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THE UNIVERSAL ORDER 
 
'" What canst thou fear 
 
 if the Universal Order be 
 
 thy friend. 
 
The UNIVERSAL 
 ORDER ^^g^ 
 
 FriederikaQuitmanOgden 
 Published by Paul Elder ^ 
 Company o/San Francisco 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1915 
 
 PAUL ELDER & COMPANY 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 
"We Count It 
 Death to Falter, Not 
 To Die'' 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 MRS. FRIEDERIKA QUITMAN OGDEN, YOUNG- 
 EST DAUGHTER OF GENERAL JOHN ANTHONY 
 QUITMAN AND ELIZA TURNER, WAS RORN AT 
 MONMOUTH, MISSISSIPPI, IN 1844 AND LIVED 
 THERE UNTIL HER MARRIAGE AT EIGHTEEN 
 TO MR. FRANCIS EUGENE OGDEN. 
 IT WAS THE PERIOD OF THE CIVIL WAR AND, 
 AS IN THE CASE OF MANY A YOUNG COUPLE 
 AT THAT TIME, THE BRIDE AND GROOM WERE 
 SOON PARTED NOT TO BE TOGETHER AGAIN 
 UNTIL THE TERRIBLE STRUGGLE BETWEEN 
 NORTH AND SOUTH ENDED. 
 
 NOT LONG AFTER THE CLOSE OF THE WAR 
 MR. OGDEN DIED AND MRS. OGDEN RETURNED 
 TO HER OLD HOME AT MONMOUTH. EVER 
 SINCE HER husband's DEATH SHE HAD 
 BEEN SOMEWHAT OF AN INVALID. SHE SUF- 
 FERED MORE AS TIME WENT ON, UNTIL 
 WHEN A LITTLE OVER THIRTY SHE BECAME 
 A "shut in," bearing her CONDITION WITH 
 MUCH PATIENCE BECAUSE OF AN UNDAUNTED 
 FAITH IN ULTIMATE RECOVERY. 
 DURING HER YEARS OF GREATEST HELPLESS- 
 NESS SHE MADE HER HOME AT BERKELEY 
 SPRINGS, WEST VIRGINIA, AND IT WAS HERE 
 THAT SHE WROTE A JOURNAL, RECORDING IN 
 IT BRIEF SKETCHES OF OUT-DOOR NATURE, 
 HER OWN SPIRITUAL PROGRESS, MEDITA- 
 
 IX 
 
TIONS ON THE WORDS AND DEEDS OF GREAT 
 AUTHORS OR SOMETIMES OF THE VILLAGE 
 PEOPLE WHO WERE HER FRIENDS. 
 SHE WAS A WOMAN OF INTENSE LOYALTY 
 IN FRIENDSHIP. MRS. JEFFERSON DAVIS 
 
 WAS AMONG THOSE DEAR TO HER MRS. 
 
 SIDNEY LANIER. NAME AND RANK, HOW- 
 EVER, MATTERED NOT AT ALL. WHETHER 
 RICH OR POOR, HIGH OR LOW, CHILD OR 
 PHILOSOPHER, A FRIEND, TO MRS. OGDEN, 
 WAS ONE WHO IN SOME WAY SATISFIED 
 HER SOUL. 
 
 SOME EIGHT OR NINE YEARS AGO, HER 
 HEALTH REING IMPROVED, SHE WAS MAR- 
 RIED TO MR. AUSTIN W. SMITH, A FIRST 
 COUSIN OF MR. OGDEN's. ROTH MR. AND 
 MRS. SMITH DIED IN 1911, MRS. SMITH 
 SURVIVING HER HUSRAND RUT FOUR MONTHS 
 AND DYING AT "SARRAGOSSA," THEIR COUN- 
 TRY HOME NEAR NATCHEZ. SHE HAD NO 
 CHILDREN. IN HER OWN CHILDHOOD SHE 
 WAS REMARKARLY REAUTIFUL AND THE 
 LOVELINESS OF HER EARLY YEARS CONTIN- 
 UED TO DEVELOP THROUGHOUT A NOELY 
 GRACEFUL WOMANHOOD, EVEN HER POOR 
 HEALTH HAVING NO POWER TO EFFACE IT 
 ALL. WHAT HER MIND WAS, THE READER 
 MAY GATHER FROM HER THOUGHTS IN THIS 
 LITTLE VOLUME. 
 
 E. C. L. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 FROM THE BED OF AN INVALID WHAT 
 
 MIGHT HAVE BEEN, LIKE HEINE'S, A "MAT- 
 TRESS grave" THE FOLLOWING THOUGHTS 
 
 WERE JOTTED DOWN AT INTERVALS BETWEEN 
 MORE OR LESS LINGERING PERIODS OF IN- 
 TENSE SUFFERING. THEY ARE THE ME- 
 MORIAL NOT MERELY OF A BRAVE AND 
 PERSEVERING FIGHT FOR HEALTH, BUT OF 
 A SOUL WRESTLING FOR TRUTH WITH A 
 MIND UPTURNED AND DARKENED BY DOUBT 
 AND AT TIMES IN BLANK DESPAIR. IT IS 
 A STRUGGLE LIKE THAT OF JACOB WITH THE 
 ANGEL, "l WILL NOT LET THEE GO EXCEPT 
 THOU BLESS ME." 
 
 THROUGH SEVEN YEARS OF STRESS THE 
 RECORD GOES, THE PHYSICAL POWERS AFTER 
 MANY DISAPPOINTMENTS MAKING HEADWAY 
 AND THE SOUL-LIFE OUTRUNNING THEM IN 
 EVER WIDENING AND DEEPENING SPIRITUAL 
 EXPERIENCE, THE HEART OF THE SUFFERER 
 MEANTIME OPEN TO THE BEAUTIFUL IN 
 NATURE, AND HER MIND, BY THE POWER 
 OF A DEVOTED AND UNCONQUERABLE WILL, 
 OCCUPIED WITH THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 THAT THE STRUGGLE AVAILED IN ITS RE- 
 SULTS FOR OTHERS, WE WHO KNEW HER 
 CAN TESTIFY. WE KNOW ALSO THAT THIS 
 EPOCH WAS IN HER OWN CAREER AN UN- 
 
 XI 
 
CONSCIOUS PREPARATION FOR A BEAUTIFUL 
 AND TENDER PERIOD OF FULLER LIFE DUR- 
 ING THE YEARS OF GRADUALLY RETURNING 
 HEALTH WHICH FOLLOWED. 
 HER JOURNAL, RECORDING, AS IT DOES, A 
 "lonely HUMAN SOUL's'* INDIVIDUAL WAY 
 OF SEEKING OUT AND FINDING GOD AS THE 
 IDEAL TRUTH AND LOVE AND BEAUTY, IS 
 A SOURCE OF INSPIRATION TO US TODAY, 
 WHILE, FOR THE MEMORY OF HER DEEP 
 HEART AND UNFALTERING SPIRIT, WE 
 "thank GOD AND TAKE COURAGE." 
 
 H. L. J. 
 
 XII 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH ix 
 
 INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 WITH NATURE 
 
 On the Seashore 3 
 
 A Peaceful Scene 4 
 
 Solitude with Nature 4 
 
 The Living Whole 5 
 
 Morning Under the Trees 6 
 
 True Worship 6 
 
 Reason 7 
 
 The Uniting Principle of Love ... 7 
 
 Autumn's Melancholy Music .... 8 
 
 The Beauty of the Morning .... 8 
 
 Genius 9 
 
 Poetry 9 
 
 Joan of Arc 11 
 
 The "Odor of Sanctity" 12 
 
 Rain 12 
 
 Preconscious Nature 13 
 
 Nature at Pause 14 
 
 Morning 14 
 
 A Dreamer 15 
 
 Autumn Sky 15 
 
 The Poet Is Protean 15 
 
 The Return of the Birds 16 
 
 October 16 
 
 No Drones 16 
 
 The Peace of the Sky 17 
 
 Visitors 17 
 
 Sleep and Re-awakening to Pain ... 18 
 
 TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 The Dawn of Faith 21 
 
 Snow 22 
 
 Joy a State of Sanity 22 
 
 Transplanting 23 
 
 Innocent Joy 23 
 
 A Day Like Distant Music 25 
 
 "Do Justly and Love Mercy" .... 25 
 
 XIII 
 
There Is a Light of Lights .... 25 
 
 The Bitter 26 
 
 Spring, and Signs of Physical Progress . 26 
 
 The Soul Obedient to Nature .... 27 
 
 The Universe Is Good 27 
 
 Moving with Night and Morning ... 28 
 
 Life Is Good 28 
 
 The Soul's New World 29 
 
 Trees 29 
 
 The Wren 32 
 
 Joy in All Guises 32 
 
 August 33 
 
 Joy, Not Hell 34 
 
 Rousseau 35 
 
 Under the Trees 36 
 
 The Happiness of a Double Existence . 37 
 
 The Tragedy of Life 38 
 
 Innocent Joy a Phoenix 38 
 
 Hope and Faith 38 
 
 Beethoven's Eighth Symphony ... 39 
 
 The Holy Stars 40 
 
 To Rest 40 
 
 A Methodical Life 40 
 
 To the Condemned 42 
 
 The Day of Peace at Hand .... 42 
 
 Beauty 43 
 
 Branches and Stars 43 
 
 Walt Whitman's Death 44 
 
 Goethe 44 
 
 The Body 45 
 
 Great Truths 45 
 
 The Ocean 4'5 
 
 The Storm Is Raging 46 
 
 Butterflies 46 
 
 The Morning's Baptism of Light and Life 46 
 
 Divinity in Monotony 47 
 
 My Miracles 47 
 
 The Little Hen 48 
 
 The Winter of the Heart 48 
 
 As One of the Stars of Heaven ... 48 
 
 The Pride and Self-Poise of Genius . . 49 
 
 A Mind Omnivorous 49 
 
 Poetry Versus Science 49 
 
 Sudden Events 50 
 
 XIV 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 The Soul Awaking 53 
 
 Soul Travail 54 
 
 The Ideal Vision of the Universe ... 56 
 
 Drifting 57 
 
 The Bleeding Heart 58 
 
 An Inrush of Power 58 
 
 The Soul's Contentment . . . . . 58 
 
 The Blooming of the Grape .... 5!) 
 
 Clouds 59 
 
 Doves' Voices 60 
 
 Why the World Is So Beautiful ... 60 
 
 Robins 60 
 
 Is the Bitter Sweet To-day? .... 61 
 
 A Little Moment of Divine Life ... 61 
 
 The Pine Tree 61 
 
 The Life of the Mind 62 
 
 Brain and Spirit 62 
 
 The Commonplace 62 
 
 Summer 63 
 
 A Divine Music 64 
 
 An Exquisite Pain of Soul 64 
 
 Transmutation 64 
 
 The Soul in Transition 64 
 
 "Gods, Though in the Germ" .... 65 
 
 The Poetic Perspective 66 
 
 Resignation 66 
 
 A Jar of Grasses 66 
 
 Stages of the Soul's Unfolding ... 67 
 
 The Poet 68 
 
 Poetry Involves Abstract Ideas . . . 69 
 
 Swinburne 69 
 
 The Joy of Trust 72 
 
 "O Peter, Go Ring Dem Bells" .... 72 
 
 The Diver of the Soul 72 
 
 Clouds and Moods 73 
 
 Eternal Thought 73 
 
 The Sciences the Slaves of Thought . . 74 
 
 Tennyson's Death 74 
 
 Indian Summer 75 
 
 The Lone Farm House 75 
 
 The Why 76 
 
 Modern Progress and Sentiment ... 77 
 
 Sunrise 79 
 
 XV 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 The World of the Still Things ... 83 
 
 The Common Nature 84 
 
 The Pity of It 84 
 
 Acquired Youthfulness .85 
 
 The Day of Knowledge 86 
 
 The Red-Bird's Song 88 
 
 A Vision of the Sun 88 
 
 My Method of Study 88 
 
 To the Plum Tree 90 
 
 Sounds to the Poet 91 
 
 The Solemn Procession of the Clouds . 91 
 
 One Happy Moment 91 
 
 As the Thread Through a String of Pearls 92 
 
 The Mystic Power of Spring .... 92 
 
 Only One of the Gleaners 92 
 
 Imprisonment 93 
 
 Philosophy 93 
 
 The Cry of Dives 94 
 
 Philosophy Is Homesickness .... 94 
 
 In a Thunderstorm 94 
 
 The Divine Doors 95 
 
 Under the Sky 96 
 
 Entering Upon the Mastery of Life . . 97 
 
 Co-operation 98 
 
 Heaven Here and Now 99 
 
 Despair the Tempter in the Desert . . 100 
 
 Ladye Spiritual 100 
 
 A Moment in the Eternal Now . . . 101 
 
 Truth Is Not Cheap 101 
 
 Metaphysic 102 
 
 Woman Suffrage 102 
 
 The Brute Law Versus the Higher Law . 103 
 
 Creative Love Versus War and Plunder . 104 
 The Life of the Soul Like the Globe in 
 
 Variety 106 
 
 The Crushed Herb's Fragrance . . . 106 
 The Bird with a Poet's Heart . . . .107 
 
 The Flowers' Death-Song 108 
 
 The Inner Voice 108 
 
 The Empyrean of Ideas 108 
 
 When Life Appears Unreal .... 109 
 
 Madame de Stael 109 
 
 The Poetry of Life 109 
 
 XVI 
 
Poetry Makes Rich 110 
 
 The Cost of the Right Road . . . .110 
 
 The Beautiful Tree of Poetry .... Ill 
 
 Music 113 
 
 I Know Only My Ignorance .... 113 
 
 Inspiration and Purposive Action . . . 114 
 
 Mediocrity and Genius 114 
 
 Sons of God 114 
 
 The Poem of My Own Life . . . .116 
 
 Genius Makes a New Era 116 
 
 Memories 116 
 
 The Cheering Principles of Philosophy . 117 
 
 Philosophy Versus Agnosticism . . . 117 
 
 A Person of Genius 117 
 
 Four Moments of Life 118 
 
 A Drive in the Mountains 118 
 
 As the Shekinah to Israel 119 
 
 Little Efforts 119 
 
 Good Only Is Real . 120 
 
 XVII 
 
With Nature 
 
 I knew myself 
 
 a conscious part of a Living Whole; 
 
 conscious of the sense of touch 
 
 with the Living Whole. 
 
WITH NATURE 
 
 June 4, 1887. The sound of the ocean is 
 in my ears. I see the long, blue line of its 
 magnificent waters from my window. I 
 hear the songs of the birds, the chirp of 
 the cricket, and look out upon spreading 
 fields of buttercups and other wild 
 flowers. Above, the heavens are seen 
 without let or hindrance. One can be 
 very near to Nature here. 
 
 September 5. Spent the afternoon on 
 the inland dune, reading Emerson's 
 "Plato." 
 
 September 9. In these days Nature is 
 seen in her most beautiful aspects. The 
 skies are wonderfully deep and blue, the 
 air is a very wine of life, the dear woods 
 are full of the voices of the winds, of 
 birds, of insects. The trees and flowering 
 plants and all the little weeds have borne 
 their fruits. Mind and heart are arriv- 
 ing at fuller development; the spirit, too, 
 is bearing fruit — a spiritual harvest time 
 
 3 
 
 On the 
 
 Seashore 
 
WITH NATURE 
 
 to match the harvest of Nature. I am 
 growing into an ever-deepening sense of 
 the One-ness, the Gommon-ness of all 
 things. Henceforth I shall rejoice more 
 than weep. I stand upon the threshold 
 of a new life. 
 
 A Peaceful September 27. Spent almost the whole 
 Scene day, yesterday, in the field and on the 
 inland dune, reading "The Invisible 
 Lodge" and Comte's Philosophy by John 
 Stuart Mill. The air was soft and balmy. 
 The sun shone out fitfully from behind 
 many shifting clouds. The landscape of- 
 fered a peaceful scene and in the distance 
 was the ocean with its ships. 
 
 November 2. I had a good view of the 
 Statue of Liberty — the gift to America 
 from the French Republic. The majestic 
 figure fills the heart with renewed love 
 of freedom. 
 
 Solitude May 15, 1888. For months I have battled 
 with Nature ^lone with the Powers of Darkness. All 
 my eff'orts toward recovery have proved 
 worse than failures. Marred, bruised, 
 crippled, almost dead from mortal com- 
 bat with the deadly powers of human 
 ignorance, I was brought out into the 
 wholesome, saving influences of the coun- 
 try. Here I began a life outdoors, taking 
 rugs and lying on the grass all day. I 
 got well sun-burned. As I journeyed out, 
 4 
 
WITH NATURE 
 
 Spring was visible in tender buds on 
 bough and twig. Even the dirt roads, 
 the naked branching trees and the in- 
 creasing solitudes, poured balm into my 
 wounds. Nature, my nourishing Mother, 
 has nursed her sick child upon her 
 bosom and I am better. The work of 
 restoration will be slow. 
 
 October 14. Returning health flows 
 through my life channels. Surely this 
 summer's solitude with Nature, where I 
 drank direct from her eternal fountains, 
 and the wise books I had for compan- 
 ions, went far toward bringing all my 
 past life of thought and feeling under the 
 focussing light of a newer and larger 
 conception, which in due season will 
 bring forth fruits for a higher and nobler 
 life — simpler and humbler. 
 
 November 12. I am reading the noble The Living 
 philosophy of Epictetus. There is a grow- Whole 
 ing, an ever-deepening intimacy between 
 the Soul and the Universe. Last night as 
 I looked out my window into the sky and 
 saw the stars, a vital and living sense of 
 nearness came into my soul. I knew my- 
 self a conscious part of a Living Whole; 
 conscious of the sense of touch with the 
 Living Whole. The Soul was awed and 
 cried aloud. O for an ever-increasing 
 realization of the Eternal Presence! 
 
WITH NATURE 
 
 Morning July 30, 1889. I see Miss Mollie's corn 
 Under patch. It is bearing grain. I see the tall 
 
 the Trees stalks, each one erect and rejoicing in its 
 life, the leaves glistening in the sun. I 
 saw it planted in the spring. 
 The trees stand erect, near-by, uncom- 
 plaining. Overhead the sun "rejoices as 
 a giant to run his course" in the calm 
 and eternal heaven, that ethereal ocean 
 upon whose bosom all life is reposing — 
 planets, suns, systems. Shall the Soul 
 alone grovel in the dust of discontent, in 
 the midst of this cheerful company? 
 What canst thou fear if the Universal 
 Order be thy friend? 
 
 True July 31. What is true worship? Is it 
 Worship not having a mind reverent to law, that 
 law we call divine because it is uni- 
 versal? 
 
 Worship does not consist in thought 
 only, but also in act — thought made 
 moral by action. 
 
 True worship is guided by reason and 
 set on fire by feeling. Right feeling is 
 the flower of reason. Reason is the 
 power by which we judge, by which we 
 know. Reason is the direct door to un- 
 derstanding. Jesus has said that you 
 must enter the Kingdom of God by the 
 door. He spoke of himself as the door, 
 because he lived and taught by reason, 
 
 6 
 
WITH NATURE 
 
 not by instinct and passion as do most 
 men. Matthew Arnold speaks of the 
 "Sweet reasonableness" of Jesus. The 
 true worshiper can enter the temple of 
 the Divine only by the door of sweet 
 reasonableness. 
 
 August 3. The Soul grows strong to Reason 
 stand alone. A clear, beautiful vision on 
 the Mount today! Reason was seen to 
 be a veritable part of divine Reason. All 
 the good that comes into life, as well as 
 the good that comes out of seeming mis- 
 fortune, comes through reason's right 
 activity, when her dictates are listened 
 to and passion permits her free activity. 
 My soul was filled with truth. She com- 
 muned with divine Reason. 
 Love is the flowering of reason. 
 
 August 4. I see the universe moving on- xhe Uniting 
 ward in stars, systems, galaxies, by the principle 
 same law of love — attraction that thrills of Love 
 and controls the life of the Soul; the 
 same law of love that brings together 
 friends, lovers, comrades, uniting the 
 Lonely Human Soul into one life with 
 her comrade-Soul — lonely no more for 
 she enters into the universe of Truth, and 
 love elevates and exalts the Soul. She 
 becomes united by the law of love with 
 friends, lovers and comrades in the 
 league of the Universal. 
 
WITH NATURE 
 
 Autumn^s August 6. I hear the death songs of the 
 Melancholy little crickets in the seeded grass. The 
 Music songs of the birds are hushed. Already 
 some leaves are turning and dropping. 
 There is a note of autumn in the sound 
 of the rain's constant drip, drip. The 
 winds begin to roam with that wild free- 
 dom and melancholy music peculiar to 
 this season. The wild flowers, wiiich 
 little C — 1 brings to me, are tinted with 
 the rich autumn colors. Sadness steals 
 down from the skies and pervades the 
 air. The Lonely Human Soul is for- 
 saken. All things speak of the coming 
 of winter, of solitude, of death. Phil- 
 osophy, faith, alone keep the Soul from 
 sinking into despair. The Spirit falls but 
 arises once more, standing erect with 
 head upward toward the skies! "We 
 count it death to falter, not to die." 
 
 The Beauty August 12. My soul is intoxicated with 
 of the the beauty of this morning, as one drunk 
 Morning with a fine wine. There is not a cloud 
 in the depths above. The sunshine falls 
 over all, like a plenary indulgence. The 
 air is cool. The winds are roaming 
 abroad, fluttering branches and leaves, 
 making exquisite little pictures in light 
 and shade. All Nature is glistening, mov- 
 ing, radiant. O to wander forth, far 
 away into the mountains! 
 
 8 
 
WITH NATURE 
 
 August 13. Genius is the culmination, in Genius 
 one individual, of the general progress of 
 many preceding generations; but genius 
 has its limitations. Its power to promul- 
 gate truth cannot exceed the power of 
 the constituents which go to make up the 
 tendency of the thought of the age to 
 which the genius may belong. 
 
 August 15. Poetry awakens the mind Poetry 
 from the slumber of the utilitarian and 
 the commonplace. It awakens universal 
 sympathy with all creatures and all 
 things. Poetry broadens the spiritual 
 horizon and gives perspective to life. 
 With the poetic imagination, I see 
 this little earth-ship sailing rhythmically 
 through the blue ether, as she follows the 
 sun in his vaster sweep through the 
 starry spaces. I — who constitute but one 
 atom of life in my one swift, ebbing 
 moment of time — I transcend myself 
 and gaze upon this picture of duration. 
 It becomes as present a reality for me as 
 though I endured with Time and Space, 
 with worlds and systems. So does the 
 poetic imagination lift up the mind into 
 the realm of the god-like. 
 Poetry sees persons and things as 
 types, as classes, each one forming, as it 
 were, lights and shadows, in the great 
 Picture of Life in which are infinite 
 
 9 
 
WITH NATURE 
 
 Poetry gradations of color and form, not the 
 least of which is without its due sig- 
 nificance. 
 
 Poetry strikes back into the first 
 springs of existence, into the original 
 purpose of Nature, by showing the com- 
 mon-ness, the kinship of all. Poetry re- 
 lates all things. She may be likened to 
 the great, sympathetic, nervous system in 
 the human body, whose function is to 
 unite all the other systems together. 
 Poetry is the voice of God singing the 
 song of the evening star in the Soul. 
 The farther the exact sciences pro- 
 gress the more proofs do they give that 
 the universe is a related whole. These 
 truths were long antedated in the dreams 
 and rhapsodies of the poets. Hence are 
 poets called seers. They have the vision 
 of the deepest realities — the spiritual 
 significance of things, the deep things of 
 Nature in their primeval simplicity. 
 Hence true poetry is simple, strong. The 
 artificial, the conventional, the frivolous 
 have no part in her. Real poetry en- 
 dures. 
 
 Poetry sets the mind at equipoise. The 
 poetic Soul is at peace with Nature. The 
 old Hermits were poets at heart, else they 
 could not have lived in those sublime 
 solitudes of desert and mountain. 
 The poetic mind knows the right pro- 
 
 10 
 
WITH NATURE 
 
 portions of things and disdains worldly 
 ambition, finding joy in simplicity. The 
 poet is independent of circumstance and 
 convention, resting joyfully upon Nature, 
 feeling her universal relations. 
 Poetry meets Philosophy on the Heights; 
 one flies thither on wings, the other 
 toils up the crags, step by step, staff 
 in hand — a pilgrim to the Shrine of 
 Truth. Wordsworth sings of "Joy in 
 widest commonalty spread," and Con- 
 fucius declares, "With a few grains of 
 rice, a cup of cold water, and my bended 
 arm for a pillow, I still know joy." 
 Poetry is not concerned with clothing 
 and feeding mankind. She clothes and 
 feeds the Soul with grace and beauty — 
 in so far as the Soul can perceive and 
 receive her truth into its own. Those 
 who do not possess the poetic perception 
 lose one of the highest and most exalting 
 enjoyments of life. 
 
 August 28. I have just finished reading Joan of Arc 
 Michelet's "Joan of Arc." It is written 
 simply and with poetic sensibility. Strip 
 the story as one may of legend and mir- 
 acle, there is left the fact that a young 
 girl, in the ignorance of peasant life, 
 was moved by inner power to lead the 
 armies of her people, to effect the cor- 
 onation of her king, to die heroically, un- 
 
 11 
 
WITH NATURE 
 
 dismayed by persecution and desertion. 
 
 August 29. The life story of that pure, 
 heroic soul, la Pucelle, lingers with me, 
 profiting my soul. It is a living poem of 
 unselfishness, heroic endurance and fidel- 
 ity. Shall I not strive to be as she was, 
 in that last moment when she forgot her 
 own cruel fate; forgot the flames which 
 were waiting for her? Her soul was 
 filled only with a sublime consideration 
 for the Dominican priest who attended 
 her on the scaff'old, imploring him to save 
 himself, when she saw the executioner 
 put the torch to the pile! 
 The "Odor September 4. O the peace, the light, 
 of Sanctity'' the piety, of this morning! All so still, 
 so perfect, as though the earth were 
 adoring the heavens. The "odor of 
 sancity" over all — a spiritual essence 
 from out the infinite Spirit of the uni- 
 verse. The fragrance from my ripened 
 grapes is the physical correspondence of 
 this heavenly essence, which penetrates 
 the hidden recesses of my soul, awak- 
 ening the spirit to "make melody before 
 the Lord." 
 
 Bain September 10. I listened this morning to 
 the music of the raindrops — the regular 
 tramp, tramp of the footsteps of the rain, 
 as it were an army of tiny beings on the 
 roof and on the ground. I hear the liquid 
 
 12 
 
WITH NATURE 
 
 splashing into puddles beneath the cot- 
 tage eaves. It is the dripping from the 
 grapevines. The birds have gone some- 
 where for shelter, I know not where. 
 Seldom do I hear a single chirp. All 
 other sounds are lost in the music of the 
 rain. 
 
 I wish to get as nearly outdoors as pos- 
 sible. I sit on the porch beneath an 
 umbrella, for the roof leaks. I wish to 
 get as near to the rain as possible without 
 being soaked. I watch the soft, steel-blue 
 tints, begot of rain and mist, that have 
 come over the landscape. In what tender 
 colors do they paint all Nature! A lovely 
 picture, full of peace and trembling with 
 life. 
 
 September 11. Is unconscious Nature, in Preconscious 
 
 tree and stock and stone, nearer to "Pre- Nature 
 
 conscious" Nature which lies back of this 
 
 shifting "Maia," than is conscious man 
 
 who, though higher in the scale of life, 
 
 yet by virtue of his very consciousness 
 
 and power of choice, is farther removed 
 
 from the immediate workings of the Pre- 
 
 conscious? For man's activities are 
 
 mediate through his perceptions and 
 
 will. 
 
 Will man ever progress so far as to 
 
 meet the other end of the great circle of 
 
 Life and, by means of his perfected per- 
 
 13 
 
WITH NATURE 
 
 ceptions and will, come into perfect 
 union with — intelligent realization of — | 
 the Pre-conscious? 
 
 Nature September 13. Nature seems to pause, as 
 at Pause though swooning from the excess of 
 "mellow fruitfulness" with which she has 
 crowned orchard, garden, field and for- 
 est. A breathless stillness is over all as 
 though some cherished purpose were 
 now fulfilled and earth rested in quiet 
 joy after the days of showers, mists and 
 damp. This peace, this quiet joy, sink 
 deep into my soul, calming and purify- 
 ing. O to be as Nature is, bountiful, 
 modest, loving, patient, never-failing. 
 
 Morning September 18. The sun is silently mount- 
 ing up the eastern sky. Millions of dew- 
 drops glisten on the grass, as though 
 some munificent squanderer had thrown 
 diamonds, sapphires and rubies there. I 
 hear the music of the cowbells from dis- 
 tant roads and fields where kine are 
 grazing. The air, pure and stimulating 
 as nectar for soul and body, gently flut- 
 ters the little leaves. The death-songs of 
 the autumn crickets and other insects 
 keep up a melancholy monotony, a sort 
 of fugue in the music of Nature. The 
 birds are silent save that at rare inter- 
 vals I hear the jocund whistle of the red- 
 bird, or the cheerful voice of some other 
 
 14 
 
WITH NATURE 
 
 "Little Brother." I hear the dreamy hum- 
 ming of the bees, sipping my ripened 
 grapes. The sound affects my imagina- 
 tion similarly to the sound of the human 
 hive, heard at a distance, to give the 
 poetic perspective. 
 
 September 29. What capacity have I for a Dreamer 
 accomplishing any work in life? What 
 is Nature's purpose in regard to me? 
 What was I made to do, to achieve? 
 There is no lack of aspiration — the 
 writer, the artist, the musician — can I 
 be any one of these? With chagrin I own 
 my incapacity. I have no powers of 
 composition, of construction. I am not 
 original, creative, giving form to ideas; 
 only a dreamer; yet daring, courageous, 
 profound, vague, illimitable, poetic. 
 
 September 30. A blue dome above me. Autumn Sky 
 as I sit outdoors, flecked over by little, 
 white, woolly clouds in flocks, like sheep 
 grazing in heavenly pastures. The air is 
 cool, still, full of sunshine that says, "It 
 is autumn." 
 
 October 8. I find that each person of The Poet 
 talent has only his own limited powers ^* Protean 
 of perception and little stock of truths, 
 on hearing which, all is said. It is not so 
 with the poet. He is ever new and re- 
 freshing, because creative; he is protean, 
 like Nature herself. The poet is her 
 
 15 
 
WITH NATURE 
 favorite child; to whom she has given 
 perpetual youth — the power of being ever 
 born again. 
 
 TheJReturn October 9. The birds have returned of 
 of ih€ Birds late. During the latter part of the sum- 
 mer their songs were hushed. I hear, 
 first one, then another little friend of last 
 spring. How glad I am to welcome them 
 back! How much consolation they bring 
 me! Their sweet notes stimulate the 
 poetic imagination to its happiest mood, 
 whereby the heart is refreshed and glad- 
 dened by visions of beauty and peace. 
 
 Octoler October 10. It is warmer today. I sit 
 out of doors. The sky has a paler blue 
 with here and there thin, feathery cloud- 
 lets, one shaped like a long, slender 
 plume. The winds are stirring, rustling 
 the dead leaves about me, like memories 
 of lost hopes. The redbird sings in a 
 near tree. Earlier, a flock of partridges, 
 with a great, rushing, whirring sound, 
 flew into the osage orange hedge, near 
 my cottage, to remain but a few moments, 
 when, with much whistling to each other 
 and great excitement and fluttering of 
 wings, off" they flew to the mountain. 
 
 No Drones October 14. Everyone ought to wish to 
 add something to the world's store of 
 wealth. Those who have their living 
 without working ought to satisfy the 
 
 16 
 
WITH NATURE 
 
 claims of justice by doing a certain 
 amount of free work for the world. 
 No one should be a drone, an idler, a 
 mere consumer. Everyone ought to do 
 his share of production for the privilege 
 of living and enjoying life in this palace 
 of the sky. 
 
 October 15. An ideal October day! The The Peace 
 sky is poetical — giving expression to of the STcy 
 spiritual realities in the forms of beauty. 
 It is a tender blue, mild, temperate, pas- 
 sionless; looking down upon a distracted 
 world like a great, calm face, quieting the 
 hot, restless soul of man gone mad with 
 strife and passion. O beautiful Face! 
 look down into this heart and in thy 
 smile send quietness, peace, joy. 
 
 October 16. The sky is one solid, light- Visitors 
 grey color. No sunshine. The birds are 
 singing as though it were spring. The air 
 is still. One tiny Little Brother tripped 
 into my cottage this morning where 
 I was alone, lying on the couch. He 
 hopped from chair to chair, with ex- 
 quisite grace and airy motion. I felt 
 glad of his gentle, silent presence. I 
 wished he might approach close to me, 
 but I did not know in what manner to 
 act so as not to frighten him. Soon, 
 however, some noise outside frightened 
 him and away he flew. 
 
 17 
 
WITH NATURE 
 
 Little C — 1 came to my cottage yester- 
 day and sang for me: — 
 
 "The hills, 
 
 The beautiful hills 
 
 The — - hills"— etc. 
 
 The child voice, the slim little figure, 
 the look of innocence on his face, his 
 rustic simplicity, made a picture not to 
 be forgotten. 
 
 Chrysanthemums and nasturtiums are 
 blooming. Little C — 1 keeps me supplied 
 with them. 
 
 Sleep atid November 19. What does the condemned 
 Be-awakening man dream of? Is sleep to him a bit of 
 to Pain oblivion? When he awakens, is it diffi- 
 cult for him to realize again his terrible 
 doom? Is it torture, this often repeated 
 experience of oblivion and re-awakening 
 to the consciousness of a cruel fate? 
 The Soul's experience is similar to 
 this. She falls asleep. She forgets in 
 dreams. She is once more free and 
 happy. She awakens. She arises. The 
 old Pain says: "Good morning," takes 
 her by the hand, remains close with her 
 all day. Oh, when will the hour arrive 
 for the Soul to stand erect, once more 
 free? 
 
 18 
 
Transplantation 
 
 The Soul is 
 
 uprooted from the place of care and 
 
 grief and planted again in the 
 
 new soil of increasing 
 
 health, hope, joy , 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 January 4, 1890. The hour of dawn of TheBawn 
 the Day of Health approaches. The long, of Faith 
 black, painful Night is passed. A great 
 faith, a great trust in the power of uni- 
 versal Good-will, the Cosmic Power, God's 
 life — call it what you will — fills the 
 Lonely Human Soul as water fills a well. 
 This universal Good-will, by means of 
 faith built on reason, will "Renew my 
 youth like the Eagle," will "Heal all my 
 diseases," will "Restore my soul." Did 
 not Jesus say to the sick one made well: 
 "Thy faith hath made thee whole?" 
 The Lonely Human Soul stands upon 
 the threshold of a new and higher life. 
 Power flows in, intellectual, moral, phys- 
 ical. The days of apprenticeship are 
 over. The life of the master-workman 
 will commence. The horizon widens 
 in every direction. The Lonely Human 
 Soul is the child of God, consecrated to 
 
 21 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 do his will. Is this presumption, or is it 
 true humility? The latter surely, be- 
 cause the Soul acknowledges that all her 
 power is God's power in her. 
 
 Snoiv January 18. There was a snow storm 
 last night. There is a spirit of purifica- 
 tion abroad embodied in this spotless 
 snow. O to receive that imprint upon 
 the heart! 
 
 Joy a State January 31. These are days of "silent 
 of Sanity demand" and of prophecy. Quoth Saint 
 Anthony, "To be built up in virtue, one 
 must be built up in tears." That is the 
 first stage — the preparation — but to ar- 
 rive at spiritual maturity the Soul's ever- 
 lasting dome must be built up of joy. 
 To be joyful is the only sane temper in 
 which to live. It is the temper of Nature 
 and of her prophet and seer — the poet. 
 Those persons who go through life fret- 
 ful, peevish, discontented are partially 
 insane. The poet is the sanest of men. 
 Wordsworth sang of life as joy, in "Daf- 
 fodils" and "Early Spring." Emerson had 
 the sarne temperament of the poet. How 
 glad he makes you feel; how plentiful he 
 is to feed the Soul, like some old apple 
 tree that loads the ground with fruit! 
 Saint Paul tells us of joy as one of the 
 "fruits of the spirit." It is the purpose 
 of the universe that every creature be 
 
 22 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 full of innocent joy, merry, gleeful joy, 
 like that which Beethoven gives in his 
 Pastoral Symphony. 
 
 February 1. When a plant is trans- Transplanting 
 planted, it passes through a trying time. 
 It has been uprooted from its old familiar 
 spot. At first it is weakened until the 
 roots take firm hold upon the new soil 
 and it begins to draw force from the air. 
 If the climate is better adapted to the 
 nature and requirements of the plant 
 than the old one, the plant will become 
 stronger, with increased power of 
 flowering and fruition. The Soul is now 
 passing through the trying time of trans- 
 plantation. She is uprooted from the 
 place of care and grief and planted again 
 in the new soil of increasing good health, 
 hope, joy. Life will be richer and 
 happier. 
 
 February 8. Happiness as an end is in- Innocent 
 sufficient and may lead to vice; hence ^^^V 
 the utilitarian ideal is not the correct 
 one. The purely moral motive, without 
 the emotion of happiness, is incomplete 
 and unsatisfying. Though great and 
 heroic it fails to meet all the require- 
 ments of the heart and mind. A perfect 
 ideal should meet every aspiration of the 
 Soul. Such is the ideal of innocent joy. 
 The poet in his rhapsody knows innocent 
 
 23 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 Innocent joy. Robert Browning looked out on the 
 Joy world and declared: — 
 
 "I report as a man may of God's work, 
 all's love and all's law." 
 
 Again he sings: 
 
 "Life with all it yields of joy and woe, 
 
 And hope and fear, 
 
 Is just our chance o' the prize of learn- 
 ing love — 
 
 How love might be, hath been indeed, 
 
 and is — " 
 And Edwin Arlington Robinson: 
 
 "Love's complete communion is the 
 end 
 
 Of anguish to the liberated man." 
 
 Where all is love, there all is innocent. 
 The world must be infinite joy to satisfy 
 an ever increasing thirst for an ever re- 
 newed state of innocent joy — offering 
 new fields of discovery, of fresh thought 
 and feeling. 
 
 The ideal of innocent joy leads to con- 
 structive work. Its tendencies are funda- 
 mental and rejuvenating. There is no 
 medicine to be compared to the medicine 
 of joy. Grief is destructive. Innocent 
 joy can be attained only by obedience to 
 the spiritual law. The practice of virtue 
 tends to joy. 
 
 February 14. The air is soft and vibrat- 
 
 24 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 ing with birds' songs. I hear the red- A Day Like 
 bird. The sun shines gently amid light- Distant 
 moving clouds. There is a manner of ^u^^ic 
 grace, an air of tenderness about the day 
 that comes to the heart like distant 
 music. It is the season for new-born 
 love, for tender sighs, for pensive moods. 
 
 March 29. Easter. Criminals ought to ''Do Justly 
 be treated as patients in a hospital. They o^^ J^ove 
 should not be treated as moral beings re- Mercy" 
 sponsible for their acts. They are chil- 
 dren needing to be educated into moral- 
 ity, not by means of the knout, of ball 
 and chain, of solitary confinement, or of 
 any other cruel method, but by teaching 
 them truth, honesty, fidelity, justice, self- 
 control, love, forgiveness, mercy. By in- 
 justice you can not make a just man; by 
 unkindness a kind man; by hatred and 
 passion a loving man. If it w^ere so then 
 there would be no truth in the command: 
 "Do justly and love mercy." 
 
 April 1. With closed eyes I was lying on There 
 my couch. On opening my eyes the ^* « Light 
 white light from the sky flooded me with ^f ^^9^^^^ 
 brightness and purity. The following 
 thoughts rose up out of my heart: — 
 
 There is a Light of lights. 
 
 Oh, that my eyes could see! 
 Only the light of the sun 
 
 Is visible to me. 
 
 25 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 There is a Liglit of lights, 
 
 Oh, that my eyes could see! 
 It is the Light of the Soul, 
 And only the Soul can see. 
 The Bitter At night the Soul had drunk of the! 
 bitter of Verlaine's poeme: 
 
 "Les sanglots long 
 Des violons 
 De I'autumne; 
 Blessent mon coeur, 
 D' une langueur 
 Monotone. 
 "Tout suffocant 
 Et bleme, quand 
 Sonne I'heure; 
 Je me souviens 
 Des jours anciens 
 Et je pleure. 
 
 "Et je m'en vais 
 Au vent mauvais, 
 Qui m'emporte 
 De ci, de la, 
 Pareil a la 
 Feuille morte." 
 Spring and April 20. The spring is fairly with us. 
 Signs of I see the first tender, yellowish-green tint 
 Physical stealing forth on the trees in the garden. 
 rrogress jjig jjij-^g ^j.^ j^y ^^jjy companions. I 
 wonder if they know it! Their songs 
 are my music. Ah, thou dear Pine Tree! 
 26 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 I forget thee not and thy soft murmurs. 
 My old Friend, the great aspen tree, 
 budded and blossomed last spring and 
 now stands dead near my window. It 
 will give me the music of the humming 
 jbees among its blossoms not this time, 
 nor any more. I miss thy consolations, 
 dear old Tree! 
 
 Ah, the poor body! How is it with 
 thee? Ailing, ailing; better than two 
 months ago; better than one month ago, 
 yet still benumbed by disease, rendering 
 it perilous to walk out. 
 The Soul is striving to conform to the 
 laws of Nature in every habit, yielding 
 up herself, more and more, to the con- 
 trol of spiritual law. 
 
 June 1. When the Soul becomes obedi- The Soul 
 ent to Nature, she enters upon her real Obedient 
 life. When she comes into unison with to Nature 
 the Eternal through obedience to the law, 
 in which alone she shall find her freedom 
 by the emptying of self through renuncia- 
 tion to be refilled with universal life, she 
 then becomes creative, as the universe is 
 creative. "Drift, drift," says Emerson, 
 "the current knows the way." 
 
 June 26. The universe is good. When y^^ jjniverse 
 you do evil you are using some of the j^ Qood 
 force of the universe to make yourself 
 unlike the common — i. e. universal — na- 
 
 27 
 
TRANSPLANTATIOIS 
 
 ture. And there is a reacting power ii 
 the nature of things which forces evil t( 
 become finally transmuted into good, thu; 
 ever preserving the balance of the whole 
 When the mind becomes rational 
 which is its natural tendency undei 
 favoring conditions, the desire to do evi 
 is eliminated, for the rational mind pan 
 takes of the nature of the universe and is 
 in ever-growing harmony with universa 
 order. Life does not desire death, noj 
 does health desire pain, nor does th< 
 heart desire to be hated and spurned. 
 Moving with June 27. The secret of life lies ir 
 Night and humble, faithful, patient doing. Ragt 
 Mornmg ^^^ despair but destroy us, as do inn 
 patience and negligence. 
 All things must grow. Nothing may b( 
 forced to its perfect fruition. PatientI 
 unfailing duty done, is alone capable ol 
 accomplishing good results. To gain im 
 the long run, to have power, each person 
 must take his appointed place in the 
 great order, and move along with night 
 and morning, with the seasons and the 
 stars, be as they are, regular, never-fail- 
 ing. To the silent, faithful act belongs 
 victory. 
 
 Life Is Good June 28. It is a high standpoint to reach 
 when pain and sorrow are seen to be 
 good as well as pleasure and joy. It is 
 
 28 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 the uses of things which constitute their 
 worth. The noble mind will transmute 
 all things into good, seeing the uses of 
 pain and sorrow as well as of pleasure 
 and joy. The noble mind is not tainted 
 with pessimism; it sees that life is good 
 and that there is no blot to mar the 
 beauty of it. 
 
 July 3. The Soul is passing out of the The SouVs 
 old life, into the new; from out the old New World 
 material world of vanity, of desire for 
 admiration, of pride, of selfishness, of 
 luxury, of frivolity, of ignorance, of ex- 
 clusiveness, of idleness, of sensuality — 
 out, out, far, far out — into the distant 
 new world of Renunciation, of self- 
 abandonment, of common Brotherhood 
 with all; not with man only, but with 
 animals, birds, insects, fishes, stocks and 
 stones; yea, with the very elements them- 
 selves; into the new world of work, of 
 seriousness, of plain living; the new 
 world of knowledge; into the higher 
 world of intelligence; of the Spirit, the 
 tender, the true, the discriminating, per- 
 ceiving world of the Divine! 
 
 July 9. I love trees. They feed me with Trees 
 fruits. They warm me with fragrant 
 wood fires. They are my friends and the 
 friends of my race. 
 I love trees because we are the chil- 
 
 29 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 Trees dren of one common parent, because we 
 have one common nature and one com- 
 mon destiny. 
 
 I love trees because they are good; be- 
 cause they are kind, because they are 
 modest, because they have dignity of 
 character. How hospitable they are to 
 the birds and the little squirrels, giving 
 them homes! They give food without 
 money and without price. In the sum- 
 mer days how pleasant are their shadows 
 where the weary may find rest. They 
 are Quakers, for peace abideth with 
 them. They are philosophers, saints and 
 poets. 
 
 Trees are the friend of man. He could 
 not find a home upon the earth were it 
 not for trees. They could live without 
 him, but not he without them. They 
 call the gracious rains together, bringing 
 harvests to their ungrateful brother 
 whose brutal hand is too often laid upon 
 their beauty. 
 
 Can words describe the grace of their 
 myriad branches, or the tenderness of 
 those arms, garlanded and veiled with 
 leaves, outstretched with longing to em- 
 brace the sun? What shadows, what 
 colors, what motion — live paintings done 
 by the hand of Nature — where imagina- 
 tion may nestle with birds or skip from 
 branch to branch like squirrels. Happy 
 
 30 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 lovers seek those shadows for their tryst. Trees 
 When the branches are bare and strip- 
 ped, they are like the widowed heart. 
 They point upward to the sky like 
 prayers. 
 
 The violin with its human voice comes 
 out of the heart of trees. It is a revela- 
 tion of their kinship with man when 
 these, his silent brothers — silent now no 
 longer, but, with an eloquence exceeding 
 that of man himself — give voice to the 
 imprisoned poetry of his soul. 
 Trees are the friend of man in his 
 Religion as in his Art. They give con- 
 solation to the Soul when burdened with 
 its weight of bitter agony. Christ went 
 to the trees in His hour of bloody sweat. 
 Elijah and the other Prophets and the 
 Saints of old went to the trees seeking 
 rest. Trees were the only witnesses to 
 the Buddha's act of renunciation in his 
 solemn hour of enlightenment. 
 Trees are the comforters and compan- 
 ions of mankind. Philosophers, saints 
 and poets are not unmindful of them. 
 They know that trees are a company of 
 peacemakers. They know that Christ, 
 preaching the Sermon on the Mount, in 
 the midst of trees, included them as joint 
 heirs to the beatitude, "Blessed are the 
 peacemakers, for they shall be called the 
 Children of God." 
 
 31 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 The Wren July 10. Thou tiny, fluttering thing, 
 quivering with life and joy, the music of 
 thy chatter tells me of thy simple, happy 
 life. Thou singest not of heroic deeds, 
 nor of the heart's sorrow. Thy days are j 
 passed in sprightly chatterings to all live i 
 things about thee. Thou dost enliven me, 
 and I love thee and am thankful. Thy 
 gentle virtues are suited to thy home 
 mission and its tranquil rounds. Thou 
 art a commonsense philosopher and no 
 mystic wdth deep vision. Lightly dost 
 thou sit on the bough — lightly poised as 
 the bee in mid-air. Light is thy burden. 
 Thou dost take no thought for the mor- 
 row. Thou art a true Christian. Thou 
 dost trust thy Heavenly Father for "all 
 of these things which shall be added unto 
 thee." Thou makest me glad when I 
 listen to thy music as it ripples out in a 
 tiny stream of happy life. O, Jenny 
 Wren; 0, Jenny Wren! 
 
 Joy in All July 19. Joy goes through the world in 
 Guises all guises. She comes anywhere and at 
 any time. Sunday morning in the solemn 
 hymn-tones of the children in the church 
 the Soul finds the human longing for a 
 purer life and intimations of a love faith- 
 ful beyond the grave. She finds it in the 
 picture painted on the blue sky by the 
 tinkling dances of the aspen leaves; or 
 
 32 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 in the soft wavings of the palms of the 
 Paradise tree; or in the symmetry of the 
 spider's silver-spun web shining in the 
 sun under the cottage eaves. 
 
 August 1. Of all the months of the year August 
 I most love August. It is the season of 
 the harvest. It is the fullness of time in 
 the year. The day of preparation is past. 
 The labor is done. The waiting is over. 
 Nature is banqueting on the fruits of the 
 Fullness-of-Time. Joy and Peace sit be- 
 side her — a seraphic company! My heart 
 longs to partake of that perfect feast, for 
 then I shall be satisfied. 
 August is the time of the perfect 
 fruition sprung from the wedding of the 
 winter with the spring, as the child is the 
 consummation of the perfect union of 
 man with woman. A marriage without a 
 child is as a broken ring, an unfinished 
 circle — a year without an August. 
 In August, not the least of a tiny weed, 
 not a wild tree, not a vine, which bears 
 not its seed-child upon its bosom. Not 
 a bird or insect but has fulfilled its 
 proper function and is receiving the re- 
 ward of love. Nature is then August in 
 all the fullness of Maternity. She drinks of 
 the wine of the Fullness-of-Time. From 
 out the depths of her great heart is heard 
 the Song of the Seasons: "Now is the 
 
 33 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 Hour come; now are the hopes fulfilled; 
 now is the time of the consummation. 
 O blessed and consecrated moment, the 
 Sabbath Day of Nature — her festival of- 
 Rest and earthly type of eternal Peace! ^ 
 The Soul will await the coming of the i 
 Fullness-of-Time — the coming of August I 
 in the circle of her life. Shall she ever 
 sit at that banqueting table, and with Joy 
 and Peace drink of that cup? She will 
 trust and wait, knowing that every event 
 comes in its due season; that the moment 
 she shall deserve happiness, that moment 
 she shall receive it. Kant sublimely 
 teaches that man ought not to strive for 
 happiness, but so live as to be worthy 
 of it. 
 
 Joy, August 2. What a comedy is life often 
 Not Hell seen to be! How many foolish beliefs 
 and customs mislead mankind, hither and 
 thither, as the Will-O'-the-Wisp fantastic- 
 ally misleads the lonely night wayfarer 
 in the story book! Think of a company 
 gathered together to sing doleful songs 
 about the vanity of life and the torments 
 of hell, relegating all joy to some future, 
 possible heaven. Whereas the truth is, 
 life is no vanity, the "Preacher" notwith- 
 standing, save only as one may make it 
 so. Life is a divine existence of un- 
 speakable worth and there is "Joy in 
 
 34 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 widest commonalty spread." As to the 
 so much be-preached and be-sung hell 
 torments, they exist only in the imagina- 
 tion. The reality is that God is a god of 
 love and the visible universe is an out- 
 burst his own divine joy, not w^rath. 
 
 August 3. I am reading Rousseau's Con- Eousseau 
 fessions. What a book it is! What a 
 revelation of the heart and of life! I ad- 
 mire his ability to stand outside the pas- 
 sions, as it were, when passing judgment 
 upon himself. It must have required 
 moral courage; or was it simply that ex- 
 ceptional force which comes with genius, 
 to show the naked truth; to portray the 
 soul "with all its imperfections on its 
 head" to the outside world? 
 What a study the book is! What in- 
 tricacies, what subtle variations of char- 
 acter were bound up together in that 
 one human being named Jean Jacques 
 Rousseau! How vividly he shows the 
 power of circumstance and incident to 
 influence and mould character and life! 
 What a gift of penetrating expression he 
 has, which enables his words to get into 
 the mind so that the reader seems to be- 
 come, for the time being, Jean Jacques 
 Rousseau, himself, living again through 
 scenes and incidents in that remarkable 
 life. What delicate humor, what a lov- 
 
 35 
 
transplantation! 
 
 able nature, what a singular being! What 
 extreme opposites brought together in 
 one personality — voluptuous yet loving 
 the pure, fickle yet faithful, lying yet de- 
 voted to truth, thieving yet honest! He 
 seemed a living Aeolian harp responding 
 to every note of life about him. Could 
 any other pen tell the same things with 
 such skill and delicacy in the use of 
 language? 
 
 Rousseau did not prostitute his reason 
 by using sophistrj^ to condone the errors 
 into which his inflammable temperament 
 and the customs of the times led him. 
 He judged and condemned himself. 
 Could a bad man prefer the compan- 
 ionship of streams, flowers, the sky and 
 his own thoughts in the country quiet, 
 to the excitements of a life in Paris? 
 It was his misfortune to live in an age 
 of loose sexual morals and manners; even 
 so, I believe that had he early met and 
 married the woman whom he could truly 
 love he would have been faithful. 
 
 Under August 11. I come down to be alone 
 the Trees with the trees, to see how the sunlight 
 and the shadows gild and paint them as 
 they are moved by the gentle summer 
 breeze; to be with the birds, now almost 
 songless, to watch their swift and silent 
 flight from tree to tree; to look at the 
 
 36 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 blue sky above me where sails a great 
 white cloud; to watch the matchless grace 
 of the little leaves as they dance to the 
 music of the winds. I came out, stagger- 
 ing beneath my load of pain, to live one 
 hour with Beauty in the midst of this 
 sweetness, that my soul may swim out into 
 the ocean of spiritual perception, wash 
 and be clean, strengthened and restored 
 by these living waters of contemplation. 
 
 August 23. It is verj^ warm. The The Happiness 
 turkeys have sought the shadows under of a Double 
 a clump of small trees where the shade Existence 
 is dense. They are picking and cleaning 
 their feathers. Occasionally I hear them 
 peeping to each other in low tones. 
 How I wish that I, too, could so order 
 my life as to trust wholly to Nature for 
 every provision, as do these poor fowls — 
 wiser than I! I desire a life rid of all 
 artificial arrangements; to live out of 
 doors, without house or possessions, as 
 did Saint Anthony. But could I live 
 alone as he did? No. I am not great 
 enough. The heart bleeds in secret for a 
 human comrade. As did Rousseau, so 
 does the Soul crave for the happiness of 
 a double existence in the perfect union 
 of two souls in one; yet, like Amiel, noth- 
 ing that might give offense to the Ideal 
 in her would satisfy. 
 
 37 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 Alone, the Soul knows not happiness. 
 How was it with the grand old Saint and 
 Father of Hermits? 
 
 The Tragedy August 26. I look out on the world 
 of Life What do I see? I see the writhing worm 
 trodden down upon the roadside. I see 
 the man of truth and courage languish- 
 ing in the dungeon — Christ nailed to the 
 tree; Socrates condemned to drink the 
 fatal cup. I see the untimely dropping' 
 of buds and young fruits. I see the trust- 
 ing heart betrayed and left desolate. I 
 see every creature preyed upon by some 
 other creature. 
 
 Innocent Joy August 27. Innocent joy is the realiza- 
 a Phoenix tion of the fable of the phoenix. It is 
 the only state that possesses the inherent 
 power of renewing itself. All other states 
 wear themselves out; joy alone persists, 
 because it is a state of holiness, or, 
 wholeness. Joy is the essence of Eternal 
 Life. 
 
 Bope August 28. The nature of Hope is child- 
 and Faith like. She breathes of the innocence of 
 ignorance. She knows not Truth, hence 
 Watts represents her as blindfolded. 
 There lingers about her garments the 
 scent of wild flowers, and the fresh air 
 of the fields of childhood's immaturity. 
 She is light-hearted and merry as the 
 child is playful and sunny-tempered. 
 38 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 Faith is god-like. Hope is mortal, 
 wayward. She frolics beside us in our 
 hours of ease, and in our seasons of 
 weakness we need this sunny child of 
 the human breast to chase aw^ay our 
 gloom, to soothe the days of peevishness 
 and care. Do not take this sweet child 
 from us! We need her smiles, her inno- 
 cent prattle in the April seasons of life, 
 before the Soul has grown strong enough 
 to journey up the Heights reached only 
 by the austere virtues of Reason, by 
 strong souls in seasons of achievement, 
 there to grasp the hand of Faith as she 
 stands alone, sublime, crowned by the 
 everlasting spaces and the stars. 
 
 October 17. I heard the Boston Sym- Beethoven'. 
 phony Orchestra, in concert, on the even- Eighth 
 ing of the 15th at Memorial Hall. What Symphony 
 were my emotions on entering that tem- 
 ple dedicated to the memory of those 
 who had fought and died fighting against 
 my beloved count*^y, my beloved South- 
 land! Did the Soul receive a jar? While 
 listening to Beethoven's Eighth Sym- 
 phony I freely forgave. Reconciliation 
 passed into my heart, not alone to the 
 soldiery dead, but to those also who had 
 cast the mud of brutal insult upon the 
 Soul's fairest part. Peace descended, 
 clasped ray hand and led me up! 
 
 39 
 
TRANSPLANTATIO 
 Beethoven said, "He to whom my music 
 reveals its whole significance is liftet 
 up above all the sorrows of the world.' 
 The Holy OCTOBER 18. I close not my window 
 Stars curtains, for I will not shut out the mosi 
 that I can see of Beauty. In the dav 
 there are the sky, the sun and the clouds. 
 At night there are the moon, the holy 
 stars and the mysteries of space. 
 And why are the stars called "holy?'"! 
 Because they bring truths. Aye, the littlef 
 earth, the gravel, and the sand brings 
 truths also. Nay, but the stars bring: 
 truths illimitable, infinite. Therefore 
 are they called holy. 
 
 To Best February 18, 1891. To rest means to 
 stop all conscious, voluntary activities,, 
 withdrawing attention from everything; 
 and turning the whole mind toward the 
 realization of the truth that there is no 
 life save the divine life which flows 
 into and fills all things continuallv, and 
 then, just to let that life flow in and 
 fill you consciously. 
 AMetJwdical February 19. The thought of a methodi- 
 se cal life grows within the Soul. What 
 then shall be her life-work? It must 
 be one for which she may be fitted by 
 nature and opportunity. She believes 
 that she belongs to the dumb species. 
 What then can she work at? Nature 
 40 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 has given her the great heart overflow- A Methodical 
 ing with love and compassion for all Life 
 things. Though born and reared in the 
 so-called "aristocratic" station in life, 
 her heart turns from that to the so-called 
 "common" people with love and sym- 
 pathy. It is their need she understands; 
 their joy and sorrow which touch her 
 most deeply. She often shrinks from 
 contact with the "upper" classes — those 
 "lesser barbarians," as Carlyle calls them 
 — because of their frivolous, not to say 
 brutal, pastimes; their self-assumed su- 
 periority over the great mass of the 
 people. The folly, the injustice of it 
 all comes over her like a flood that will 
 sweep the last vestige of it from her 
 own heart. 
 
 The great Mother has enwrapped the 
 Soul in an atmosphere of ideal harmony, 
 the temper of which is all too sensitive 
 for the ordinary associations of life. 
 Circumstance and soiiow have cut the 
 ties of the usual family experience. The 
 great Mother's voice is heard calling, 
 "Thou art separated that thou shalt do 
 thy work for my desolate children. 'The 
 fields are white to the harvest and the 
 laborers are few.' " 
 
 March 5. The evening star shining in 
 glory, undimmed by the crescent moon 
 
 41 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 To the — the evening star and the Lonely Human 
 Condemned Soul. Beauty and Silence are the re- 
 ligion of the hour. 
 
 The Soul bows her head. She asks to be 
 shown her work. Nature declares it 
 shall be in prisons where the condemned 
 sit alone, friendless and unpitied. 
 *'Go thou to them. Be thou the friend 
 of the friendless. Take thy free gift of 
 pity and love. Show thou the face of 
 Truth, that looking upon her the sorrow- 
 ful may be healed and made glad." 
 O God! canst thou give strength for this? 
 The Soul sensitive to every impression, 
 even to suffering keenly from ordinary 
 contacts in life, can she become strong 
 to enter the condemned cell and to have 
 fellowship with criminals? Courage 
 abandons her. 
 
 "The criminal is thy brother, thy poor, 
 untaught, hungry, naked brother. For 
 him, as for thee, the evening star shines 
 in glory, and Beauty and Silence to- 
 gether descend from the heavens upon 
 the earth." 
 
 The Bay March 6. The state of ill health can not 
 
 of Peace last — the state of ill-at-easement of Soul 
 
 at Band and body. All will be well when the 
 
 Soul shall arrive at her proper relations 
 
 with Life — when perfect connection is 
 
 made between the spirit and Spirit. 
 
 42 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 The day of peace is at hand — the day 
 of health, of silent joy, of great working 
 power — when eyes and hands and lips 
 shall become as active as hitherto have 
 been only the brain and the abounding, 
 suffering heart. Ah, the Soul has striven 
 all her life to reach such a harmony of 
 living! How far short has she fallen! 
 How often sunk into the mire of folly! 
 to recover herself always, never to be 
 wholly lost; as Christian fell into the 
 Slough of Despond, yet got out on the 
 side toward the Celestial City. 
 
 March 7. Nature makes nothing for Beauty 
 Beauty's sake, simply to be beautiful. 
 She aims not at Beauty, for Beauty is 
 not outside of Nature. She makes a 
 flower, a tree, a sunset, a man, a w^oman. 
 There is need for the thing, therefore 
 it is produced and therefore it is beau- 
 tiful; for Nature is Beauty. Beauty 
 means perfect adaptatio.1, perfect fitness 
 to use. There is purpose in the color 
 on a rose leaf, or in the milky whiteness 
 of a lily's throat. 
 
 March 8. I am filled with joy on see- Branches 
 ing a green branch waved by the breeze; and Stars 
 or when looking at the stars as they 
 swing in space, moved by God's thought, 
 my soul stands awed; one is beautiful, 
 the other is sublime. The one I under- 
 
 43 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 stand; the other is beyond my compre- 
 hension, being lost in the mists and mys- 
 teries of infinite magnitude and distance. 
 Walt April 10. Walt Whitman died on the 
 Whitman's 25th of March— a great soul gone else- 
 Death where! 
 
 Goethe April 12. In his loves Goethe expressed I 
 the Romantic spirit in its extreme stage; 
 that is to say, individual experience was i 
 given full sway without regard to con- 
 trol of self or justice toward others; 
 which is the opposite of the moral soul 
 who, strong in his individuality, yet 
 recognizes the claims of others and is 
 all the stronger for so doing; who is the 
 truly social character, regarding himself 
 not as the isolated god of life to think 
 and act according as his own sweet will 
 may elect from moment to moment, but 
 rather as an organic member of one uni- 
 versal, divine system of life. Surely the 
 maxims of the old prophets have no part 
 in Goethe's loves — "To do justly and to 
 love mercy." He showed neither justice 
 nor mercy to the unfortunate women 
 whom he adored for one passing hour 
 only to desert them the next. 
 Love should be the outcome, the flower- 
 ing of a soul that is true to itself; true 
 to the principles of the spiritual life; 
 faithful as are the stars in their courses. 
 
 44 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 April 19. How wonderful is the human The Body 
 body! What a marvelous apparatus for 
 the uses of the indwelling spirit! What 
 admirable adjustments! What conveni- 
 ent appliances! The feet to the legs, the 
 toes to the feet, the nails to the toes. 
 The eyes to the brain — that marvelous 
 workshop where is wrought out the 
 ideas. Finer workmanship is done there 
 than is executed with rare skill by gold 
 and silver artisan, by miniature painter, 
 or by the grinder of great lenses where- 
 with to see that which eye hath not 
 seen. 
 
 I am awed when I think of the number- 
 less cycles that were needed in which 
 to complete this perfect shape moulded 
 by the indwelling spirit struggling for 
 expression in the world. 
 
 April 20. Life appears to us in mo- Great Truths 
 ments which are alw^ays fleeting; but just 
 as there is a perpetual daybreak, a per- 
 petual noonday, a perpetual midnight as 
 the earth wheels on her everlasting flight 
 among the stars, so do there abide the 
 Great Truths, although we see them not 
 in the swift and changing thoughts of 
 time. 
 
 April 21. The Soul will say why it is The Ocean 
 that she loves the ocean with so deep 
 and undying love. It is because the 
 
 45 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 ocean is the symbol of her inner life — 
 eternally restless, unfathomable, omnivo- 
 rous, illimitable! 
 
 The Storm ApmL 24. The day is fair, but within 
 IsBaging the inner world — this human microcos- 
 mos — the storm is raging — pain, weak- 
 ness, sorrow\ The Soul will be faithful. 
 She will say, "Though thou slay me, yet 
 will I trust in thee." She will look to 
 spiritual power for her ease, for her 
 strength, for her consolation. In pain, 
 yet she shall know quietness. In weak- 
 ness, she shall have strength. In sorrow, 
 she will kiss the cheek of joy. 
 Butterflies July 28. This is the time of the butter- 
 flies. I see them, with their great, black 
 wings spotted over with yellow, flutter- 
 ing and hovering over the sweet phlox 
 blooms. I see the small, pure- white but- 
 terflies, often two, sometimes three to- 
 gether, seeming at play with each other, 
 there is such whirling up and down, 
 coming together in apparent kisses, flut- 
 tering away again, and round and round 
 each other, up and down, sideways, for- 
 ward, backward, in some delicious dance 
 of lightness, grace and joy. 
 
 The Morning's August 22. I sit outdoors by the old 
 Baptism of hedge, among the grasses all wet with 
 
 Light and Life yesterday's rain. The Soul is beginning 
 to hold herself erect, self-poised because 
 46 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 pivoted on God. The forces of Nature 
 sustain me. I refuse to remain indoors. 
 I need the outdoor communion — the 
 morning's baptism of light and life from 
 the open sky upon my naked soul. As 
 regards the body, what are a few trifling 
 sensations that try to force themselves 
 upon my notice, to the inflowing of 
 divine life of which I am conscious as 
 filling my entire being. 
 
 August 23. Great souls see divinity in Divinity in 
 monotony; in plain and simple things. Monotony 
 Kant was not bored by a monotonous 
 life. He never went out of the district 
 in which he was born, and he passed 
 outwardly a monotonous existence, doing 
 the same things day in and day out, as 
 the sun and the moon and the earth do 
 the same things. 
 
 Only vacant minds are bored by monot- 
 ony. It is themselves with whom they 
 are bored. The mind rich in thought 
 possesses not one kingdom only, but all 
 kingdoms for its own. 
 
 August 24. This growing into one-ness My Miracles 
 with the universe: this being fitted to 
 one's place in Nature — the infinite build- 
 ing not made with hands — as the stone 
 is chipped by the mason and fitted into 
 its proper place in the human habita- 
 tion: this swelling and bursting of the 
 
 47 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 spiritual seed-pod: this reaching out 
 of the Soul's antennae to receive the 
 thrill that comes from personal touch 
 with the Spirit of the universe: these 
 silent yet potent moments of revelation 
 — ah, these are the miracles I believe in I 
 The Soul who knows them has some- 
 what to say, if she find words. 
 
 The Little Hen September 7. I listen to the little hen 
 as she sings her psalm of content, in one 
 long-drawn crescendo note, followed by 
 staccatos in quick succession. There is 
 a rasping quality in her tone as though 
 her throat were some rude violin made 
 of a gourd, having the notes and pitch 
 but not the timbre of the violin — as she 
 sings her psalm of content. 
 
 The Winter September 11. The Lonely Human Soul 
 
 of the Heart is faltering today. Her world is the 
 
 desolation of desolation and scarcely to 
 
 be borne are the voices of the little 
 
 crickets in the grass — harbingers of a 
 
 yet distant winter. They tell of the 
 
 winter of the heart where only echoes 
 
 of Love's death-song may be heard. 
 
 As One of September 12. Oh, may thy life with 
 
 the Stars of "all its crimes upon thy head," with all 
 
 Heaven j^g poor failures, yet become useful and 
 
 shine out with the beauty of holiness, 
 
 for thou dost not cease to "strive on 
 
 with unswerving will:" even as the little 
 
 48 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 
 earth, though carrying upon her bosom 
 her black load of sorrow and despair, 
 yet shines to other worlds as one of the 
 stars of heaven! 
 
 September 13. The unconquerable pride The Pride 
 and self-poise of genius — does it come and Self -Poise 
 from the consciousness of possessing of Genius 
 superior talents, or from excess of sensi- 
 tiveness required for genius, or from 
 both? The man or woman of genius — 
 they do not seek confidence and affec- 
 tion. Their natures silently make their 
 demand. Where they do not receive, 
 they are as an exile in the world, or as an 
 alien shut out from his proper dominion. 
 They can not go out to ask for that which 
 yet they need. The kings of the earth 
 may not become her beggars. 
 September 14. My mind is omnivorous. 
 My difficulty in acquiring knowledge is 
 that I can hardly confine my attention to 
 any one special study. I desire phil- 
 osophy, the sciences, poetry, history, 
 general literature all at once, with an 
 impatience hard to control; in fact, I am 
 troubled with an appetite greater than 
 I have digestive powers to take charge of. 
 September 15. Poetry engages intellect Poetry Versus 
 and heart. Science engages only the in- 
 tellect. Poetry needs facts, ideas and 
 feelings, science only facts and ideas. 
 
 49 
 
 A Mind 
 Omnivorous 
 
 Science 
 
TRANSPLANTATION 
 Poetry gives expression to emotions of 
 love and reverence; science has no emo-j 
 tions. Science looks at a flov^^er merely 
 as an object and describes it, poetry sees 
 a flow^er as a living being and recognizes i 
 its relations in the bonds of sympathy 
 to universal life. Science is the world 
 of description, poetry the world of in- 
 sight. Science knows not beauty. Poetry 
 sees nothing apart from beauty. Science 
 requires the analytic faculty, poetry the 
 receptive. 
 
 Sudden Events September 16. What we call sudden 
 events are simply those moments when 
 that which has already existed becomes 
 visible. 
 
 50 
 
Unfolding- 
 
 The Soul stands upon 
 
 the threshold of the next and final 
 
 stage of a grand philosophical 
 
 faith and vital religion . 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 Marcpi 5, 1892. The soul is awaking The Soul 
 more and more fully. She is real-izing ^waTcing 
 life; seeing that the divine nature of 
 things is the only actuality. She is ar- 
 riving at her freedom. Little now re- 
 mains which can give her offense. For- 
 merly she was vulnerable at all points, 
 a poor, weak creature indeed, who might 
 fall a prey at any moment to the smallest 
 incident or accident of life — the fa- 
 miliarity of a servant, or of a "common" 
 person, any slight or neglect from a per- 
 son of fashion, any act of injustice to- 
 ward her, any under-valuation of her 
 powers and personal qualities. None of 
 these things can now humiliate or hurt 
 the Soul. The barriers are gone. She 
 now regards the "common" people as 
 her equals. She desires their confidence 
 and friendship. She desires to draw 
 near to them as one of them. As for the 
 person of fashion, he or she is seen to 
 
 53 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 be only an object of pity, whom the 
 Soul desires to lift out of the mire of 
 folly and vanity if possible. Any act of 
 injustice done to the Soul she regards 
 as an opportunity for the practice of 
 virtue, as a test whether or no she pos- 
 sesses the true spirit of humility, if she 
 can bear with patience and without bit- 
 terness to be thought ill of, reminding 
 herself how much nearer the truth such 
 an estimation is than that conveyed by 
 words of praise and flattery. For after 
 all the Lonely Human Soul is but a poor 
 creature struggling upward — a little wornf 
 crawling up a mountain. To be spoken 
 of as a worm struggling in the dust would 
 be nearer the truth than to be called an 
 angel of light. 
 
 Soul April 22. A terrible impatience has 
 Travail possessed the Soul of late. She feels that 
 she can not wait for Nature to do her 
 work. Shut within her room, which ap- 
 pears as the cell of a convict, the sounds 
 of outside life come to her. She hears 
 the busy hammers of the house-builders, 
 merry whistlings of young men and boys 
 as they pass rapidly by. She knows, 
 too, of the beauty of the springtime, of 
 the bursting of the buds and the silent 
 process of the robing of the trees. But 
 none of these things are for her. Alone, 
 
 54 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 walled in, she lies stretched upon her ^^"^ 
 bed of pain. Travail 
 
 The Soul will arise from this low plane 
 of suffering and fear up to the Heights 
 where Epictetus lived, where Emerson 
 lived, w^here the Saints and Prophets of 
 old lived. She will learn self-denial 
 and a wise and loving obedience to the 
 Cosmic Order. 
 
 She will look up at the little picture of 
 the sea hanging on the wall. She will 
 gaze in imagination far out toward the 
 Ocean of Truth upon whose shores she 
 now stands. She will listen to the sound 
 of the surf rolling in, bringing freedom 
 and consolation to her here entangled in 
 the net of sorrow. 
 
 May 2. The voice of the oriole sounds 
 like the cry of a lost spirit for its Beloved 
 One. In the midst of the marvelous 
 beauty of this season the Lonely Human 
 Soul lies scourged and imprisoned. Shall 
 not these stripes become her pathway 
 leading up to the Verities? 
 
 May 3. How is it possible to rise so com- 
 pletely above bodily pain, unfavorable 
 surroundings, and the heart's sorrow as 
 to be not only equable but cheerful and 
 at peace? 
 
 Did Epictetus, did Socrates achieve this, 
 or w^as it that they, too, only saw Truth 
 
 55 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 which might be attained, yet fell short 
 of it in their daily practice of virtue, 
 just as I fall short? 
 
 When the Soul lies in the Valley of 
 Humiliation, every sound is interpreted 
 by the imagination as a note of sadness. 
 The voices of the mating birds wound 
 her heart. The sounds of the noisy car- 
 penters harrow the mind that has no 
 home. The heavens which hold the sun 
 of life's blessings, sink beneath ,the 
 horizon, and the night-side alone is vis- 
 ible, without a star of consolation, and 
 the storm rages, and the Soul is beaten 
 and tossed by the tempest. 
 Stand firm, O Soul! lest thou be found 
 not worthy to preach the great Truths 
 when the hour shall arrive and thou wilt 
 arise in freedom to go forth into the 
 world. If thou livest not for Truth, thou 
 wouldst better die. To live to eat and to 
 sleep would be a shame — just so much 
 room in the world taken up, and by an 
 unfruitful fig tree, which shall be cut 
 down and cast into the fire. 
 
 The Ideal ^^^^ 4. When I visited the Convent, one 
 Vision of sweet Sister told me that whenever she 
 the Universe was not engaged in active duties she 
 escaped to the Chapel to visit the "Blessed 
 Sacrament;" and so will I, when disen- 
 gaged and alone, yield up the eyes of my 
 
 56 
 
NFOLDING 
 
 soul to contemplation of the Blessed 
 Sacrament of the Ideal Vision of the Uni- 
 verse. I lie prostrate and adoring in the 
 Real Presence of this beauteous picture 
 of Spiritual Immensities. I desire to be- 
 come in harmony with this Reality. I 
 find my rest in contemplation. 
 
 May 10. All the energies must now go to v-rifting 
 the healing of the wounded parts. I have 
 not been able to study for months and 
 can read but little, just lying all day, in 
 half sleeping, half waking state; drifting, 
 drifting, farther and farther tow^ard the 
 deep current of Divine Being, with an 
 ever increasing realization of the truth 
 that all things are the expression of in- 
 telligence, the young leaf that comes 
 forth from the woody branch, as well as 
 myself. 
 
 I seem to be passing through some pro- 
 cess of death, slowly dying, inch by inch, 
 day by day, hour by hour, moment by 
 moment; dying to the old life to awaken 
 to the new. I am nerveless. An irresisti- 
 ble indifference and lack of power for 
 action takes possession of me. As the 
 seaweed floats on the bosom of the ocean, 
 so do I lie upon the bosom of the great 
 deep of divine Life — drifting, drifting. 
 
 May 11. Beside me stands a jar of apple 
 blossoms; another of the purple lilac and 
 
 57 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 The Bleeding the lovely red wings off the maple trees. 
 Heart On my desk stands a large bunch of dog- 
 wood twigs, pine and spirea. On the 
 bookcase, wild honeysuckles, wild pan- 
 sies and the bleeding heart — the bleeding 
 heart. Oh, the bleeding heart I Is there 
 consciousness in these exquisite blos- 
 soms? 
 
 AnInrusJi May 12. I wish I could describe the state 
 of Poiver of my thought and feeling. At times I 
 am aware of an immense inrush of 
 power, an enormous storing up of 
 energy to think, to feel, to do, to go; to 
 start off on long foot journeys, to tramp 
 over native and foreign countries, ming- 
 ling with the people; to engage in social 
 work, where I shall receive wings, the 
 wings of good health, where there will 
 be no longer consciousness of the body's 
 machinery to put in motion, but con- 
 sciousness only of will and thought to do. 
 The SouVs June 6. The Soul is visited by moments 
 Contentment of exquisite happiness. She knows not 
 from whence they come. Outward cir- 
 cumstances are not such as to warrant 
 these glimpses of the Soul's serenity — the 
 serenity of Beethoven' s Pastoral Sym- 
 phony — nevertheless the heavens open 
 above and shower upon her moments 
 of sweetest bliss — the Soul's content- 
 ment. 
 
 58 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 The Soul fears not ennui, for time is 
 not long enough for the lover of all 
 things. She fears not the future. She 
 rests in faith that the good she earns is 
 coming with the process of the suns, 
 and the honest Soul ought to ask no 
 more. She fears not treachery. The 
 heart may not again place her fully 
 garnered store all in one frail granary. 
 She fears not death, for death is the arms 
 of Nature I 
 
 June 7. The blooming of my grapevine The Blooming 
 is accomplished. Beneath the broad, of the Grape 
 green leaves this silent and divine drama 
 was enacted. All that I saw or was sen- 
 sible of was that a halo of pale gold rays 
 came forth and a delicious fragrance 
 filled the air. The gold vanished and the 
 scent was gone and all was done. The 
 marriage rite was solemnized and life 
 was given, so silent, so potent and so 
 beautiful. Would that human life might 
 be like this! 
 
 June 12. I lie out under the open sky, to Clouds 
 watch the silent dignity of the clouds as 
 they come up over the mountain. First 
 there is a mere speck or rim of white, 
 or a little peak jutting above the green 
 crest, rising higher every moment, grow- 
 ing larger and larger until a great cloud 
 looms up ana sails away to the zenith. 
 
 59 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 What grand leisure, what freedom in the 
 motions of the clouds, forever expanding 
 and moving onward! How they are con- 
 tinually changing, separating, rearrang- 
 ing, melting into one another, combin- 
 ing into new forms, shaping great conti- 
 nents and huge mountains, islets and 
 fragments of vaporous stuff, like "the 
 baseless fabric of a dream." They seem 
 to be alive. They are the thoughts of 
 the sky, and the stars are its memories I 
 
 Doves' Voices June 16. The air is full of the music of 
 the doves' languishing voices. They seem 
 to be the sighs of love coming up from 
 out the great heart of Nature — that great 
 bosom of love too full to be repressed. 
 I look to see the green grass heave in 
 rhythmical breaths as I listen to those 
 love-notes which move my soul to tears 
 of tenderness. 
 
 Why the JuNE 17. Life would not be worth the 
 World Is living, worth the pain and struggle, were 
 So Beautiful a not for joy, the joy of loving and 
 being loved. This is why the world is so 
 beautiful — a fitting palace in which to 
 celebrate the marriage of souls, the wed- 
 dings of spirit comrades. 
 Eobins June 22. The air is resounding with the 
 jubilate shouts of the robins. Two little 
 red-breasted bird-men are shouting at 
 once and the chorus beats anything I 
 
 60 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 ever heard. The high pitch, the precis- 
 ion of the notes, the sweetness of tone, 
 the volubility, the lusty vigor, the ram- 
 pant spirits, the positive gladness of it 
 all, produces an impression upon me 
 which is actually exciting. I am told that 
 these concerts celebrate the occasions of 
 hatching out of the young. What hymns 
 of joy they seem to be! 0, thou Little 
 Brother, thou dost teach this poor, low- 
 spirited heart to look up and be thank- 
 ful! 
 
 June 23. Years of pain and solitary con- is the Bitter 
 
 finement become the season of the Soul's Sweet Today? 
 
 purgation. Is the bitter sweet today, O 
 
 Soul? 
 
 It is not altogether bitter. 
 
 July 3. A little moment of divine life a Little 
 came to the Soul this afternoon. She was Moment of 
 content to suffer and to w^ait for the Divine Life 
 fulness of time. 
 
 July 5. The pine tree changes with the The Pine Tree 
 hours of the day. 
 
 In the morning it stands dark and mys- 
 terious against the eastern sky, like the 
 young poet waiting for fame. 
 At mid-day it is crowned with a pale 
 gold shower of light — the voice of the 
 people's acclamation — and the mysteri- 
 ous shadows have retreated wdthin its 
 depths of trunk and branch, as the most 
 
 61 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 sensitive thought retires into the depths 
 of the heart before tlie glare of the 
 world. 
 
 At evening, from the west, the sun shines 
 upon the young blossoming cones, and 
 behold! the tree is hung with a thousand 
 tapers of light, as the sun sets and night 
 comes down from the sky. 
 It is the smile of the Holy One, crowned 
 and blessed, who is bidding farewell to 
 the world. 
 The Life of July 6. My mind seems to have a life of 
 the Mind its own, distinct from the life of the 
 body. I do not lose consciousness of dis- 
 eased conditions, yet at times it almost 
 seems to be the body of some other per- 
 son, so free, independent and rejoicing 
 is the life of the mind. 
 
 Brain and July 12. As the ear is but the physical 
 Spirit contrivance, by means of which the 
 slower ether waves are transmitted to 
 the brain, so may the brain be the mere 
 physical contrivance by means of which 
 matter is brought into contact with 
 spirit. 
 
 The July 18. What is the commonplace? It 
 Common'place is thought and action without purpose, 
 without need. Every act that is from 
 necessity has its poetical aspect. Only 
 the needless act is without poetry. It is 
 mean from end to end. Hence all af- 
 
 62 
 
I NFOLDING 
 
 fectations are commonplace and can not 
 become poetical. 
 
 July 19. It is summer, summer, summer- Summer 
 land! I sit on the little porch overhung 
 with grapevines, in wild gracefulness 
 untrimmed by the pruning knife. Sun- 
 shine floods the world. A dewdrop sap- 
 phire trembles between two leaves. Some 
 tint of red calls to my eyes, it is the 
 clover-heads standing like an army of 
 little soldiers, each one proudly holding 
 up his gay-colored helmet to the sun. 
 As the breeze moves over the spider webs 
 on the grass, it appears as a magician 
 who conjures up silver to scatter in 
 shimmering threads as he goes. In the 
 distance the green dome of a large tree 
 rises against the sky; nothing is more 
 beautiful than the tremors of the morn- 
 ing winds there. As they pass along each 
 leaf, the tree is hung with tiny bells of 
 light. Radiant spots of sunshine are 
 reflected from the leaves in the tops of 
 the plum tree, forming a miniature galaxy 
 of stars arranged in clusters and festoons 
 similar to the suns on the Milky Way. 
 Such semblance hath all things in Nature 
 from the leaf to the star! 
 
 July 20. What I believe to be the pro- 
 foundest truth in life is the opposite of 
 the dogma of Total Depravity. It is that 
 
 63 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 A Divine instead of man's thoughts being evil con- 
 
 Music tinually and his heart desperately wicked, 
 
 the deepest note in his constitution to be 
 
 struck is one that will give out a divine 
 
 music and no chord of hell. 
 
 An Exquisite August 20. The Poet has an exquisite 
 
 Pain of Soul pain of the Soul. She can do nothing 
 
 but lie still and weep. Life — Nature — is 
 
 touching her with infinite grace and 
 
 beauty. 
 
 Transmutation August 30. All the filth, all the bad 
 smells — all — belong to the earth. She is 
 able to take care of all. She receives all 
 into her bosom, as the heart of a divine 
 love receives back with forgiveness the 
 most criminal offender, purifying, regen- 
 erating. 
 
 I try to escape from these noxious things. 
 They do not belong to me. But they be- 
 long to the earth. She does not try to 
 escape from them. They are hers. In 
 her divine life she transmutes all into the 
 good of her own uses. May not I too be- 
 come cosmic, transmuting evil into good, 
 recreating all that may come to me, as 
 the earth recreates, into the pure gold 
 of a divine existence? 
 
 The Soul in August 31. The Soul is passing through 
 
 Transition si transition stage. She lies as the seed 
 
 in the ground that appears to die before 
 
 it germinates into the new life. There 
 
 64 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 is a pause. Thought is asleep. When it 
 awakens, it will be to a new and higher 
 interpretation of life; the old agony 
 passed away; the fluctuations of hope 
 and despair sunk out of sight; the new 
 life of faith and power and joy; the new 
 interpretation of the universe in its 
 spiritual significance. 
 
 September 3. It is said that Moses went "Gods, 
 up into the mountain and received the Though in 
 divine law. I say that I, too, go up into the Germ" 
 the mountain and receive the divine law. 
 I am called a skeptic and an infidel. I 
 say that those persons who so speak are 
 themselves skeptics and infidels because 
 they say that only a few persons, who 
 lived thousands of years ago, were in- 
 spired; but I say that inspiration is tak- 
 ing place today. They draw the limit 
 to the operation of divine power, while 
 I draw no limit to it. They say that 
 Jesus only was the Son of God, and I 
 say that you are the Son of God, and I 
 am the Son of God and that everyone is 
 the Son of God because God is the Father 
 and Creator of everyone. Inspiration is 
 the perception of Truth. Inspiration is 
 here. Receive it. Divinity is here. 
 Use it. 
 
 September 4. Other life than our own 
 w^e call "nature," such as the cricket, 
 
 65 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 The Poetic with its musical and solitary note, or 
 Perspective trees, or mountains in their silent beauty, 
 and that nature in its totality appears 
 clothed in a garment of divine peace. 
 We talk of love for Nature as though 
 communion with her brought us nearer 
 to God. The truth is that Nature ap- 
 pears thus majestic because she is not 
 our own life. We are at a sufficient dis- 
 tance from her to see with the poetic 
 perspective. We can look with dispas- 
 sionate eyes at that which is outside and 
 beyond ourselves. Could we view it from 
 the poetic perspective we should see that 
 our own existence is "nature" and that 
 it, too, is clothed in a garment of divine 
 beauty and peace. Only the philosopher 
 and the poet can discern life truly, be- 
 cause they rise to those heights whence 
 man is seen in his divine aspect. 
 
 designation September 12. The Soul is sinking 
 deeper and deeper into the world of res- 
 ignation. She is frequently visited by 
 moments of spiritual acceptance. The 
 hour of impatience, of rebellion, of bitter 
 agony, is passing away. 
 
 A Jar of September 13. I lie and take not my 
 
 Grasses eyes off a jar of grasses that stands upon 
 
 my table. I am entranced by their simple 
 
 beauty. I will be still and at peace, as 
 
 they are still and at peace. 
 
jUNFOLDING 
 
 October 2. Few there be who give the 
 Soul food to eat, or drink to slake her 
 thirst. In solitude she is filled. When 
 alone, then is she fed and given drink. 
 Does this mean that the Soul receives 
 more from herself than from others? 
 "The Kingdom of Heaven is within you," 
 said Christ. 
 
 The Soul has passed through all stages 
 of unfolding which the intellectual de- 
 velopment of the world has experienced, 
 She has had her emergence out of un- 
 consciousness; her stage of ignorance and 
 mere sensation when she began to look 
 about her; her period of absolute cre- 
 dulity, followed by that of wonder and 
 doubt, and her flood of revolt and skep- 
 ticism which swept all before it — all the 
 accumulations of false beliefs. After that 
 came the period in which was developed 
 the habit of a slow and painstaking ef- 
 fort to gather knowledge, at which time 
 a cold and critical materialism predom- 
 inated. The Soul cried aloud, but Nature 
 was dead and gave no reply. She is now 
 well advanced in the scientific stage. She 
 is putting into its proper place each fact, 
 slowly accumulated during the years. 
 She is learning to generalize and begin- 
 ning to grasp principles. It is now a de- 
 lightful occupation to think. As each 
 idea appears, she places it in its proper 
 
 67 
 
 Stages of 
 tJw SouVs 
 Unfolding 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 setting. It is like making mosaic pic- 
 tures and seeing each stone drop into its 
 proper place. Instead of the old pain 
 and despair, comes the delight of creat- 
 ing her world, as the painter sees his 
 canvas begin to breathe, or the sculptor 
 is enraptured when he beholds the marble 
 assuming the outlines and activities of 
 life. The Soul stands upon the threshold 
 of the next and final stage of a grand 
 philosophical faith and vital religion. 
 
 The Poet October 3. The poet is not occupied with 
 his own individual interests, as is the 
 practical man. The poet becomes all 
 persons and all things. Through sym- 
 pathy he loses himself in other lives. 
 He lies out in the sunshine seemingly 
 idle. In reality he is working with the 
 laborer, down in the ditch digging to lay 
 the water pipes; or he is playing with 
 the school children at recess, until the 
 school bell rings to call them back to 
 tasks, and the voices at play are hushed. 
 He sees the distant home of one he loves. 
 He lives the newly wedded life. He 
 brings to all the elements of love and sym- 
 pathy. He is the personal friend of the 
 near pine tree. He responds to its in- 
 vitation to come and dwell with it. 
 
 October 4. Poetry involves abstract 
 ideas. I hear a child's merry laugh. It 
 
 68 
 
Poetry 
 Involves 
 Abstract 
 Ideas 
 
 UNFOLDING 
 
 becomes poetry for me only as the sound 
 suggests the idea of a child's merry laugh 
 as an element in life; that is to say, the 
 concrete idea of the individual laugh 
 must be lifted into the abstract idea of 
 any child's laugh. The particular must 
 be seen in the light of its universal, and 
 restored again to its particularity, refined 
 and purified, bringing back higher and 
 enlarged relations. "Fine distinctions are 
 prosaic," says Novalis. Poetry needs 
 broader touches. Having thrown the 
 light of the universal upon the particular, 
 in other words, having carried up the 
 concrete idea into the region of the ab- 
 stract, the poet descends again. He as- 
 cended only to fasten the object of 
 thought to its proper background, as a 
 picture is hung in the true light that it 
 may be seen to the best advantage. He 
 comes down again to behold the thought 
 in its new and proper light. 
 
 October 5. I am reading "Songs Before Sivinhume 
 
 Sunrise." What a day it is for me! The 
 
 book has lain a year on my shelf, not 
 
 even the leaves cut. I did not dream that 
 
 this poet would so awaken my soul. I 
 
 am one with him in his love of freedom, 
 
 — intellectual freedom from binding 
 
 cords of creed and dogma — freedom and 
 
 love for all. I am one with him in his 
 
 69 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 Swinhurne fearless truth-speaking; in his condemna- 
 tion of the power of kings and nobles 
 over the people; of the unjust claims of 
 mere caste; of priestcraft and of time- 
 and-place-serving. 
 
 Swinburne is for me a poet because he 
 voices what is in my own heart, giving 
 wings of light to my dumb thought that 
 lies in darkness, unable to rise, and with 
 the swiftness of the morning fly out 
 through the heavens. 
 
 He sings of the mind's darkness and of 
 the slavery of man in the land of kings. 
 His words ring with the sadness of a 
 terrible truth. 
 
 "Here with a hope hardly to wear, 
 
 Naked nations and bare 
 
 Swim, sink, strike out for the dawn." 
 
 His thought is permeated with the thought 
 of the Bible — I mean its stories and 
 poetical allegories. 
 
 Scattered throughout his poems occur 
 ideas that strike the thought-chord of the 
 dawn — 
 
 "By the first white light that stirs and 
 
 strives and hovers 
 As the bird above the brood her bosom 
 
 covers — " 
 
 Ever sustaining the key-note of Songs Be- 
 fore Sunrise sounding musically through 
 the mind. He uses simple words and 
 
 70 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 every sentence contains a thought-jewel : Swinburne 
 
 "The rhythmic anguish of growth and 
 the motion of mutable things." 
 
 "Was it love brake forth flower-fash- 
 ion, a bird with gold on his wings?" 
 
 The philosophy of his thoughts belongs 
 to modern Post-Kantian Idealism. 
 
 "Space is thoughts, and the wonders 
 
 thereof, and the secrets of space; 
 Is thought not more than the thunders 
 
 and lightnings? Shall thought give 
 
 place?" 
 "Time, father of life, and more great 
 
 than the life it begat and began. 
 Earth's keeper and heaven's and their 
 
 fate, lives, thinks and hath substance 
 
 in man." 
 "By the spirit are things overcome; 
 
 they are stark and the spirit hath 
 
 breath." 
 
 The two distinctively modern poets, 
 Swinburne and Walt Whitman, whether 
 consciously or unconsciously, sing in the 
 thought of Ideal Philosophy. Both recog- 
 nize the organic unity of thought with 
 its object. Walt Whitman's theme is love. 
 Swinburne's is freedom. 
 
 October 6. Surely this is the beginning, 
 at least, of resignation. The Soul is 
 visited by moments of a full conscious- 
 
 71 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 The Joy ness of the delicious pain of sorrow, of 
 of Trust purgation by the purifying waters of sor- 
 row; the uplifted, the uprisen joy of 
 arms emptied by grief of that which was 
 individual and partial, to be filled by that 
 which is eternal; the joy of trust, of 
 knowing that it is well, that it is the ful- 
 fillment of the law. 
 
 "0 Peter, October 21. The Soul knows not whence 
 Go Ring it comes that she is so happy today. She 
 Dem Bells" could shout in the words of the old negro 
 hymn : 
 
 "0 Peter, go ring dem bells. 
 I've heard from heaven today!" 
 
 The Diver October 22. There is an ever-increasing 
 of the Soul desire, nay, a hunger and thirst of the 
 Soul, to teach, to comfort the poor and 
 ignorant, to give them light on their dark 
 way; to show them that life — fulness of 
 life — lies within and not without in the 
 hands of some arbitrary Dens ex machind 
 who may bless or curse them as he 
 pleases. That joy and power and divinity 
 lie within their own souls and there only 
 may God be found; and if God, then all 
 the power, all the riches, all the sweet- 
 ness in the world. The diver of the Soul 
 shall plunge into the deepest waters of 
 the spirit to seek for the pearl of great 
 price. He will then cease not until he 
 share his treasure with his fellows. 
 
 72 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 October 23. The eastern sky this even- Clouds 
 ing is a living picture of the moods of and Moods 
 the mind. Great white clouds are com- 
 ing up from the horizon with long pro- 
 jections stretching to the zenith — symbols 
 of noble aspiration — followed by masses 
 of dark, storm clouds — the frowns and 
 despondency of the Soul. 
 
 October 29. Is it not more unreasonable Eternal 
 to say that man was produced from non- Thought 
 living matter, than to say that force, 
 energy, is the manifestation of Eternal 
 Thought, infinite Spirit? It may be urged 
 that non-living matter — the inorganic — 
 is a fact of experience which no one can 
 doubt; whereas Eternal Thought is merely 
 assumed to exist. But we see order and 
 intelligence operating all the processes of 
 the universe; hence reflection points as 
 definitely and positively to the existence 
 of Eternal Thought, as do our senses con- 
 strain us to believe in the existence of 
 the inorganic. To speak more accurately, 
 there is no non-living matter, for the in- 
 organic itself is alive, itself manifests the 
 presence of order and intelligence, and 
 the clearness of the dividing line grows 
 less and less, as the mind progresses on 
 its onward march of knowledge. 
 
 October 30. Poetry hath wings to fly 
 whithersoever she pleases. Poetry is 
 
 73 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 The Sciences free. The particular sciences are the 
 
 the Slaves slaves of thought. They fetch and carry 
 
 of Thought for the mind. Poetry is thought at its 
 
 mastery — the Queen, the Empress — she 
 
 sits upon the throne of the intellect and 
 
 the heart. 
 
 Tennyson's October 31. O Beautiful Soul, sent to 
 Death earth to sing of heavenly harmonies! 
 
 O beautiful passing away — Light and 
 
 Nature to the end! 
 
 O Sweetness, O Peace, O Joy, passing into 
 
 Eternity! 
 
 O tender consideration toward all I 
 
 O his thanks to his nurses! 
 
 O beautiful form in death! 
 
 O marks of time and contention softly 
 
 passing away! 
 
 O the noble face, still and fresh and 
 
 calm! 
 
 O the moon, a desolate world, shedding 
 
 light upon all! 
 
 O like the heart of the Renunciant whence 
 
 flows purest blessedness! 
 
 O the darkness and the silence and no 
 
 light save the moonlight! 
 
 O the gentle passing away! 
 
 O the season of the katydid's last song! 
 
 O the season of the death-song of the 
 
 cricket! 
 
 O the season of the goodbye-song of the 
 
 lonely grasshopper! 
 
 74 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 O the dying colors of Autumn on field 
 
 and mountain! 
 
 to know that Tennyson is dead! 
 
 the resurrection song of the redbird! 
 
 O the resurrection song of the human 
 
 Soul! 
 
 November 11. These pale, golden days, Indian 
 
 the last of autumn, the Indian Summer of Summer 
 
 the year! See the soft, white clouds lying 
 
 still in the blue above, like ships at 
 
 anchor, or moving onward, slowly and 
 
 majestic, like ships far out at sea. 
 
 O that the restless heart might be still 
 
 and at peace as Nature is at peace — a 
 
 ship at anchor, a cloud poised and at 
 
 rest on the bosom of heaven! 
 
 November 26. The sun poured down his The Lone 
 gold upon the w^orld, and the little boy Farmhouse 
 came in the carriage with the old horse, 
 to drive her out to the fields and the 
 valleys, and the lone farmhouse. 
 The good mother had spread a full 
 Thanksgiving table in the decent kitchen 
 with floor scrubbed white and open 
 hearth where crackled the fire-logs. The 
 low, small-paned windows gay with pot- 
 ted plants and the mountains standing 
 outside — like Eternity looking down 
 upon the little passing hour. 
 The lone farmhouse and the old cherry 
 tree and afterward the friends' "good- 
 
 75 
 
UNFOLDING 
 bye." The drive home with the simple 
 child seated beside, muffled in old coat, 
 and hat only half concealing the little 
 white face with its sweet and thoughtful 
 look upon it. 
 
 the memory of love, and all the hun- 
 ger of the heart, and the sky, and the 
 whiteness, and the space, and the two 
 uplifted visions of the mountains, far 
 away, melting into blue ether, like the 
 Spirit of Poetry hovering on the one 
 side, and the Spirit of Peace, on the 
 other side, of the lone farmhouse plain 
 and quiet upon its hill! 
 
 The Why November 27. The Poet yields up her- 
 self to the great contemplation — the 
 holding in her thought the vast concep- 
 tion of the universe. She sees worlds 
 upon worlds wheeling onward upon their 
 Eternal courses through infinite space. 
 With the Psalmist she exclaims: "When 
 
 1 consider thy heavens . . . what 
 is man that thou beholdest him, or the 
 son of man that thou shouldst consider 
 him?" She beholds the constitution and 
 nature of suns and worlds as vague con- 
 ceptions, some peopled with many kinds 
 of beings, animals, plants. She beholds 
 the human race, she sees her own destiny 
 in the light of eternity. She hears the 
 unfathomable yearning of the W/ir/. 
 
 76 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 November 28. Modern progress is not in- Modern 
 compatible with sentiment nor sentiment Progress and 
 with progress; on the contrary, the Sentiment 
 noblest sentiment is now more possible 
 than ever before, because there are wider 
 fields of activity on altruistic lines. 
 Sentiment does not consist of crude 
 schoolgirl musings. Real sentiment is 
 based on living facts; its source lies in 
 a wholesome, natural impulse of the 
 human heart. It is fine feeling expressed 
 in ideas and ready to pass over into moral 
 activitv — if there be need. It is the 
 opposite of sentimentality, which never 
 is ready to pass over into moral activity. 
 Real sentiment is ever accompanied by a 
 willingness to make a sacrifice in behalf 
 of its object. With sentimentality, on 
 the contrary, there is present a shrinking 
 from obligation; it merely poses as senti- 
 ment, making much of unrealities. 
 With modern progress new and wider 
 fields for thought and feeling are opening 
 for humanity. True poetic sentiment — 
 all real sentiment has poetry in it — must 
 be plastic and open to further develop- 
 ment. As knowledge increases, modern 
 progress calls for a new poetry of life — 
 a new, a purer, a larger sentiment; a 
 poetry which will include not man only, 
 as the sole monarch of the world, but 
 woman also as his co-equal in all future 
 
 77 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 Modern development; and not only the man and I 
 Progress and the woman blessed by the smiles of for- 
 Sentiment tune, but the poor and ignorant must be 
 received now on equal terms. 
 "By God! I will accept nothing which i 
 all can not have their counterpart of oni 
 the same terms," says Walt Whitman. 
 The doctrine of evolution in science, and 
 the principle of development in philoso- 
 phy, which embrace the grandest ideas 
 of modern thought, teach us to include 
 within the sphere of our meditative love 
 even our dumb servants, the animals; 
 nay, plant life itself, with its marvelous 
 beauty; aye, and the very stocks and 
 stones of earth call for love and recog- 
 nition; that man may no longer suppose 
 he inhabits a world of which he is sole 
 master, wherein to disport himself in 
 good humor or cruelty, as the passing 
 mood may so please him to do; but that 
 he shall become a reverent dweller in the 
 divine Temple of Life, wherein all is 
 sacred and shall be so regarded. 
 As science and philosophy lead the van 
 of progress, sentiment and poetry shall 
 progressively remould their forms, and 
 take their objects of contemplation and 
 of rhapsody from out the great store- 
 houses of assured and rational truth. 
 Swinburne and Whitman, one the singer 
 of human freedom, the other, the singer 
 
 78 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 of human comrade-love, would have been 
 impossible in the time of Homer, who, 
 according to the childish mode of con- 
 ception in his day and generation, re- 
 garded the mind as only a fainter copy, 
 a reflection of the body, and supposed 
 that a man's real self was destroyed with 
 the body, Homer thus makes the souls of 
 his heroes descend into the underworld 
 while they themselves are a prey for dogs 
 and birds. 
 
 The spirit of Romance, I concei^'2, need 
 not expire or lose its vitality under the 
 stress of modern progress, if only it be 
 plastic, if only it be tempered to the on- 
 ward march. The old spirit of Romance 
 which had its expression at any cost, is 
 now called on to recast its forms, to 
 recognize the necessity of the moral dis- 
 cipline of bringing the individual experi- 
 ence into its right relation as an element 
 in the organic unity of society and the 
 world of thought. And so shall the spirit 
 of Sentiment become purified and ex- 
 alted. 
 
 December 13. The sunrise is the festival Sunrise 
 of the Sky prepared by Nature for the 
 god's triumphal entrance on the day. 
 There is an overhanging arch from east 
 to west. It is of pale blue. In the east 
 there gathers a host of glittering armorial 
 
 79 
 
UNFOLDING 
 
 Sunrise knights. A few of the scattered cohorts 
 of the day are swiftly coming on the 
 wings of the winds. Others approach 
 with slow and measured pace. A red- 
 bird sings the morning hymn. The sol- 
 emn mountain, "clothed in purple and 
 fine linen," stands with uncovered head 
 reverentially. The Poet, too, stands and 
 adores, for now the god appears, "as a 
 giant to run his course," his head 
 crowned with the glorj' of the world. 
 
 80 
 
In Harmony 
 
 My uprisen thought of 
 
 good health and harmony hovers over 
 
 the physical part, leading the 
 
 stricken body as the Shekinah 
 
 irradiated the Ark of the 
 
 Covenant before the 
 
 Israelites. 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 January 2, 1893. There is, of late, a The World 
 strong tendency toward rest from all out- of the 
 ward activity and a call to turn inward; Still Things 
 a need to cease from study and to listen 
 quietly to the voice within the Soul; need 
 for a great deal of sleep, for a great many 
 hours in which to lie still, realizing con- 
 tact with silent Nature. O the time of 
 weakness, of convalescence! 
 the world of privation and to be 
 thrown in upon one's self; of looking to 
 the inward power alone to sustain and 
 cheer! The being alone in the World of 
 the Still Things — of distant sounds, of 
 birds' notes, of winds soughing in pine 
 trees, of mute sunshine, and silent shad- 
 ows, the Soul the only human alive. 
 The radiant figure of Hope, so long the 
 companion of the Soul upon the dark 
 road over which she has come, has de- 
 parted. The Soul is alone. It is the 
 season of waiting, of trusting, of faith. 
 
 83 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 The Common JANUARY 3. There is need, n(>w and then, 
 Nature for a time of rest in which to drink 
 deeply of the common Nature. All exist- 
 ence is simply the being of things. Take 
 away any particular thing by itself, 
 examine it, analyze it, reduce it to its 
 elements, reduce them again until you 
 can go no farther. You will find there is 
 only a simple being and a combination 
 for a certain purpose of uses; you will 
 see that the only persistent, the only en- 
 during is the common Nature. When I 
 rest I drink deeply of the common Nature. 
 I fall into the poetic mood. I listen to 
 distant sounds. I am touched by their 
 spiritual significance. I see how all 
 things vibrate with the common Nature. 
 The tiny cowbell's tone makes a note in 
 the great Symphony, as the caw of the 
 distant crow and the far-off shouts of the 
 boys. 
 
 The Pity of It January 4. It seems a pity, oh, the pity 
 of it! that no sooner do people arrive at 
 middle age — the time when they have 
 only just learned how to live, when they 
 have acquired some knowledge, some 
 wisdom, when heart and mind are ripe, 
 — than they lie down and die; many of 
 them instead of entering as they might 
 upon the richest period of life; the sea- 
 son when the soil of mind and heart is 
 
 84 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 ready to produce crops of usefulness and 
 happiness impossible before. Kant wrote 
 his three great critiques after fifty years 
 of age. See Mr. Gladstone, premier of 
 England at eighty-four, and Tennyson 
 writing poems up to the time of his 
 death at over eighty. It would appear 
 that these men were naturally so filled 
 with the divine life, although they, too, 
 held the divine spark instinctively, that 
 the inherited and associated instinct to 
 begin to fail at middle age, was post- 
 poned many years beyond the ordinary 
 term. 
 
 January 5. Is it not possible for self- Acquired 
 conscious power to replace the in- Youthfulness 
 stinctive? Heart and lungs expand, di- 
 gestion and assimilation take place moved 
 on by an automatic activity of the nervous 
 centers. Now let these vital functions 
 become the servants of the self-conscious 
 cerebral cortex. 
 
 From birth to "midway upon the journey 
 of our life" the fulness of vigor is in- 
 stinctive. Why may not power be ac- 
 quired to live youthfully after fifty years, 
 by self-conscious living — self-conscious 
 thought used for the purpose of acquir- 
 ing continued youthfulness of frame, 
 continued good health and activity far 
 beyond the period now set and generally 
 
 85 
 
IN HARMONY 
 recognized as the inevitable term of 
 active life. 
 
 It is already stated as a fact in science 
 that living organisms are formed slowly 
 by conscious effort. Each creature and 
 thing forms itself according to its need 
 and environment by virtue of its own 
 inherent power, which is, in fact, a part 
 of the power and purposes of the eternal 
 universe. 
 
 In his essay on Fate, Emerson has this 
 to say: "The Soul contains the event 
 that shall befall it; for the event is only 
 the actualization of its thoughts, and 
 what we pray to ourselves is always 
 granted. The event is the print of your 
 form. . . History is the action and re- 
 action of these two — nature and thought. 
 . . . Every solid in the universe is ready 
 to become fluid on the approach of mind, 
 and the power to flux it is the measure 
 of the mind." 
 
 The Day of January 6. In youth the Soul was dumb. 
 
 Knowledge She was without speech and without 
 knowledge. She was oppressed and 
 crushed into silence by the helplessness 
 of ignorance. True, an irresistible intui- 
 tion led her to oppose herself inwardly 
 to the teachings of her elders; yet she 
 knew nothing. She had no arguments 
 with which to assert and hold a new posi- 
 
 86 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 tion. She knew nothing, yet she believed The Bay of 
 that human slavery was wrong; that re- Knowledge 
 spect for class distinctions in society and 
 the privileged few was a crime against 
 humanity and that theological dogmas 
 were mere superstitions. 
 The young Soul was as one imprisoned 
 in a dungeon where she dreamed of free- 
 dom — freedom from the old forms of 
 thought and custom. The principles 
 taught her under those old forms were 
 those of truthfulness, justice and clean- 
 ness. For this she shall always rejoice 
 and feel thankful. 
 
 Now is arriving the day of knowledge, of 
 some speech and freedom when the Soul 
 may help spread the Gospel of Truth. 
 The early, helpless, dumb life, contrasted 
 with ripened maturity, is as the time 
 when the human race was as yet 
 struggling in its dumb, animal existence, 
 compared with the present period of a 
 great art and literature. A little space 
 yet of patience and may not the Soul step 
 forth, full-fledged and gloriously en- 
 dowed with a new life, a higher and a 
 grander youth — the self-conscious youth? 
 
 January 7. When vice-like pain clinches 
 the body and there is no interval of rest, 
 — when eyes are painful and refuse to 
 serve; when all heart seems to have died 
 
 87 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 The out of everything — then life is simply 
 Bed-Bird's an endurance; as it is with the wretched 
 Song criminal in his cell, when the hopeless- 
 ness of captivity overcomes him. Yet the 
 air is mild that comes in through the 
 open window and the heart hears the 
 red-bird's song outside. 
 
 A Vision of January 8. The thought of a grand Res- 
 tJie Sun ignation enters the Soul. There are 
 moments when she kisses the rod that 
 smites. In her darkest hour, when she 
 was prostrate in the dungeon, alone and 
 in pain, rejected and despised, like 
 Benvenuto Cellini in his dungeon she 
 prayed for a vision of the sun. Like him, 
 the Soul, too, was shown that vision, and 
 shall faith fail now? — the vision of the 
 sunrise of the day of self-conscious, 
 moral control over passion, the day of 
 virtue, the day of knowing, the day of 
 a grand faith, the day of a divine joy! 
 
 My Method JANUARY 9. The method I use in study- 
 of Study ing any subject or branch of knowledge 
 — which was naturally evolved and not 
 consciously adopted — is as follows: — 
 First there is the interest to supply the 
 motor power. I begin to gather facts 
 as I may have opportunity. As one puts 
 down stakes when laying off a new piece 
 of ground, so do I place in my mind my 
 first gathered facts relating to the sub- 
 
 88 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 ject in hand. They may be scattered, My Method 
 irregular and even seemingly opposed to of Study 
 each other, yet they serve as a beginning, 
 and I allow none to slip past me. I hold 
 the facts tentatively, not attempting any 
 judgment as yet. I continue reading on 
 the subject, and do not become impatient 
 if, at first, I fail fully to comprehend all 
 that I read, being aware that a good deal 
 of the subject will escape me because of 
 my unfamiliarity with it. I am not yet 
 prepared to grasp the full meaning of all, 
 so take hold of only so much as I can 
 hold to. Then I begin filling in between 
 the stakes first laid down, frequently re- 
 arranging, as I find myself able to place 
 any facts in better order and properer 
 relations to each other. This con- 
 tinues until something like a general 
 concept is formed. I am then able to 
 move forward more rapidly and under- 
 standingly; learning all the time to get 
 and keep my bearings more and more 
 clearly. Finally, when I have attained a 
 tolerably good grasp and comprehensive 
 view of the subject, I feel prepared to 
 scrutinize every statement made, allow- 
 ing nothing to pass by without a clear 
 understanding of it, often going back 
 over the ground, examining and compar- 
 ing in the light of enlarged acquisitions. 
 I often transpose and reconstruct a 
 
 89 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 sentence for the purpose of trying to find 
 the meaning of it more perfectly. 
 I hold tentatively the opinion and judg- 
 ments of any one author, passing on to 
 another who may offer an opposing opin- 
 ion, or present a different point of view. 
 After having thus examined many difiter- 
 ent views on the same subject I then pro- 
 ceed to conciliate one with the other, 
 perhaps casting out certain opinions alto- 
 gether and when such introduction may 
 be allowable introducing in their stead 
 views of my own to make out a satis- 
 factory solution of any problem, or to 
 complete a systematic view of the sub- 
 ject; often, as in philosophy, when it is 
 difficult to hold the attention closely, I 
 shut my eyes and repeat sentence after 
 sentence, until I receive the meaning 
 clearly in my mind. 
 To the January 12. O Plum Tree! Thou didst 
 Plum Tree j^ear the fairest fruit and sweet to the 
 taste in the summer season. Thou dost 
 now stand, patient and trustful, through 
 the darkness and the cold of the winter 
 season. 
 
 O teach me thy patience and thy trust! 
 O the patience and the silent trust of all 
 vegetation! 
 
 January 13. All sounds which are dis- 
 tant enough to become poetical are dear 
 
 90 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 to tbe poet. He loves the sound of the 
 woodman's axe; the humming bee on the 
 wing; the shouts of school children; the 
 song of the wagoner as he passes by, 
 drawn by his patient beasts; the chat- 
 tering of the sparrows; the reedy, flute- 
 tones of little cedar birds; the buzz of 
 passing insect; even the prosaic crow of 
 the cock- fowl; the lowered speech-tunes 
 of the farmer to his horses as they turn 
 the corner on the street, "Woa-haw;" the 
 light-hearted whistle of the young man as 
 he passes by. 
 
 February 13. I am very weary and must 
 rest again from my studies. I will lie 
 down and watch the solemn procession 
 of the clouds, to receive refreshment 
 from contemplation of Nature, to be filled 
 again with that divine wine and essence 
 of life which I have used up, until now 
 I am empty and need to go to the wells 
 to draw and drink my fill. 
 
 February 19. One happy moment came 
 to the Soul this morning. The birds were 
 singing as though it were spring. A red- 
 bird sat in the boughs of a near locust 
 tree, whistling some sweet, sad, happy 
 note. The Soul rejoiced in his tune and 
 in the mild, tissuey sunlight, and the 
 warm air, and the rushing voice of the 
 snow-swollen stream. 
 
 Sounds 
 to the Poet 
 
 The Solemn 
 Procession of 
 the Clouds 
 
 One Happy 
 
 Moment 
 
 91 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 As the Thread March 3. I see it stated by the high caste 
 Through a Brahmin, Swami Vivekananda, that, "The 
 String Lord has declared to the Hindu, in his 
 of Pearls incarnation of Krishna, 'I am in every 
 religion as the thread through a string of 
 pearls.' " I was surprised because of the 
 similarity of my own thought already ex- 
 pressed in this journal where I said, "In 
 the impelling struggle for truth and right 
 in the world divine love is concealed like 
 a thread upon which are strung, like 
 beads, the thoughts of men. Few are 
 crystal-pure enough to irradiate the light 
 of the divine thread within. If they be, 
 then that is truth, but most are dull and 
 black and they be the false beliefs of 
 men." 
 
 The Mystic March 5. Spring — that dreamy, sug- 
 
 Power gestive season has come. I hear her low, 
 
 of Spring murmuring voice, of a "thousand blended 
 
 notes," coming out of the depths of earth 
 
 and sky. I feel her mystic power. 
 
 Oiily One of March 9. The question is now ferment- 
 the Gleaners ing and struggling for a final answer — 
 What shall be the life work of the Soul, 
 in the great human hive? She has never 
 had any work; work that earns money, 
 or is regular and compulsory. Aspiration 
 has assumed many forms, poetry and 
 music are the chief. It is clear now that 
 she possesses not one talent. She is only 
 
 92 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 a dreamer. On that foundation or with- 
 out any foundation at all, except that 
 which was given by Nature herself, she 
 shall perforce live and act. "The leopard 
 can not change his spots, nor the Ethi- 
 opian his skin." Knowledge, culture — 
 these are the outlines to follow, and to 
 jot down, as she may be able to catch 
 some fleeting forms and colors in her 
 dreams, so that some good word — Oh, 
 may the word be good! — may be left for 
 others when the Soul has gone hence, 
 to be no more seen; also, to do all the 
 good she can along the pathway as she 
 goes, even to the least act of justice and 
 mercy. She is not appointed by Nature 
 to plough, sow or reap in the great har- 
 vest fields of the world, where the strong 
 laborers are at work, but is appointed, in 
 the divine Order, as only one of the 
 gleaners who may gather the grain that 
 has been dropped and fallen by the way- 
 side. 
 
 March 21. A cloudy morning — so is the imprisonment 
 inner world of the Soul. She has been 
 imprisoned for years. Some are im- 
 prisoned for life. 
 
 March 24. The clouds are abroad — a Philosophy 
 frowning world to face. Yesterday I 
 finished the first volume of Caird's Crit- 
 ical Philosophy of Kant. I inscribed 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 upon the last leaf of the book these 
 words: "Philosophy is the Revelation of 
 God in the intellect." 
 
 The Cry April 11. The fires of purgatory are 
 of Dives purging body and soul — burning the 
 dross to leave the pure gold. 
 Yesterday snow fell all day. In anguish 
 the Soul cried out, like another Dives in 
 hell, that the cold snowflakes might fall 
 upon her inward fires. 
 
 Philosophy Is April 12. The Soul yearns for that which 
 Homesickness abides. She is heartsick of the infideli- 
 ties of life. This longing lies at the root 
 of her love for philosophy. It is the one 
 need of the Soul — to find the permanent. 
 Novalis says that philosophy is home- 
 sickness. 
 
 In a May 7. Last night during the storm the 
 Thunderstorm Soul was alone in the cottage. She shrank 
 in terror from the lightning and thunder. 
 She recollected an account she had read 
 of the awful tidal wave that destroyed 
 Lost Island, on the coast of Mississippi, 
 and all its inhabitants, save one negress 
 and a little child. 
 
 She remembered, too, what Heine said, 
 how philosophy had made him feel like 
 a god, and afterwards how he felt him- 
 self shrivel to the insignificant dimen- 
 sions of a helpless human being where 
 he lay upon his "mattress grave." 
 
 94 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 The Soul, too, believes that thought is 
 god-force. She, too, feels that there lives 
 within her an invincible power; yet, as 
 she lay in her bed, unable to walk, or 
 even to sit up, cowering in terror from 
 the cannonading of the skies, her hands 
 covering her eyes, her fingers closing the 
 avenues to the sensitive organs of hear- 
 ing that the delicacy of these conductors 
 to the heart be not too heavily jarred, she 
 almost laughed aloud as she said to her- 
 self: "Another god, as poor Heine thought 
 himself, and another shrinkage to pitiful 
 human estate. A god indeed! Skulking 
 in terror from the sound of his own 
 thunder!" 
 
 May 12. The Divine Doors are open — The 
 such beneficent, joyous Nature! The J^ivme Boors 
 Soul's Doors are open. She longs to em- 
 brace her Friend with boundless love and 
 confidence. Is Nature at times so rav- 
 ishingly beautiful, so divinely tender, 
 because she would put aside all the 
 wretchedness, all the wrong-doing of her 
 children and take them to her bosom 
 without conditions? Is such a day as 
 today one of those rapturous moments 
 when the universe throbs with infinite 
 love toward every creature? 
 In such moments. Nature would clasp her 
 erring children to her bosom, forgiving 
 
 95 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 all their crimes against her. Such a day 
 is her coronation day, to be celebrated I 
 by opening every prison, by breaking! 
 every chain, by giving to all her uni- 
 versal love and mercy. 
 Are we in the presence of God and do not 
 know it? 
 
 Under May 13. The cup of poetry is offered 
 the Sicy me for drink. I thankfully partake of 
 this fine wine of life. 
 The dove's tender voice will not allow 
 me to study philosophy. The Poet swims 
 in the seas of music, beauty and poetry.* 
 The sun shines gently upon her, send- 
 ing his rays through fluttering, dancing 
 leaves — spring leaves, fresh and young. 
 The sky is of a pale, tender blue. The 
 birds are hopping about and with their 
 songs the air is in continuous musical 
 vibration. In the midst of this sparkling 
 gaiety the dark pine trees stand like 
 solemn thoughts. 
 
 And there is the little rick of new-mown 
 hay beneath the pines, and the shadows 
 playing on it. 
 
 All Nature is companionable — the rays of 
 the sun together, the little leaves together, 
 the birds, the playing shadows, and the 
 dove breathing out her love-note to her 
 mate. 
 But the Soul is alone. 
 
 96 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 And now the little clouds appear, where 
 before there was nothing, only the blue 
 sky. They come into life like spirits 
 emerging from the Infinite. 
 From out the Unknown will someone 
 come to the Soul? 
 
 May 14. The Soul now passes into the 
 self-conscious life — the world of self- 
 knowledge, of disciplined will, of vic- 
 tory. Into the youth of the self-conscious 
 life, out from the world of instinct, pas- 
 sion and ignorance — ^the world of decay, 
 defeat and death. 
 
 The Soul shall now stand alone, self- 
 poised. She will trust and wait. 
 She stands in the presence of God and 
 beholds the revelation of Life. She uses 
 divine powers and knows she uses them. 
 She will remain silent and abide her 
 time, knowing that all shall be fulfilled 
 in due order. 
 
 The days of her apprenticeship are over. 
 She enters upon the mastery of life. 
 
 May 20. At times the Soul, for whom all 
 things were made; for whom exist new 
 and unknow^n worlds only that she may 
 conquer them, is god-like, possessing all 
 things. 
 
 Again, and the Soul appears but as a "for- 
 tuitous aggregation of sensations" sus- 
 pended in infinite space by unseen and 
 
 97 
 
 Entering 
 Upon the 
 Mastery 
 of Life 
 
IN HARMONY 
 unknown forces. The threads may break 
 at any moment, precipitating the Soul 
 into the Abysm of Nothingness. She is 
 the mere creature and toy of the uni- 
 verse, in which, in fact, she holds no per- 
 manent place. She is but an apparition, 
 a bubble of froth, seen for one moment 
 on the bosom of the Deep, the next, gone 
 forever; a speck of vapor on the Sky of 
 Vastness to dissipate as soon as seen. 
 Does this intense and never-silent yearn- 
 ing for permanence — the voice of Philos- 
 ophy in the Soul — bear within it no seed 
 of promise of the knowledge of what 
 things really are? Philosophy gives me 
 an affirmative answer. The Soul is cre- 
 ative. The Soul is divine. The Ideas of 
 Reason reach, like fair marble columns, 
 up from man to God! 
 
 Co-operation May 21. Co-operation is the law of life. 
 "All things work together for good to 
 them who love God." These are they 
 who love the law of the universe; who 
 fall into line with Nature; who become 
 obedient to the great Mother's teachings. 
 Thus sang the Rishis of the Veda: 
 "Thou art our Father. Thou art our 
 Mother. Thou art our loved Friend. 
 "Thou art He who bearest the burdens of 
 the universe. Help us to bear the bur- 
 den of this little life!" 
 
 98 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 It is co-operation among the molecules 
 that magnetizes the iron — each molecule 
 moving onward in the same direction. 
 The Soul shall become adaptable. She 
 will co-operate with the universe in 
 which she finds herself. 
 Powell, in that noble book, "Our Hered- 
 ity from God," declares that the human- 
 ity of the future — the ideal man and 
 woman — will be they who have learned 
 to adapt themselves to any environment, 
 by overcoming its antagonisms; they 
 who in wisdom shall find that all things 
 subserve the good and wise. 
 The Soul will then search out the will of 
 her great Mother, who has her now as 
 clay, and is moulding and shaping her. 
 All things else vanish before the neces- 
 sity of this supreme work of developing 
 the powers of the Soul. 
 The Soul shall be like unto an instru- 
 ment, well strung and attuned for the 
 great symphony of Immortality. O to 
 give out a pure tone when Thy hand 
 shall sweep the strings! 
 
 May 22. Life is a continuous Revelation. Heaven 
 John in Patmos held no monopoly. The Here and Now 
 Soul, as did he, bathes and swims in the 
 Eternal Thought. She shall have indi- 
 viduality in proportion as she uses and 
 develops the power of infinite Nature 
 
 99 
 
IN HARMONS 
 
 which flows through her. There is no 
 need to wait for another life to enter 
 into heaven; she will enter into heaven 
 here and now, by realizing the divine in 
 herself. Jesus saw this truth when he 
 said : "The Kingdom of Heaven is within 
 you." 
 
 Despair the May 27. The hardest to bear is not the 
 Tempter in hour of bitterest agony, when every pulse 
 the Desert beats with fury; when the entire con- 
 sciousness is awake with extraordinary 
 sensitiveness; when every fibre is strained 
 to the utmost; when all the forces of life 
 are in a raging tempest around you, and 
 soul and body seem on the eve of break- 
 ing, as bones and sinews break on the 
 wheel of torture: but it is when, long 
 after the storm is over, and the fair image 
 of Hope fades before your straining eyes, 
 and the first enthusiasm of friends' and 
 neighbors' sweet charity for you has 
 faded away also, and you lie alone with 
 only the monotonous, dull, voiceless pain 
 to bear. Then it is that Despair comes to 
 tempt you in the desert. 
 
 Ladye June 9. It is the day of the inner con- 
 Spiritual Ai^t in the moral life — a silent battle, but 
 a struggle to the death. 
 Thy choice is made, O Soul! Thou shall 
 follow the leadings of thy deepest nature. 
 Thy chosen path lies through a lonely 
 
 100 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 land — the development of the highest 
 irrespective of self-interest or sensuous 
 pleasure. The people of thy class find 
 thee not companionable. They "pass thee 
 by on the other side." The wounds they 
 give they bind not up again with oil and 
 the balm of Gilead. It may not be other- 
 wise. Thou shall not ask that others give 
 to thee. Thou shalt give to others. In 
 the old Anglo-Saxon tongue "Ladye" 
 means Loaf-giver — one who of her abun- 
 dance gives away to those who lack. See 
 to it that thou be Ladye Spiritual, and of 
 thy store give freely to the poor. 
 
 June 10. A moment in the Eternal Now. 
 Life as we know it is but a moment in 
 the "Eternal Now." The hour of the 
 Soul's suffering is but a lesser moment in 
 that Moment. Her season of pain and 
 restraint is long and tedious only in the 
 seeming. 
 
 June 11. Truth is not cheap. There is 
 need that the Soul learn the facts of life 
 in due order. With the untutored eye all 
 is seen at a glance. With the scholar it 
 is not so. With him there is perforce 
 innumerable watchings. Steady, long 
 and frequent must be the penetrating 
 glance of the scholar — the watching, 
 the seeing, the waiting, the thinking, the 
 loving of a lifetime. Shall not the Soul 
 
 A Moment 
 in the 
 Eternal Now 
 
 Truth Is 
 Not Cheap 
 
 101 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 desire to attain scholarship in the life 
 spiritual? 
 Metaphysic June 12. Metaphysic is the physiology of 
 intellect, the chemistry of mind. 
 
 Woman June 13. I was talking on the subject 
 Sufrage of woman suffrage to a man who is op- 
 posed to it. The point he made was that 
 to give woman the ballot would be to in- 
 troduce into politics an "irresponsible 
 element." 
 
 An irresponsible element! I was shocked 
 to hear pronounced such an estimate of 
 woman by man. If this is a fair repre- 
 sentative view held by the male sex, no 
 wonder that woman is politically classed 
 with infants, idiots and madmen! In the 
 light of such a verdict how do the Sap- 
 phos, the Hypatias, the Joan of Arcs, the 
 Queen Elizabeths, the George Eliots ap- 
 pear? Or indeed that countless host 
 of intelligent, educated, conscientious 
 women who hold the destinies of the 
 race in their keeping? Is such a light a 
 true light? Is such a verdict a just ver- 
 dict from the man-world to his sister 
 woman-world? 
 
 Viewing woman merely in respect of her 
 relations to man and as nothing outside 
 of those relations, is such a verdict just? 
 Woman as man's mother, wife, sister, 
 friend — shall she be regarded as an irre- 
 
 102 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 sponsible being? To hold her as respon- 
 sible in these relations, and as irrespon- 
 sible (that is, without the sense of moral 
 responsibility) in other relations, would 
 be irrational. Think of any irrespon- 
 sible mother, an irresponsible wife! Does 
 a man never consult his mother or his 
 wife on matters of serious import? Does 
 he, then, entrust the education and form- 
 ing of the moral character of his sons to 
 an irresponsible being? Does a man hold 
 his wife irresponsible in the matter of 
 the sex relation? Have God and Nature 
 placed the stamp of irresponsibility upon 
 woman by making her the mother of the 
 race? What is the testimony of history? 
 Of science? Has she not been the leader 
 of armies, the political ruler, the poet, 
 the saint, the priestess? And now biology 
 comes forward to crown her with prior- 
 ity in the grand march of evolution. 
 
 June 23. The question to be settled is The Brute Law 
 to reconcile the brute law of "Might is Versus the 
 right," with the higher law of renuncia- Higher Law 
 tion; to ascertain how far the first may 
 be justified as a working basis for con- 
 duct, and at what point we ought to de- 
 part from it and pass over to the higher 
 law. 
 
 The brute law rules in the vegetable and 
 animal worlds, as also in almost the 
 
 103 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 whole of the human world. Is it a stage 
 in development, and a necessary stage, 
 and as such to be tolerated? Or should 
 the higher law be taught at once to all 
 under all circumstances? 
 Is the higher law workable among the 
 poor and ignorant, the money-makers, 
 and wealth-producers? If not, ought the 
 higher law to be taught until these vari- 
 ous classes shall become eliminated from 
 society? Might not the wealth needed 
 for civilization be produced by co- 
 operative methods which would not con- 
 flict with the higher law? 
 
 Creative Love June 24. I remember hearing a certain 
 Versus War lecture on philosophy. The lecturer 
 and Plunder stated that the universe owes its exist- 
 ence to spontaneous activity of creative 
 Love. 
 
 If this be so, shall we who have arrived 
 at the self-conscious life — the nearest to 
 god-life we know of — shall we continue 
 to tear and rend each other, as in wars 
 between peoples, and to devour our con- 
 scious fellow-beings as the flesh-eaters 
 do? The microbe, the lowest in the scale 
 of existence, devours his fellow-creatures 
 — the microbe and the tiger and the 
 hyena, who have not arrived at the stage 
 of a likeness to the Divine at which man 
 is arriving in the self-conscious life. 
 
 104 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 The few, the "Saving remnant," desire to Creative Love 
 "do justly and to love mercy" and to ex- Versus War 
 tend this law to their fellow-man, as also niul Plunder 
 to their other fellow-creatures the ani- 
 mals, and the birds, and the fishes, and 
 all sentient creatures; not taking the 
 sweetness out of that life by selfish exac- 
 tion or selfish indifference, nor by taking 
 that life itself — the outcome of spontane- 
 ous divine joy — which life they cannot 
 give and to which we see that we hold 
 no title, when we enter into the self- 
 conscious life — the life that knows and 
 knows that it knows; the life which re- 
 flects upon its own divinity. 
 It is said of Jesus that to all who received 
 him he gave the power to become the 
 Sons of God. This means that Jesus saw 
 that they who receive the truths which 
 he taught — the truths of the brotherhood 
 of man and the fatherhood of God — do 
 become, in spirit, the Sons of God. 
 Jesus saw that man is divine. He de- 
 clared that the kingdom of heaven is in 
 the soul itself. If, then, man is divine 
 and possesses heaven within him why 
 not acknowledge this divine nature and 
 act upon it? 
 
 The highest thought must reach out in 
 ever}^ direction by virtue of its power, as 
 light radiates from the sun filling all 
 space. The moral insight of philosophy 
 
 105 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 is the deepest secret of life; it consists 
 of rational, disciplined sympathy. It is 
 the key to the divine outreach of Jesus' 
 thought and activity — of Buddha's, of 
 Socrates. 
 The Life June 29. The life of the Soul is like the 
 oftheSotil surface of the globe. There are broad 
 Like the Glole continents with here and there great 
 in Variety cities of the mind and heart. There are 
 serene lakes, happy valleys, dark forests 
 filled with savage beasts and birds of 
 prey, gloomy volcanos burning and burst- 
 ing with woe. There are mighty rivers 
 and laughing streams, lofty mountains, 
 austere and remote, touching heaven. 
 The Soul passes now over the great Sa- 
 hara Desert. There is no friend, no com- 
 panion, no familiar; arid sands only. 
 On the edge of the far horizon she can 
 scarcely discern a few dark specks. They 
 are the palm trees which she has been 
 forced to leave behind. Beautiful and 
 erect they stand, but lost to her. Memory's 
 mocking mirage alone is here reflecting 
 happy days of other lands. 
 
 The Crushed July 3. The Lonely Human Soul has the 
 Herb's eye for celestial sight, the ear for celes- 
 Fragrance tial music; else how could she bear the 
 Hour of pain and lonely sorrow? Often 
 when helpless misery threatens to over- 
 whelm her, all the pain, the loneliness 
 
 106 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 and the sorrow are gently withdrawn, 
 and in their place appear the smiling 
 joys of heaven, in tint and form of cloud, 
 in song of bird, in the sweet silences of 
 trees. As the crushed herb gives up its 
 inmost fragrance, so the heart when most 
 deeply bruised awakens to the finest 
 thought. 
 
 In her most unhappy moments the Soul 
 then sees with clearest vision the incom- 
 parable beauty of Nature, that extreme, 
 tender beauty and deep peace which 
 adorns each bud and flower, leaf and 
 stalk, branch and trunk, bird and cloud, 
 form and color, scent and tone. 
 "'Tis whispered balm, 
 'Tis sunshine spoken." 
 As though the very anguish of the spirit 
 moved to sweet charity the bosom of the 
 great Mother. 
 
 July 5. There is a bird with a poem in The Bird 
 his heart that comes at rare intervals to with a 
 visit me. He has never permitted me to Poet's Heart 
 see him, only to listen to his violincello 
 tones which breathe out enthusiasm, pas- 
 sion and despair. It is the spirit of 
 Mignon. 
 
 July 6. I am in the midst of a throng 
 of lovely beings — flowers plucked and 
 brought to my bedside, honeysuckles, 
 sweet peas, larkspur, marigolds, black- 
 
 107 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 The Flowers' eyed Susans, field-daisies. The scent of 
 Death-Song the flower betrays the nature of the Soul, 
 as Swedenborg declared the spirit of man 
 exhales its sweet or foul odor as thought 
 is pure or indecent. When the living 
 smell departs, the soul of the flower has 
 fled to the paradise of its mortality. 
 
 The Inner July 7. The way the Soul has ever come 
 Voice to say anything that may be worth read- 
 ing is this: She lies still and drifts 
 naturally into the contemplative mood, 
 when suddenly and without effort the 
 inner Voice begins to speak. 
 
 The July 8. I am arriving at that point 
 Empyrean when material nature is not sufficient. 
 of Ideas I move in the world of thought far more 
 than in the world of observation. When 
 ideas cease to flow, then life seems dull 
 and worthless. There is need to spread 
 the wings of the Soul for yet a higher 
 mount into the Empyrean of Ideas. 
 Visible and audible nature becomes a 
 mere perch from which to start on the 
 winged flight upward and out and be- 
 yond. I wish my thought to feed others 
 as great writers' thoughts feed me. 
 
 July 9. When the Soul awakens in the 
 morning, life appears unreal and dream- 
 like. It is a daily rite that necessity im- 
 poses upon her of re-identifying herself 
 for the new day; a recalling of what she 
 
 108 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 was yesterday, a restating of personal When Life 
 relations to people and things. Only as Appears 
 the day advances does the Soul stand on Unreal 
 firmer ground, where experience and 
 things become real. Especially does a 
 state of suffering and unhappiness ap- 
 pear strange and dreamlike. When the 
 Soul is happy and at peace, then life be- 
 comes a reality. Most of the life of the 
 Soul, then, has appeared as a dream from 
 which she has awakened occasionally to 
 the happy reality. Dreams during sleep 
 often appear more real than her waking 
 life. 
 
 July 10. I have seen it stated that Madame 
 Madame de Stael said of herself that de Stael 
 none of her faculties had ever been fully 
 developed save only the faculty of suf- 
 fering. 
 
 July 11. Do you know what it is to The Poetry 
 
 realize the poetry of life — to know how of Life 
 
 the vision often lifts the present burden 
 
 of pain? You see j^ourself as you may 
 
 see the image of a person in a vision, 
 
 in a magic mirror, a character in a book, 
 
 a figure in a great painting. You see 
 
 that which is to come — the future — as 
 
 you see that which has been — the past. 
 
 Poetry lifts you up out of the present 
 
 prosaic ennui. Your step quickens. 
 
 Your eye brightens. Your spirit is 
 
 109 
 
IN HARMONY 
 buoyed up. What is it? Wherefore? 
 You see the ships, far out on the horizon, 
 coming full sail, with joy, for you! 
 You are no longer bounded by the com- 
 monplace facts about you. You have 
 leapt over them. You have entered the 
 world of the illimitable. The actual is 
 limited, says Victor Hugo, the possible is 
 immense. Poetry carries you up into the 
 world of the possible. 
 
 Poetry July 12. Poetry makes rich. The poet 
 Makes Bich owns the wealth of all the world. He 
 is life's millionaire. The poet sees the 
 young man, lately wedded, going to his 
 day's work in the journeyman's dress, 
 his implements across his shoulders, 
 singing, as he walks with swinging step. 
 All the sweet happiness lying hidden in 
 his heart belongs to the poet also, and 
 the poet is happy with his happiness, 
 and w^ith him sings the song of joy. 
 
 The Cost July 14. The world is of divine sub- 
 of the stance. The agony and the pain are 
 Eight Boad proof that it is tremendously worth 
 while to be in harmony with Eternal 
 Nature. Go against Nature and anguish 
 and tears proclaim from the house-tops 
 that the right road is lost and shall be 
 found only at every cost. Groans and 
 tears purify the world, turning the Soul 
 back into the right road. Quoth Saint 
 
 110 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 Anthony: "The soul that is built up in 
 virtue must be built up in tears." "Steep 
 and craggy is the path of the gods," said 
 Porphyry. 
 
 July 15. The seed in the Soul needs The Beautiful 
 the right soil — as the grain-seed in the Tree of Poetry 
 earth — before the beautiful tree of poetry 
 may spring forth to spread its sheltering 
 branches, to give its pleasant shade, to 
 flower, to bear its fruit of beauty and 
 inner joy. If the soil be not ripe, vain 
 are the hopes and wishes to see the tree 
 spring forth in mind of friend, brother, 
 sister, child. 
 
 I see people with faces sad and weary. 
 No joy, no inner well-springs of sweet 
 waters. Maras only; at best with the 
 pallid hopes of the churches playing 
 upon their bloodless faces — of a reward 
 hereafter for belief in this world in cer- 
 tain doctrines, and not because of moral 
 living and purity of thought. I long to 
 give those sad lives some sweetness now, 
 of the life lived here beneath this 
 pleasant Shade Tree, where food for the 
 soul is never lacking, nor distilled juices 
 of her fairest fruits to slake the spirit- 
 thirst. I may nourish and water but 
 can not plant. "Poets are born, not 
 made." Nature, that just and bountiful 
 Mother, puts the little seed in all. In few 
 
 111 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 The Beautiful souls is found the rich soil in which the 
 Tree of Poetry seed may grow — the seed that lies deep 
 beneath the accumulated rubbish of the 
 opinions of ages, so that it can not reach 
 the sunshine of truth in which to grow. 
 It perishes unseen and unknown in dark- 
 ness below, and the starved soul feeds 
 upon the "husks of old, dead opinion, wan 
 and wasted for lack of joy and beauty, 
 little dreaming of the divine seed hidden 
 within. In some rare souls the pile of 
 rubbish does not accumulate, so clean, 
 so pure, so childlike are they. They do 
 not take on the conventions, the lifeless 
 customs of beliefs. The seed springs 
 forth. The tree grows apace. The Soul 
 can say with Confucius: "With a few 
 grains of rice, a cup of cold water, and 
 my bended arm for a pillow, I still know 
 joy." 
 
 The people go hungry and thirsty along 
 the road of life, sweating and sinking be- 
 neath the scorching rays of the sun and 
 over the arid desert sands; not heeding 
 the little seed within them, which could 
 bring forth the beautiful Tree of Poetry 
 to refresh their weary souls. They have 
 closed their ears and hear not the voice 
 of Nature calling to them: "Toil not 
 neither spin the warp and woof of false 
 beliefs. Open your eyes. Behold the 
 divine presence of Life now. Postpone 
 
 112 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 not that Beatific Vision to some uncer- 
 tain, ghostly day of Hereafter. Know ye 
 not, O ye of little faith, that your 
 Heavenly Father knoweth ye have need 
 of these things?" 
 
 The beautiful Tree of Poetry shelters 
 from the arid sands and the scorching 
 heat on the great, dusty road of life. 
 You bear the tiny seed within you. Let 
 it grow. 
 
 July 24. In music the Soul catches hold Music 
 of something from out the abysm of the 
 Infinite. It is touched, only to be lost 
 in the same instant. The Soul seeks 
 in despair for that tone, for that ex- 
 quisite thrill of love, for that one flash 
 of light which came and was not, which 
 possessed her being 3et which had no 
 tangible existence. Music is the contact 
 of the Soul with God. 
 
 July 25. I had thought I knew some i Knoiv Only 
 philosophy. I find I know only my My Ignorance 
 ignorance. Even this is a far step on 
 the way and the first real gain towards 
 proceeding further. Few know their 
 ignorance. 
 
 July 26. What a wonderful work — that 
 of building up a Self or world of beauti- 
 ful thoughts and ideas! The bird sings. 
 Its tones convey to me ideas of spiritual 
 beauty and purity. 
 
 113 
 
Inspiration 
 
 and 
 
 Purposive 
 
 Action 
 
 Mediocrity 
 and Genius 
 
 Sons of God 
 
 IN HARMONY 
 
 Let the great reservoir of the Self be 
 ever kept open to the highest aspiration, 
 even open to receive the impossible. But 
 when any particular work is to be under- 
 taken, then look well about. Know 
 surely just what are your materials, that 
 your present acquirements are sufficient 
 for achievement. Then draw within 
 your limits and work. 
 
 July 27. The difference between medi- 
 ocrity and genius is that the former lives 
 and acts by instincts and conventions, 
 while genius lives and acts by intellect 
 and imagination. 
 
 July 28. To be a god one need not be 
 a supreme god. A god is a being pos- 
 sessed of divine powers. Man is such 
 a god. All his power is god-power. 
 Does he not mount up into heaven when 
 he puts the sun in his science-scales and 
 marks down the weight thereof? Or 
 when he travels into space and tallies 
 the nebulae, outreaching beyond the 
 Milky Way — that highroad of life, whose 
 very dust is composed of countless 
 galaxies of suns — ? yet does he take his 
 evening and morning stroll far out be- 
 yond that infinite Rim of Being. 
 Man is a god when he brings forth the 
 hidden energies of nature compelling 
 them to fetch and carry for him as his 
 
 114 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 slaves. Man is a god when he reads the Sons of God 
 Hieroglyphic Book of Truth, in his own 
 higher reason and in his heart. It is 
 then he ascends to Olympus and sees 
 God, his Father, face to face, in sacred 
 kinship in the moral Ideal. Above all 
 is he a god when he ceases to desire 
 vengeance and forgives those who have 
 wronged him; when he knows and loves 
 the law and recognizes mercy as the 
 higher justice. 
 
 To be a god man need not be such a 
 being as Heine supposed that Hegel 
 claimed him to be; that is, one who can 
 have external and mechanical control 
 over all things in heaven and earth; one 
 who can perform miracles in the old 
 dogmatic sense; which indeed is a vul- 
 gar interpretation to give to the act or 
 event called a miracle. Man, to me, is 
 a god in a far better and higher sense 
 than that. Jesus saw that man is a god. 
 He declared that men would do greater 
 works than he; that men are the sons 
 of God. If a human being has a son, is 
 not the son a human being? If God have 
 sons, are they not gods, by nature and 
 inheritance? 
 
 August 3. It is the poem of her own 
 life that engages the attention of the 
 Soul and absorbs her reflection. As 
 
 115 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 The Poem of novelists and poets write of the lives of 
 
 My Own Life imaginary persons, so does the Soul write 
 
 of her own life. Most persons are 
 
 myopic and can not see, for the nearness, 
 
 the poetry of their own lives. 
 
 Genius Makes August 4. It is the thought that sur- 
 
 a New Era rounds us which makes us what we are. 
 
 Genius alone rises above the common 
 
 thought and makes a new era for the 
 
 people. 
 
 Memories August 7. Voices divine of string and 
 horn — the aspiration of the dominant, 
 the home-returning tones of the tonic! 
 The heaven-high tones in the lights and 
 tints of Nature, and her deep heart-tones 
 in colors and shadow! 
 The mountains! and the summer sun 
 gently sinking beyond the ridge. The 
 little grasshopper's summer song and the 
 dirge song of my heart — no more to hear 
 the footsteps I love coming up to me 
 from the old Home abandoned, now a 
 wilderness — to me, sitting alone in my 
 cottage — and the mountains echoing 
 voices divine of string and horn, and 
 the dirge song of my heart echoing the 
 music of the past! 
 
 August 8. It is the stern principles of 
 philosophy which have prevented the 
 Soul from sinking into despair. They 
 are the silent voices which sound in the 
 
 116 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 Soul forever, forbidding her to falter. The Cheering 
 She would have died long ago, had it Principles of 
 not been for these inner voices. In lone- Philosaphy 
 liness, shame, humiliation, neglect, pain, 
 weakness, darkness and silence of years, 
 they have sustained and upheld her. 
 They illuminate the silence and the dark- 
 ness of her prison. They have softened 
 and consoled the dreary length of soli- 
 tary days. They have pointed to the way 
 out of misery. They have cheered, up- 
 held and encouraged her sinking foot- 
 steps. They have spoken to her when 
 there was no human voice to speak. 
 They have unraveled the tangled thought 
 when all was perplexity. They have 
 been the pillar of fire by night and the 
 pillar of cloud by day, as the Soul has 
 wandered, lost, in the wilderness these 
 "forty days" of her hundred months. 
 
 August 9. Religion believes in God. Philosophy 
 Philosophy explains God. Agnosticism Versus 
 is no philosophy at all. Philosophy is an Agnosticism 
 affirmation but Agnosticism is a nega- 
 tion. The aim of philosophy is to ex- 
 plain the universe. Agnosticism denies 
 that there can be any explanation. 
 August 10. A person of genius is like A Person 
 the sun. Swift is the circulation of his of Genius 
 thought. He is made up of forces that 
 culminate in C3^clones and hurricanes. 
 
 117 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 Do not approach too near. You are liable 
 to be scorched and burned. At a safe 
 distance he becomes a beneficent power 
 giving light to all who turn their faces 
 toward him — a bright star of beauty, in- 
 spiration and love. 
 
 Four Moments August 11. There are four moments of 
 of Life life in which Happiness has appeared 
 to the Soul: When Philosophy has 
 opened the sanctuary and elevated the 
 host of Truth; when Poetry has lighted 
 her altar with stars; when the eyes of 
 Sorrow have been lifted in gratitude; 
 when the voice of Love has spoken its 
 benediction. 
 
 A Drive in August 12. There they are the sweet 
 the Mountains fields — some painted brown, some gray, 
 some purpled o'er with little weed-tufts. 
 In the great drought the sun goes down 
 like a ball of bloody yet burnished brass. 
 Night comes on and the young moon is 
 a ruddy crescent. The trees stand silent 
 and solemn. The Poet would be glad to 
 spend the night with them; to tramp 
 along the road in the cool darkness; to 
 watch the lonely farmhouses with their 
 solitary lights shine out from the small 
 windows. 
 
 But the horses dash forw^ard over the 
 steep hills and the friends will soon be 
 home from their drive in the mountains. 
 
 118 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 August 13. My uprisen thought of good As the 
 health and harmony hovers over the SJieMnah 
 physical part, leading the stricken body to Israel 
 as the Shekinah irradiated the Ark of the 
 Covenant before the Israelites. 
 
 August 14. The utility, the efficacy, the Little Efforts 
 resulting power of little efforts, of even 
 the least, most incidental, ragged bits of 
 things prove that all is divine, that all 
 is composed of god-stuff. 
 As the material vesture of all science, 
 philosophy, art, literature is composed of 
 rags — old, dirty, frayed bits and ends, 
 the very leavings and cast-offs of living 
 — thrown aside as useless — yet from such 
 as these come forth the magnificent 
 libraries of the world: so this Journal 
 which was begun in moments of sheer 
 despair, with the hope only of catching 
 a few outlines, a rag, a bit-end of thought 
 and feeling; this poor Journal has been 
 deemed fit to pass under the eyes of one 
 who knows,* and he tells me that he is 
 interested in reading it — interested in 
 reading the bits and rags of thought- 
 life. O marvelous existence, that thy 
 very shreds and refuse may be a medium 
 of vital communication with what is holy 
 and divine! 
 
 'John Burroughs. 
 
 119 
 
IN HARMONY 
 
 Good Only August 15. I know that good only is 
 IsBeal real. It exists of necessity. Evil does 
 not exist of necessity. It is a spurious 
 manufacture. That which exists of 
 necessity is eternal. Good only is 
 eternal. 
 
 120 
 
HERE ENDS THE UNIVERSAL ORDER, AS 
 WRITTEN BY FRIEDERIKA QUITMAN OGDEN. 
 PUBLISHED IN BOOK FORM BY PAUL ELDER 
 & COMPANY, AND PRINTED AT THEIR TOMOYE 
 PRESS, IN THE CITY OF SAN FRANCISCO, 
 DURING THE MONTH OF AUGUST, NINETEEN 
 HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN. 
 

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