"Let us take a little time to talk about it, dear; fancy yourself at school again, going to take an object lesson," she replied.
"No, thank you, no!" said Frank, cutting a caper; "I would rather think myself at home instead."
"Well, then, at home, but tell me the properties of Crystal."
Frank seated himself beside her on the sofa, looked up wisely into the corner of the ceiling, and said, after a pause, "Is crystal glass, Grandma?"
"Why, not exactly, yet they have so many qualities in common, that you may almost think of them as one."
"Glass, then, is clear, transparent, bright; what else, Grandma?"
"It is pellucid, that is, not opaque, or dark—it gives admission to the light, and reflects it back again in all its beauty, brilliancy, and purity. I do not wish to see my little boy a green-house, or a glass-house merely, for then he would be brittle, and not strong—easily damaged, if not broken up. But crystals are hard bodies; they resist all injuries, they can bear a beating without breaking; for they are regularly formed, and complete in all their parts. And crystal glass is the firmest and the best, has fewest flaws and imperfections, and can best sustain a storm."
"And so, for all these reasons, they call the great building we are soon to see, a Crystal Palace, I suppose?"
"Exactly so. What more have you to add, my Frank?"
"Why, that for the same reason you wish to see me like it, I suppose, that I may be transparent, pure, and strong, and have the light of Goodness shining through me."