The Child of the Dawn

p on a bright spring morning and seeing the sunlight p

mber, I

where I

window wh

ping in

er your good night's sleep and you are eager t

ow? And he makes the apples redden, too, and the wheat-ears fill out, and the potatoes grow under the ground, and the peas and beans and melons and strawberries and rasp

h, you can see the air shimmering and rising from an open field on a broiling summer day, or wavering and rushing upward from a hot stove or an open register in winter. Hold a little feather fluff or blow a puff of

ean. If it were not for this, the air would become foul and damp and stagnant, like the water in a ditch or marshy pool. So the Sun God, as ou

or germs. You know how a pair of boots put away in a dark, damp closet, or left down in the cellar, will become covered all over with a coating of gray mold. Mold grows rapidly in the dark. Just so, these other Colorless Plants, which include most of our disease germs, grow and flourish in the dark, and are killed by sunlight. That is why no house, or room, is fit to live i

u love and delight in the bright, warm, golden sunlight; for it is one of the

r muscles and nerves that makes you able to jump and dance and sing and laugh and breathe is the sunlight which you have eaten in

ay hurt your eyes-and for six or seven of the hottest hours of the day in summer time. Perhaps your mothers will object that the sunlight will fade the carpets, or spoil the furniture; but it will