t.

One display that I witnessed I shall attempt to describe. The arc of
delicate green appeared first, and shot upward diverging rays of all the
warm, rich hues of red. They formed a vast crown, outlined with a
delicate halo of fire. A veil of misty green fluttered down from its
base, and, instantly, tiny crowns, composed of every brilliant color,
with a tracery of fire defining every separate one, began to chase one
another back and forth with bewildering rapidity. As the veil swayed to
and fro, it seemed to shake the crowns into skeins of fire, each thread
strung with countless minute globes of every conceivable color and hue.
Those fiery threads, aerial as thistle down, wove themselves in and out
in a tangled mass of gorgeous beauty. Suddenly the beads of color fell
in a shower of gems, topaz and emerald, ruby and sapphire, amethyst and
pearly crystals of dew. I looked upward, where the rays of variegated
colors were sweeping the zenith, and high above the first crown was a
second more vivid still. Myriads of rainbows, the colors broad and
intense, fluttered from its base, the whole outlined by a halo of fire.
It rolled together in a huge scroll, and, in an instant, fell apart a
shower of flakes, minute as snow, but of all the gorgeous, dazzling hues
of earth and sky combined. They disappeared in the mystery of space to
instantly form into a fluttering, waving banner of delicate green mist
and--vanish; only to repeat itself.

The display of the Aurora Borealis was always an exhibition of
astonishing rapidity of motion of intense colors. The most glorious
sunset--where the vapory billows of the sky have caught the bloom of the
dying Autumn--cannot rival it. All the precious gems of earth appear to
have dissolved into mist, to join in a wild and aerial dance. The people
of Mizora attributed it entirely to electricity.

Although the sun never rose or set in Mizora, yet for six months in a
year, that country had the heart of a voluptuous summer. It beat with a
strong, warm pulse of life through all nature. The orchards budded and
bloomed, and mellowed into perfect fruition their luscious globes. The
fields laughed in the warm, rich light, and smiled on the harvest. I
could feel my own blood bound as with a new lease of life at the first
breath of spring.

The winters of Mizora had clouds and rain and sleet and snow, and
sometimes, especially near the circular sea, the fury of an Arctic snow
storm; but so well prepar