each supposed to be a distinct and effective eye.' This particular is strikingly suggestive of the wonderful increase of perceptive power in the regenerate as compared with the merely natural mind; and which, though very imperfectly developed in the present life, will be fully realised when the material envelope is laid aside. With powers whose extent and perfection can now be only faintly conjectured, the risen spirit looks above, around, and beneath himself, with some discernment of the boundless wealth of particulars which each glance includes. He looks reverently upward through a long perspective of superior excellence, unattained or unattainable, to Him from whom it all descends; around him on others like himself, similar in degree and general experience; on them, and on scenes representative of their common affections and intelligence; below him, on those differently and less nobly organised and endowed, whose colder affections may be kindled by his more perfect love, whose feebler intelligence may be aided by his superior wisdom, and whom he may lead forward in the ever-opening upward path to unapproachable perfection. And the strength and clearness of spiritual vision to which all this lies open are symbolised by the butterfly's twenty thousand effective eyes.
Following the insect in its flight, we perceive that the change in its mode of existence has produced a similar alteration in the nature of its food. The coarser aliment—derived from the green and leafy parts of plants—that nourished its initiatory life is superseded by more delicate nutriment: it feeds on the nectar of flowers, on the juices that nourish the future fruit. In like manner, the state that precedes regeneration, when the outer life is being
