terfly. But it must be remembered that the larva state precedes; for, were there no caterpillars, there could be no butterflies.
But what, in its essence, is this soul of outward knowledge? What are the mental rainbow-tinted butterflies? And, further, is it practicable to obtain any insight into the manner in which they are vivified within us? Only slight hints and faint glimpses of these interior operations are afforded; still, something may be gleaned respecting them.
The various intellectual operations that are usually comprehended in the term thought are not self-originated, but are produced by the agency of attendant spirits and angels. Light from the spiritual world—thought from its inhabitants—is continually flowing forth into the understandings of men; but, to be conscious of the presence of light, there must be objects to reflect it; in order to think, there must be the materials of thought,—that mental furniture we call knowledge. And the more extensive and the fuller is this plane of external knowledge, the broader, the deeper is the basis for spiritual influx. All that is effected by mental application, and effort to work out conclusions or arrive at principles, is only to dispose the mind for its reception;—for the reception, that is, of spiritual light. This light is, indeed, modified indefinitely,—coloured, reflected, refracted, variegated, and in part absorbed,—by the different media through which it is conveyed; but it is still light; in its origin light from heaven, and from the sun of heaven itself. Other alterations, too, does it sustain from the ends and aims from which it is sought, and to which it is directed; and could it, like natural
