/ / / '/,f ^/' '^^A / I u< i^^^K^ 0'-' LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. ©^ap. §aju|ri5]^t:|ij Shelf .-.LSL S ^^^5 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE SOLON LAUER r to 1^1^ BOSTON LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS 1895 \^ ^A\ K COPYKIGIIT, 1S94, By SOLON LAUEK. All rights reserved. Nortoooli iPrrss : J. S. Gushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith. Boston, Mass., U.S.A. CONTENTS. PAGE THE SOUL'S WAY OF LIFE: Literature and Love 3 An Invocation , 4 Life from Within 5 The Spirit of the Pines 6 The Philosophy of Power 7 The Soul's True Nature 9 The Soul's True Life 10 Life Infinite and Omnipresent 12 The Way of Life 14 Holy Ground 15 A Song of the Soul 16 The Aim of Life 17 The Secret of Happiness 19 Contests of the Mind 24 The Soul's Native Air 25 Saving Power of Truth 26 Faith and Knowledge 27 Personality 27 The Power of the Soul 29 Power 30 Resurrexi 31 Our Divine Relationship 31 The Soul's Freedom 33 The Soul Omnipotent 33 The Power of Faith ,..,.. 34 The Knowledge of the Self .,,,... 35 The Ideal Life , ,. 36 The Better Way 38 The Soul's Blossoming 38 iii IV CONTENTS. PAGE Ideal Targets , . . . 42 The Soul's Leading , . . , 43 The Soul's Visions 45 The Voice of the Soul 47 The Illumined Life . . . , 48 Self-Government ..o ...... . 50 A Gospel of Nature 53 Time and the Soul 54 The Word made Flesh 56 Aspiration of the Soul 57 Making Tracks for the Unknown . 58 The Eiches of the Soul 59 True Bonds of Friendship .... = . 60 Health 63 Clothing 66 Artificial Heat . 67 Food 69 Home and Furnishings 70 The Source of Health 72 Self-Culture 74 Ethics and Action 78 Physics and Metaphysics 78 The Public Man 80 The Mystery of Life 81 The True Church 84 Kenunciation 86 The Babbler and the Scorner 87 SOCIETY AND THE SOUL: Law of Association 91 Slavery and Union 93 Love and Money . . 94 The Individual and the State 95 Love and Legislation 103 LITERATURE AND LIFE : The Society of Books 107 True Publication 109 Books and Books 110 CONTENTS. V PAGE Obscene Books Ill Self in Literature , . . 112 The Study of Self 113 Rhetorical Authority 116 Literature and Action 117 Books and Nature 117 The Personal and the Universal 118 Literature and the Soul 119 Originality in Writing 122 Feeling in Literature 124 Thoreau 125 Pure Literature 129 Inspiration 130 The Book of Life 130 Books and Character 131 Writing and Living 133 Learning and Ethics 135 Education 136 The Office of Poetry 138 PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL; A Paradise of the Pacific 140 The Divine Self 141 The Society of Solitude 142 Man the Light-Bearer 142 The Prince of Nature 143 The World of Sound 145 Man and Nature . . . • 146 Wave-Symphonies 149 Fishing for Beauty 150 The Music of the Soul 151 The Spirit's World 153 A Morning Picture 154 The Law of Labor 154 The True Heaven 155 Drifting 156 Traveling Truthward 158 Health and Hunger 160 Spirits of the Night- Winds ...,.,. 161 VI COKTENTS. PAGE Sphere-Music 164 Ideal Food 165 The Life of Peace 167 The True Freedom 169 Habitation 170 The Spirit of the Sea 172 LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL: Into the Wilderness 174 Chateaugay Chasm 174 Chateaugay Lakes 175 Saranac and Lake Placid 179 The Tent under the Pines 180 Wild Voices 181 A Metaphysical Smudge 182 Man a Stranger in Nature 183 Vacation Methods 184 Storm-Music 185 Time-Philosophy 186 Providence and Trust 188 Under the Stars 190 The Soul's Yearning for Wild Nature . 191 Ascent of Whiteface 192 The Lord's Day in the Woods 193 I^ost 193 Civilization tried by Solitude 194 The World as an Ink-Pot 195 A Three Days' Tramp 195 Natural Food 197 Ausable Lakes and the Keene Valley 197 The Grave of Old John Brown 198 The Game Question 200 Racing with the Hours 201 Thoughts of Ideal Life 201 A Rustic Lodge 203 Morning in the Mountains 204 Camp-fire 'Dreams 205 Rainy-day Reveries . . . . , 205 Table Talk and Table Fare . , , , , 207 CONTENTS. vii PAGE Decorations of Nature 207 The Inner Voice 208 Character-Building 209 Morning Voices 210 God in Nature 211 Spiritual Laws 211 The Real Pagans 212 SOUL-VOICES : The Soul of the Poet 213 The Cup of Love 215 To a Tree 217 The Sea and the Soul 217 Joy of My Love 218 God is over All ... 219 The Song of the Sirens 220 The Name of My Heart-Queen 221 The Ideal Love 222 Love's Plaint 222 The Wreck of the " Thunderbolt " 223 I had a Friend 225 Thou Dreamer 226 Thorn and Tendril 227 Love's Surety 228 A Meeting and a Parting 229 To the New Moon 230 Love's Miracle 230 Love's Resurrection 231 Too Late thy Love 231 To a Bumble Bee 232 Dear Friend 232 Infinite Spirit 233 The Soul's Protection 233 Nirvana 234 Sad Voices 235 To the Bride of My Soul 235 Spirits of Song 236 The Home of the Soul 237 Love's Beauty 238 Vlll CONTENTS. PAGE Love's Presence 239 The Knowledge of the Law 239 Mist-Drapery 240 Love Divine 240 The Soul and the World 241 Night and the Soul 241 Wonder of the Soul 242 Swifter than Arrow's Flight 243 Dust and the Soul 244 Out of the Infinite 244 Not in Time 245 November Storm- Clouds 246 November Sunset 246 The Soul's Mystery 246 Sunset and the Soul 247 Owen Brown 248 Divine Possession 249 Sphinx-Faces 249 For Whom is the Unheard Song 249 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. THE SOUL'S WAY OF LIFE. LITEEATUEE AND LOYE. The test of all literature is its power to uplift and comfort human life. Truth is sacred only when it serves the needs of men. Inspiration comes through the opened gates of love. When the soul lifts up its gates, even lifts up its everlasting doors, that the King of Glory may come in, it is filled with a morning splendor which pales the bursting glory of the day. Who is this King of Glory ? It is the spirit of Love, mighty in battling with the sorrows of the world. He who would serve the world through literature must be filled with the glory of this spirit of Love. That Glory must shine in every sentence, making it luminous with the light of Love. How shall this spirit of Love be invited into the soul ? By consecration. Let the house of the soul be cleansed of every taint of selfishness and worldliness, and the spirit of Love will enter in and abide there. Every per- sonal aim shuts the door to this spirit. Consecration, pure and lofty, to the welfare of mankind, invites it. Eorgetfulness of self invites it. What are hunger, cold, privation, suffering ? What are the detractions and en- vies of men ? Nothing, nothing, to the consecrated soul. Secure in the protection of God, the soul trembles not at any threat of the world. Pain and death lose their sting, and the grave its victory, when the soul is fixed on Truth and Love, and consecrated to human service. 3 4 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. AN IT^VOCATIOK O Spirit of Song, Spirit of Eloquence, Spirit of Love, chant through me thy sweet and tender refrains, to com- fort the aching hearts of men and women ! Out of thy infinite tender love, out of thy boundless compassion, yea, out of thy all-seeing wisdom, which knoweth the end from the beginning, and can see the Light that is hid from mortal eyes, still shining above every cloud of sor- row, sing for human souls that are sad ; chant sweet re- frains that shall descend like dews of heaven upon parched and thirsty fields, making the flowers of joy to spring up where sorrow has made her desolation. Behold, the harp-strings of my soul are well attuned for thee ; breathe thou over them, and let sweet music arise therefrom. Heart of Mankind, beat into my words your throb- bing hopes ! Let me dip my pen into your warm blood, that I may write somewhat else than mere cold words ! Give to me your secrets, your loves, your yearnings, yea, your sorrows and your disappointments also, that I may make poems and chants of them ; that I may show you how noble are your pulsings of love and affection ; how divine your pity and compassion; how beautiful your tender charity ; how sweet your secret longings after holiness ! Impart to me your inmost secrets of thought and feeling ; your shy, un whispered yearnings for truth and good. And Love, thou spirit that dost dwell in this heart-temple, make me also thy confidant ! Whisper to me thj^ longings, thy trembling hopes ; show me thy pure visions of joy ; and when thou art sad, and utterly bereaved, let me dry thy tears, if I may, with tender words of consolation. When disappointment has clouded thee, and the angel on whom thou hadst fixed thine eyes disappears in the far horizon of thy life, leaving thee sitting lonely by the tide-washed strand, striking mourn- ful notes from thy golden lyre, then let me sing to thee, THE SOULS WAY OF LIFE. 5 Love ; let me chant thy grief for thee, to relieve thy over-burdenecl heart, lest it burst in agony ; and then, when the calm of the morning sea, stilled by the brooding spirit of night, has entered into thy soul, let me chant to thee a more hopeful strain, of joys that wait for thee beyond this Time-horizon. Poor spirit, sitting lonely by the shore, with the sobbing waves chanting thy mournful mood, and the mist-laden airs sighing around thee, let me lift thee up, and take thy golden harp, and with a tender, loving hand strike out some chords of joy and triumph to cheer and revive thy heart. I know how desolate thy heart-temple is, when its deity has departed ; 1 know the -silence, the agony, the poured-out, piteous cry, the wild out-reaching of the hands in utter darkness, the black despair, the sense of death-shadows closing round ; I know all the moods and cries of the soul when love has left it groping in the silent dark ; I know how empty seem the world and life ; how far-off and unreal the fact of heaven; I know these all, my poor, lone spirit, sitting by the sobbing waves, listening to their mournful chant. And may I not, then, sing to thee, and comfort thee as I was comforted, when out of the silence and the night certain songs stole forth and crept into my heart, and revived its ebbing life, and set it pulsing again with hope and joy? my lonely spirit, look up and listen to me ; and I will sing thee a song which shall comfort thee. So shall my singing be blessed; for it shall be the love of God, and the comfort of God, and the peace of God which passeth understanding. LIFE FEOM WITHIN. A TREE whispered a secret to me this morning. I stood with my arm around it, my cheek laid against its rough bark, listening if I might not hear its heart of life throb- bing in response to mine. I heard a voice coming up out of the silent but light-filled eternity, through countless 6 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. ages of creation, and uttering itself forth through this solemn monitor of nature. It said: ''AH life is from within. God creates from inner centers. Seek not with- out for power. It lies within. Thou canst not find God in any distant land, in any person wise or holy, in any book, ancient or modern. Thou wilt find Him in thine own soul, in all His splendor and power. As He has organized the oak into the tiny acorn, so has He organized the Divine Man into the soul. Call upon That, call upon That, and thou shalt stand a god in time and space ; rul- ing the earth and all things therein. God cannot help thee save through thyself. Claim thy possibilities, and they are realized ; neglect them, they lie sleeping forever. Now thou hast received the secret of Power. Use it for the welfare of thy fellow-men, and the kingdom of heaven is at hand." THE SPIRIT OF THE PINES. I STOOD one spring morning under the pines in the Dorchester woods, and listened to their whispering voices. The crow's harsh but invigorating note sounded wild above the tree-tops. A flock of doves rose with great flapping of wings and soared away. A hawk sailed finely above the woods, describing planet-like curves. The very air vibrated with life, and it seemed to me absurd that any creature should be sick or unhappy in the wide world. With laws of beauty and health permeating the universe, how does man contrive to evade them? Alas ! We know not; but somehow, artful dodger that he is, he does hide himself from them, and thus miss of his rightful heritage. I lifted up my soul and touched the Infinite Life as I stood there under the spreading boughs of the pines. A sea of Light swam over head, and I below did lift up my soul to bathe in it. The things of the world grew very dim. I looked with open eyes but saw not, for the vision of my soul was fastened on things not visible to mortal sight. Immovable, fixed, with upturned face, I stood rapt in spiritual vision, my soul communing with the Spirit of Life. Every atom in my body thrilled to the music of the unseen Life that was throbbing through me. It seemed to me that I need never be sick or unhappy, never see death, nevermore know Time or Space ; but that in this mood I might become as the gods, knowing not sin or death. I became one with the Spirit of Nature. The trees, the blue sky, were transfigured. Air and branches were melted into Spirit. Clouds floated in the blue sky, but they were to me Thoughts. I saw that all is Mind, and that there is no death. I • penetrated the arcana of nature, and learned the secrets of the gods. I saw things unlawful and impossible to speak. I returned to Time and Sense with a new pulse of life, a new sense of my relations to Creative Energy. I per- ceived that God is as near to us as the air we breathe ; and that by a conscious recognition of His Presence Ave may make Him seen and felt of all men. I determined to live more strictly, and to seek this Spirit of Life with more persistent zeal. THE PHILOSOPHY OF POWEE. Why must we lead this life of shreds and patches ? Why not put on the seamless robe of divinity, and be the god we really are ? We are not this body, this brain, this heart, this hand, this thinking and feeling. We are somewhat else than any or all of these. ni}^ friend, why are you so cast down ? Why do you so weakly yield to Fate ? Stand erect, stretch forth the hand of power, command Fate ! Else ! Come forth from thy sepulcher ! Burst thy grave clothes ; let Life surge through thy limbs ! Come forth into the great, beautiful world, and be a resistless Force ! a never-resting Energy, to bring forth Order out of Chaos, Eight out of Wrong, 8 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. Beauty out of Darkness and Imperfection ! Why be an excrescence on the body of the Universe ? a parasite, a fungus growth, a wart ? Be a Soul ! a glad, rich, beauti- ful Soul, shining with the ineffable light of God ! Out of the Flame-deeps, out of mystic, thrilling light-oceans of Life, camest thou forth to Act upon the world. Thou art not a Thing. Thou art a Soul, on fire of the Spirit, flaming forth out of Darkness to make the world all Light. Not mountains piled on thee shall hold thee down ! Though the heavens be rolled together as a scroll, though the sun and moon be turned to blood, though chaos and night reclaim the world and all therein, do thou stand fast on thy eternal Pedestal ; Thou shalt not be moved ! Thou wast established from eternity, be- fore the world was. Thy foundations were laid in God. Thou, Flame-spirit, Thou, Presence ineffable, hide not thyself like a poor taper beneath a bushel ! Station thyself upon a hill-top where thou mayest be a Beacon ! Thou Star of Beauty, thou Orb of Purity, set in the heavens, hide not thy beautiful light ! Shine, shine, though clouds obscure thee, though other orbs eclipse thee ! Thou art not to dim thy radiance because of these. Hurl thy Light-lances into the ranks of darkness ! The ranks of Chaos shall be broken, they shall be put to flight before thy all-resistless Might ! Uplift thy mighty form ! Eaise thine arm of Power and smite the Giant! Thou shalt have the victory : thou shalt cut off the Monster's head ! AVith the sword of the Spirit thou shalt put all enemies of Truth to flight. Mutter no more the creeds of fear. Tremble no longer at hell's distant muttering thunder. That noise is the toppling of hell's battlements, besieged by angels of Light. That cry that trembles faintly on the distant air is the pean of released souls, whose dungeon doors have swung wide open, and whose chains have dropped from hands and feet. The world awakes ! Man has discovered that Power is his by the THE soul's way OF LLFE. 9 claiming ; that his nature is Love and Wisdom ; and that the oracle of life is within the temple of the soul. This is the philosophy of Power ; the divine philoso- phy which converts Man from a subject to a king; from a victim of Fate to Fate itself, holding the issues of life and death. Through thee, O Man, Creation works. Thou art not creature, but Creator. Thou art one with the Cause of things : the Primal Energy, which shaped the world and all therein ; which gleams in the stars, blossoms in the fields, sings in the notes of the birds. Thou art Life. Thinkest thou that Death awaits thee ? ' Tis but an Appearance, a Phantasy. 'Tis the ebbing of thy Tide, leaving thy shells and weeds upon the shore of Time. Thou art not the weeds, the shells, the pebbles. Thou art the Ocean, and Life and Death are but the ebbing and flowing of thy tide. THE SOUL'S TEUE NATUHE. The soul is made aware of her divine nature by every act of self-control. Philosophy may affirm, reason may argue the supremacy of the soul, but I know it only when I exercise it. When my higher nature is active it is self-conscious. When it is dormant it is uncon- scious, and no mere argument can reach and wake it. In moments of divine awakening I know that I am not this brain, this heart, these nerves, with all their thoughts, passions, sensations. I am a spectator in the mind's arena, watching the games and conflicts of life. I am not conquered in the body's downfall, wounded in the body's hurt, affected in the pains or pleasures of the mind. I am present, but not a part of these busy scenes. Out of Silence I came, out of mystic Darkness, to view these games of life ; and when my desire for these is satisfied I shall retire again to my own domain. Darkness, Silence, did I say? But only to the mortal 10 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. consciousness. The vast realm out of which I came to play these games upon the shore of Time is unknown only to the mind of flesh. The soul was born not, nor can ever die. She cometh not, nor goeth; but forever and forever doth Remain. Fixed at the center of the Universe, which lives and moves from her, she change th not, through all the centuries. Time fadeth, starry sys- tems pass away, sound gives place to silence, light to darkness, life to seeming death; but ever doth the soul remain, unmoved, unchanged. She visiteth the shores of many worlds, and sporteth mid the waves of life. She knoweth all the lives that rise in beauteous order out of Time. The sea-shell's tints, the fishes' dart- ing life, the wild joy of the sea-bird, sporting with the breaking waves, the savage beasts that leap and prowl among the jungle wilds, the eagle's soaring joy, — all these the great soul knoweth, for she lives them all. THE SOUL'S TRUE LIFE. We are all like children in the world. We cry and fret because the gods or Fortune do not grant us what we wish. We reach out child-like to clutch the moon and stars, and will not be comforted, because we ma}^ not reach them. The good soul in us whispers peace, but we will have no peace, but strife only, because we have not learned to curb our desires and control our per- turbations. Nerves and brain vibrate in jangling discord, and we suffer tortures, born of our feeble will. Why not put on the purple robe of royal mastery, and be the lords of life we were designed to be? With a sweet enticement the soul beckons us to enter upon our heri- tage of divine life; but we dally and delay, and linger among shadows, where the forms of evil lurk, and pesti- lent vapors rise. Above us the sun rides in his golden car, scattering light and joy; but we wrap our mantle THE soul's way OF LIFE. 11 of weakness around us, and sit cloked with our petty griefs, refusing the glad life that might be ours. the splendor of this royal life which the soul would have us lead ! Visions of it break upon me with a tender beauty like that of dawn. Music fills it, beauty envelops it, wisdom whispers it her secrets. I have no language to picture this divine, ideal life. I wrong it with my words. It is too high for speech. The soul knoweth it, and delicately hints of it, amid the coarse- ness of our daily life. As the light-touched cloud floats in the sky, so doth the image of this beautiful life float in the soul, radiant with dazzling splendor. There is a Light shining from above, which pours its celestial glory over the dream-visions of the soul ; and this Light no words can picture. The soul must see it, with open vision ; the heart must feel it, with secret thrills of joy. The saints have known it; and when the light of this world turns to darkness, there in the sky shines this Divine Light, and the soul bathes in it, and is glorified. It is for us to live in this Light, and not in the dark- ness of the senses. Let us open our eyes, and lift them up to look upon this fair vision. Let us open wide the portals of our soul, that this celestial Light may stream in, to fill us with music and joy. The heaven that men have pictured waits to enter us when we will open our heart to receive it. At the door stands and knocks the pleading Spirit, with a mighty love. Out from the Infi- nite heart of the All-Father goeth forth the tender invi- tation of Love to the soul, inviting it to rise out of darkness into Light, out of discord into Infinite Har- mony, out of grief and pain into Joy Eternal. The Brahmic bliss, the joy of heaven, are but poor expres- sions for this high state of the soul, when brooding Love hath called it home, and its abode is in the heart of Infi- nite Peace. Sweeter than star-music is the tone of that Voice which speaks to the soul out of the Heart of 12 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. Peace. Its music doth dispel the discords of the world, and the soul charmed by it heareth not the siren songs of earth. If we would but bring our souls into sympathy with those currents of celestial life that flow above and around us we might be filled with a pure joy and peace. The life of Jesus Christ represents to millions of men and women that pure life of the soul in harmony with God. Amid superstitions dark and terrible, amid thoughtless clamoring of priests, amid fanatical wild cries of zealous apostles, there has lived a sweet, tender music of love and wisdom, coming down over stormy centuries from that modest Nazarene to bless our hearts to-day with peace and joy. Still doth He point the Way to Perfect Life. Still are His words the notes of a Sphere-music which sounds above the noises of this world. Still are they Words of Life, thrilling with the soul's pure fire. LIFE INFINITE AND OMNIPEESENT. How shall I utter in words my sense of the presence of Life, touching me through every blade of grass, every leaf, every bud and blossom ! These stems and leaves, these twigs and branches, fade from my sight, and I sense only the beautiful Life which forms and inhabits them. The Divine Soul is embodied in all these, and speaks to me through their sweet language. Here is Original Beauty. Out of these grasses and weeds the imagination constructs infinite forests. Tropi- cal jungles, wild, tangled groves, filled with curious crea- tures ; a world primitive, new-created, in which I am another Adam, or new man, privileged to name all things from my perception of their nature and qualities. Into this tangled wildwood I pass, exploring my new world. The Divine Laws reveal themselves to me on every side. Here is my Bible, my Revelation of Truth, my Holy Law, expounded out of every leaf and grass-blade. THE soul's way OF LIFE. 13 I perceive the Avorking of the Divine Mind. The vast Intelligence out of which came forth these wondrou sly- constructed forms fronts me here, and I prostrate my- self before Its Holy Presence. Life, life, vibrating in sweetest music, surrounds me. I am wholly swallowed up in Life. I perceive that there is nothing else than Life ; thrilling, throbbing, in every form the senses seize upon; circulating around and through me, in thousand- fold invisible currents. I perceive that this body and brain of mine are products of that same Infinite Life and Intelligence which shapes these beautiful forms around me ; that I am a part of the Kosmic Order ; that the celestial systems are my kin ; that worlds and weeds are floating in One Spirit, forms of one Primal Mind. This earth,' clothed so wondrously with grass and herbs, groves and forests, is not the solid ball it seems. It is a floating mist ; and like a summer cloud it changeth and passeth away. What wind brought it hither from the unknoAvn Deeps of Space ? Like a rain-drop falling from a floating cloud, this earth is falling from a vaster sky. Time ! Space ! mystery of Infinity ! Out of the vast Unknown, into the little Known ! Out of deeps abysmal, out of Mystery and Xight, come forth the images of Thought, clothing themselves in the dream- drapery of earth. Unfixed are all things, in the soul's fierce tire. Afloat and drifting are Ave, earth ; drifting, yet guided. Shimmering forms of Time and the World, ye fool me not with your enchantments. I know you for Appearances, you beauteous Forms; and as I gaze, your features change and fade. Amid this Avhirling, seething sea, what things are Peal, soul ? Is there not somewhat stable beneath all these Appearances ? Is all Illusion ? All Deceit ? Life Is, and Mind, and Forming Will, which out of Mist brings forth these changing forms. The Builder 14 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. dies not in the falling house. Life, in its builded Uni- verse, looks ever on the changing forms, and ever buildeth new. It ceaseth not to bnild at any time. Change is its law, and one eternal circle is its mode. Decay is growth, destrnction is creation, death is life ; and nowhere in the Vast Unknown doth motion to fixation yield. Flowing, flowing, are the streams of Force ; heaving, rolling, break- ing ever are the waves of the boundless Sea whence worlds are floated into Time. And in the human soul the Universe repeats itself. The motions of the Mind repeat the flowing currents of the Kosmic Force ; the stars appear as Thoughts, shin- ing in beauty out of unknown Night; and loves and hates, affections and repulsions, prayers and fears and adorations all, are but the motions of celestial waves, rolling and breaking on the soul's deep sea. O soul, couldst thou but know thyself, amid the fleeting phan- tasies of the world ! Infinite art thou, thy nature older than the world or Time. Starry systems were born of thee, and universes live and die whilst thou dost con- template thy work. THE WAY OF LIFE. I APPREHEND in the midst of the confusions and dis- cords of the world a Way of Life, which bringeth Peace to perturbed spirits, Joy to hearts af&icted. It is a straight and narrow way, but trodden smooth by saintly feet in bygone ages. The holy ones of earth have trod this Path, seeking the soul's domain. With earnest seek- ing they have found this Way, and walked upon it by the soul's own light. Ever the soul enchanteth, ever the Spirit whisp'reth, and hearts by love are drawn to seek the Perfect Way. Music sweet and angel voices sound the praises of the Perfect Life. The soul's own language uttereth it, in prayer and hymn ; and with a tongue en- chanted by Truth's high music she publisheth it abroad. THE soul's way OF LIFE. 15 Sweetly the Bibles of the world have sung this song celes- tial ; the chant of Truth Divine, which maketh wise the simple and saveth them that are lost. Out of the Gates of Silence, which open on the World Unknown, the sweet refrain of Truth's celestial music floateth ; and out of gathered clouds, made luminous by mystic Light, the radiant forms of angels do descend, bringing their messages of joy and peace, good- will to men. soul, illumined by the mystic Light, in rapturous tones thy burden shall be uttered ; in song, in speech, in loving action, guided by the Spirit's Voice within. Go forth upon thy mission, gentle soul, bearing the lighted lamp of Truth. At heaven's high altars hath thy lamp been lighted, and with its mystic flame it sheds abroad the Light of lights, which showeth to sin-burdened souls the Path of Life. Peace descendeth and joy cometh, on wings of light. high world of Light, thy radiance doth infill this world. With lifted eyes and glad, receptive heart I come to Thee, Spirit that dost brood upon the world. Out of thee the Word of Truth proceedeth; out of Thee is Life, whose healing stream can wash away all sin and pain. Li thee I live and move and have my being, Spirit of Eternal Rest. The Worlds acknowledge thee, in every atom of their being ; with tongues unnumbered do they chant Thy praises. Holy Spirit of the Vast Un- known. Eternity is Thine, Spirit Holy ; Thou wearest it as raiment. Ever changing is Thy form, in beauteous variation. HOLY GROUND. How beautiful is that place where Truth has dawned upon us ! The flood of Light Celestial bathes the scene with beauty not its own ; and it becomes a Holy Place, a Place of Worship, where altars might be builded to the Known yet Unknown God. Here came down Fire out of heaven, and kindled bush and tree ; and in the New Light 16 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. I saw a New World, and knew that God created it through me. My eyes beheld its beauty and its wondrous har- mony. The infinite and perfect Laws revealed them- selves to me through every form I saw. The trees and bushes, herbs and grasses were revelations of Creative Mind, working its present miracles of growth before me. I sensed a Presence as of Light invisible, and I knew that God was there and everywhere, awaiting recognition. A SOKG OF THE SOUL. Over the sounding sea, to me, Cometh the song of Eternity, A strain of the soul's high melody. Out of the light-filled sky my eye Catcheth a glimpse of Deity. In splendor not to be told by me A city riseth, over the sea ; Its walls of jasper and pearl I see. Shining out of Infinity : And there the souls of the blessed dwell, Safe in Truth's high citadel. Over the sounding sea, to me, Come the voices of the Free, Whom Truth hath freed eternally ; Sweet is the music floating o'er The harmony of the wave- washed shore ; It cometh in glad notes to me. Over the sounding sea. Sweet are the voices of the blest That sing from the Home of Eternal Eest. Listen, my soul, to the strains that roll Over the sounding sea to me. Over the Sea of Immensity, Bounded alone by Eternity, Floated in glad harmony This song of the soul to me. THE soul's way OF LIFE. 17 THE AIM OF LIFE. AVhat shall I do to be saved ? cries the Christian. So ask I, but not in fear of a fiery fate. It is from the fire of this Avorld that I would be saved ; the fire of consum- ing care, the flames of all-devouring anxiety. I find that the more I have the more I want ; as if the law of physics were reversed in the metaphysical world, and a vacuum existed which could never be filled, with all possessions. This Maw, this greedy, all-swallowing Stomach of ours ; that engulfs gold, lands, houses, ofiices, honors, and yet gapes for more! Will this vacuum of desire never be filled and satisfied? » With desire like the appetite of space for worlds we go through life, struggling, crowding, fighting, — and achieve, what ? Happiness ? Ah ! Who catches that elusive sprite ? We are all chasing, but most of us have only panting and perspiration for our reward. I would hold out to my fellow-men an end more worthy of life. Stop ! Reflect a moment, my brother. What is your chief aim in life ? Have you not thought of that ? Is it not time you should do so ? Surely that mark you are aiming at now is not your true target. Was it to hit that mark that you have so excellent a bow, tempered in Vulcan's forge ? Define me what is your aim in life. Is it to acquire wealth ? But wealth is nothing in itself. The use of wealth is determined by the character of the user. One man works his own destruction with wealth. jS"o curse from his worst enemy could so .blight his life as this W^ealth, which perhaps a loving parent gave him. Wealth, then, is not a good in itself; but the character that will make a good use of either wealth or poverty, — that is the real good, is it not ? Is it to gain happiness that you are so struggling? What is happiness ? Is it not a state of the Mind ? And do you think that this state of the mind is a result 18 lifp: and light fkom above. of Possessions ? Let the wretched who are rich in this worhl's goods answer. Let the good answer, whose souls are full of peace, while their purse is innocent of treasure. If happiness is a state of the mind, it is within our own control, and not dependent on the whims of fortune. Man's nature hath a sphere of action above the things of the senses. To be rich in Truth, Wisdom, Purity, Per- ception of the Beautiful; in Love, Benevolence, Good- Avill ; to be full of a peace which no discord of the earth's air can disturb ; to live in the light of Divine Truth, the consciousness of one's Divine Nature : this is true Wealth ; all else is Illusion. To strive for this AVealth is a worthy aim. He, who strives for This can never fail. No man can keep his reward from him. It depends upon himself alone, is fully within his power, and all the devils of hell and the world cannot rob him of his possession. " But I Avish opportunity for culture," says the ambi- tious youth ; " pictures, books, music, travel, enrich the soul; and for these I must have money." It is not hard to answer this statement. The opx^ortunities and condi- tions for the highest culture to-day are within the reach of the poorest. A few weeks of honest labor will secure these for any earnest youth. It is not these that make necessary the universal drudgery of mankind. It is love of display, fondness for false pleasures, that prompt men to struggle so hercely. I would say no word against legitimate business. Action is the normal condition for man. The human soul is an expression of Infinite Energy. Sloth is death. The repose of the philosopher is not inaction. It is intensest action, but in the mental and spiritual, rather than the physical. To organize and control Industry, to produce things needful for human life, must be com- mended by the philosopher, though he himself engages not in such activities. The test of any action is its effect upon human welfare. Eliminate from the world those THE soul's way OF LIFE. 19 industries which foster the lower side of human nature, which feed false appetites, pander to spurious ambitions, serve mere sensuality, and such business as would be left the gods themselves might well engage in. To produce food, clothing, houses, furniture, and such things as serve the love of the truly beautiful, would never enslave any man. It is the service of the False that degrades men. To follow one's love, to engage in that which conscience and heart alike commend, develops the highest in man. To serve things below one's best nature must always degrade and destroy. THE SECEET OF HAPPINESS. Epicurus, who taught that happiness is the highest good, saw deeply into the structure of the world and the nature of the soul. Who is not seeking happiness? And yet, who believes that happiness is wholly within his reach? The disappointed expectations of men have turned them to a world beyond the horizon of time, Avhere happiness, which they have vainly pursued on earth, shall at last be theirs. We dream of golden cities in the skies, where joy never sleeps ; where the soul shall sing eternally her songs of gladness. But meantime here on earth we groan and sweat under a weary life, ignorant that happi- ness is within our reach. To teach the way to happiness is the aim of all religions, all philosophies. Among the ancients the secret of a happy life was taught as the exact sciences are taught among us. With them happiness was no gift of fortune or the gods, but a state of mind to be attained by personal effort, in accordance with certain principles of action. The premise from which all true teaching must proceed is that from which the Stoics argued : namely, that God made man for happiness ; that the nature of the soul is fitted for it; that only through ignorance can misery enslave us and chain us to the rock of torture. Tender 20 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. Buddha, after soul-strugglings terrible, and mighty yearn- ings for the Light, discovered that Knowledge is the way to happiness, because Ignorance is the mother of pain ; and with profound insight of the laws of the soul he formulated a philosophy of life which has guided millions of the human race into peace and joy. The radiance of ills illumined teaching has not been dimmed by centuries of time; and to-day his words of life feed millions of human souls. Our philosophy of life must found itself deeply and solidly upon the truth of the divine nature of the soul. The materialistic tendency of modern science is destruc- tive to all true ethical teaching, because it places all power in externals, and makes the soul not a cause but an effect ; a result of certain conditions and combinations of matter. If the soul is an effect, happiness is a gift of chance, and the fortunate only may enjoy it; but if the soul is a Cause, a Positive Force, happiness is a con- dition to be achieved through the exercise of enlightened will. It is then, as the ancient sages taught, the fruit of knoAvledge. If happiness is the natural state of the soul, nothing external has power to destroy it. Only the soul can conquer the soul. If the soul will, she may maintain her natural state of happiness in the midst of whatever external conditions. The poor slave Epictetus in the midst of external poverty maintained a mental state of serenity and peace, through the practice of those precepts which have made him famous. When he is asked "How is it possible that a man who has nothing, who is naked, houseless, without a hearth, squalid, without a slave, without a city, can pass a life that flows easily ? " he replies : " See, God has sent you a man to show you that it is possible. Look at me, who am without a city, with- out a house, without possessions, without a slave; I sleep on the ground ; I have no wife, no children, no praetorium, THE soul's way OF LIFE. 21 but only the earth and heavens and one poor cloak. And what do I want ? Am I not without sorrow ? Am I not without fear ? Am I not free ? Did I ever blame God or man?" For every calamity he has a precept ready, showing the free and independent nature of the soul, which laughs at chains, wounds, terrors. " I must die," he says ; " but must I die lamenting ? I must be put in chains ; must I then also lament ? I must go into exile ; does any man then hinder me from going with smiles and cheerfulness and contentment? But I will put you in chains. Man, what are you talking about? Me in chains ? You may fetter my leg, but my will not even Zens himself can overpower. I will throw you into prison. My poor body, you mean. I will cut your head off. But when have I told you that my head alone can- not be cut off ? " Epictetus makes happiness and unhappiness to reside wholly in opinion or belief ; that is, in the attitude which the free mind takes toward the experiences of life. " It is not death," says he, "which is terrible; for if it were terrible, it would have been so to Socrates; but our opinion of death, as being terrible, that is the terrible thing." If a man insults me, says he, it is my opinion of the thing, as being insulting, that affects me ; and not the thing itself. Insult a stone, the stone is not affected; and I am affected only by myself, by my own mind. The soul is insulated from every power but her own. Whatever touches me must touch me through myself. Not your word, your act, can injure me, but only my own. Only by surrender of my divine right of mastery may I be enslaved to any evil thing. Only as I connive and plot against myself can any plot succeed against me. Only myself can betray myself; only my own weapon can Avound me ; only my own hand smite ]ne. Who are you, that would presume to punish me ? Know you not that I may be injured only from within ? The soul is 22 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. armed in steel impenetrable, forged in Vulcan's fires. Not even in the lieel am I vulnerable, save to my own stroke. Dip your arrow in the poison of my own false opinion, and it may wound me even unto death; but there is no other poison in the world for me. As I will, so am I. No prison in the world can hold me save the prison of my own opinions. In the jail of false beliefs am I immured, and vainly do I beat against the walls, until the Thor-hammer of Truth shall smite upon them. At that blow they dissolve into invisible mist, and I stand free in the great world. And not by any hand may this Thor-hammer be wielded save my own. I must seize it, with valiant grasp, not fearing its weight, and strike believing, yea, knowing that its blow is fatal to the walls of error. the mighty power of the soul armed with Truth I As Samson with an ass' jawbone slew his thousand men, so may the soul with the least of weapons wielded in the knowledge of her divine power overcome the hosts of evil. Down topple the walls of every Babylon, when the soul's trumpet-note of Power is sounded. Three times round she marches, blows her blast, and the cita- dels of error crumble. We forget, in times of weakness, that the soul is one with the Forming Spirit of the universe. Out of Power Infinite she came, to act upon the world ; not to be acted on alone, but to create new symbols of her immortal nature. Out of the deeps of Power, out of realms of Life, she cometh forth, and wields her scepter in her own domain. Son of the Mighty God, why art thou fallen ? Eecum- bent on the earth art thou, the dust upon thy noble head. Rise out of this thy low estate, and claim thine own ! Son of the Highest ; offspring of the Mighty God ; who but thyself hath robbed and wounded thee ? Who but thyself hath ta'en thy crown from off thy brow of Light, THE soul's way OF LIFE. 23 and cast it in the dust ? Who but thyself hath humbled thee, that thou dost he upon thy face and grovel in the dirt? Over thee obscene birds of prey are hovering, flapping round thy head their gloomy wings. Uncanny bats and owls are waiting in the darkening wood to light upon thee when thy struggles shall have ceased ; and carrion beasts, whose forms would fade into the darkness at but one word of Truth from thee, are sniffing boldly at thy prostrate form. Else, Son of Light! Cast off this spell that holds thee, and assume thy native state. Throw off the chains thy false beliefs have forged, and stand a Free Soul in the universe. All that is true and good, all that is glad and beautiful, is thine. Arise and claim it for thine own. Whate'er thou seest is thine own, to have and hold forever. The universe of good lies all within thy soul. Why seek it outwardly, where naught but disappointment can await thee? Thou art thy world; and these poor stars that shimmer in the sky are but reflections of the starry order in thyself. Out of thine Infinite Deeps shall come the good thou seekst. Its shadow floateth yonder on the earth, and taketh the form thou givest it. It changeth, passeth, and is gone : but in thy soul its essence doth remain, as from eternity it hath. Know then thy riches, Immortal Soul, and live in thine own domain. Be held no longer by these bonds of darkness. Stand bold and free amid the splendors of thy world, and ask no gifts from either gods or men. The gift thou seekst from another is already thine. The virtue thou dost pray for is thine own. The health thou seekst is but the shadow of that Health that glows within thee. Thou canst not pray for what thou knowest not ; and knowing is possession. AVaste not thy breath in idle asking, nor thy strength in vainly seeking ; but know that all is thine. Possess, enjoy thine own; and hold it not forever from thee by thy prayers. That 24 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. which thou seekst thou canst never find; that whicli thou askest thou canst never have, so long as thou dost seek and ask. No good can bless thee nor can evil harm save through thine own free act. The Soul, in plenitude of power, rules all the fates. On shelves and niches, in thy pantheons and temples, thy faculties do sit, as gods and images, endowed by thee with power to rule thy life. Above thee in the heavens roll the stars, which thou hast made to dictate or reveal thy fate ; but every star and planet is a symbol of the powers in thyself, which rule thee only by thy acquiescence. Thy gods are powerless, severed from thy will ; thy stars are rush-lights, flicker- ing idly in the skies, unless thy soul endows them with its power. The earth and heavens, and all that in them is, are but the symbols of Thyself, O mighty Soul ; and thou art ruler in thy universe, when' thou dost know Thyself. CONTESTS OF THE MIND. In all contests some must be defeated, save in the contests of the mind. There we may be always victori- ous if we will. Eew of us have any desire to conquer in that realm where alone we may be sure of victory. We enter upon other contests with great zeal, and lofty ambition to succeed; in spite of our knowledge that vic- tory is uncertain. Why should we not enter upon the contests of the mind with greater joy, when we know that victory is certain? We leave the contemplation of infinite riches within the soul to chase some phantom of joy without; and when we have been cheated and fooled and punished we mourn and chide the fates which have so afflicted us. We must learn to seek things without desire, to hold them without attachment. To have and not to have ; to hold without being held by our possessions : this is the secret of a hap|)y life. Let us cut all cords that bind us to the world. Let us live THE SOULS WAY OF LIFE. 25 free men, not chained to any ball of desire. Let us repel the things Ave attract, so that they may be held in delicate balance, and not be drawn upon us to overwhelm us. ]\[ost men are striving to attach themselves to the things of the world. The philosopher wishes to detach himself from them. They are gathering, he is scatter- ing; they are pursuing, he is retreating from the riches of this world. What most men desire as good he avoids as harmful. He sees the serpent underneath the flower which they are reaching forth to pluck. They wreak their faculties upon trade, politics, law, theology; and the world pays them in its own coin for all their service. But the treasure which they lay up the moths and rust destroy and thieves break through and steal. The phi- losopher aims to serve the soul, and has his pay in riches infinite, eternal. THE SOUL^S NATIVE AIE. MY soul, mighty is the power that draws thee toward the world of Things, but mightier is that which attracts thee heavenward. As the trees lift up their noble trunks^ defying the force that draws mere stones earthward, so my divine soul lifts herself up, and grows toward her native heaven, in spite of the forces of sense which hold the body to the earth. I know my native air. As the eagle soars toAvard the stars, so doth my soul soar heavenward. I leave all else, seeking my native free- dom. The things of this world charm me, in my moments of blindness, and hold me to the earth, Avhen I should be in the high air; but the True Vision comes, the Divine Light shines, and lo ! these things are shown as shadows, Avhich have no reality, no power to hold the soul. I know the sphere in Avhich Content is found. I know Peace and her habitation. With these would I dwell forevermore. O sons and daughters of God, come with me; learn of 26 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. your native realm; abandon these poor toys, which but beguile your childish hours, and look on Truth. Refuse these charms, these beguilements, which sting the heart at last with death. Dwell in the Divine Sphere, where Peace habits, where true Love is, where Wisdom makes her abode. Communing with these, thou shalt forget, O soul, the charms of the world, and know them no more forever. SAVING POWER OF TRUTH. I CANNOT overcome the enemies of the soul in open and direct conflict. My gaze hath power to give them life and strength. Prom me they draw their power to wound and slay. But let me turn my back on them, and see only the forms of Beauty, Purity, Love, and lo ! a wonder! these things I thought actual are no more. Like vanishing shadows in the sun's bright presence they have faded from my sight, and not a trace remains of the evil powers I fought so fiercely. Believe me, good friend, the demons you fight are all born of your own eyes. When you look to the left, there they appear; when you turn to the right hand, there your all-potent gaze creates them. Believe me, brother, they are Phantasma, Illusion, as are the demons of the drunkard. One glimpse of Truth will cleanse thine eyes so that thou shalt see these evil forms no more forever. Look on Truth and be saved. In thy finite strength thou canst do nothing. Truth alone can save thee. The Divine Ideal, born of the All-Perfect Mind, is thy true saviour. Look on That, and thou art saved. Invoke That, and It is with thee; a Presence of Light, a Divine Afflatus, a Spirit of Mighty Power, which can expel and utterly destroy all haunting demons. That is thy True Self, which thou hast forgotten. As one seeing his face for the first time in a mirror learns the appearance of his featureSj so one looking in the mirror of Truth perceives THE soul's way OF LIFE. 27 his real nature, that it is Divine, All-Perfect, one with the All-Perfect Life of God. FAITH AND KNOWLEDGE. The Intellect is curious, with a profane eagerness, to comprehend these mystic laws of the soul, in all their operation. But they do not wait on understanding, but on faith. As the vital processes of the body proceed without the understanding, so do the processes of Saving Life in the soul perform their divine work apart from the mind's knowledge of their ways. The Intellect must bow in humility before the mysteries of life. So much as shall be given us to know, that let us with humble gratitude receive ; but let not the intellect thwart the wise and good laws of the soul by any profane skep- ticism. The heart knows the reality of love, but the intellect may not comprehend its mystic workings. Paith and feeling have their rightful sphere in the human soul, and intellect must not refuse them full expression. Through Faith, or the consciousness of Spiritual Life, the soul achieves her grandest triumphs. Through Faith man is related to the Source of Life, the Infinite Spirit from which his personal life proceeds. Through him then flow currents of Divine Power, and signs attend him. PEKSONALITY. Without this vital relation to the Supreme Soul the individual is nothing. So greatly do men deceive them- selves, believing personality to be the Real Self, that a prophetic voice is needed to recall them to the truth. We recognize personality in every way, and in every way conceal the Real Self which is a manifestation of the Supreme. We name the personality, give it a place in the world, labor to make it immortal in fame, as if it were somewhat of itself. Let us refuse these false man- 28 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. ners. Acquiescing, for the convenience of society, in this recognition of the personal, let us within ourselves declare that personality is not; that names, titles, offices, conditions of existence, are but shadows, attendant upon the Real and Divine Self. My name, my place in the world, my occupation, are mere accidents, in the light of Eternal Being. I would forget this Person, which so boldly hath usurped my place in consciousness. By the senses, by inherited manners, by received traditions, it has installed itself in the world as a somewhat real. Its name is written on the public records, if on no higher scroll ; and although he may fail of having it inscribed on the roll of mortal fame, the Person will have it graven on a marble shaft at death, to give it an added lease of mortal life in the eyes of living men. But old Time smiles at these illusions of men, these endeavors to vivify with true life that which must be mortal. With slow but remorseless hand he crumbles the marble shaft, and reduces to dust the parchment scroll of Fame. The greatest Name at last is air and silence. The fond ambi- tions, the daring schemes of world-subduing, the mightiest and most successful endeavors to create an earthly immor- tality for personality, must fail at last. As the highest peaks are last to disappear when we travel from a moun- tain range, so the greatest souls are last to be forgotten as the race moves onward through the ages. Socrates, Plato, Buddha, Jesus, loom vastly in the thin ether of tradition, as the race moves on from the age in which they lived. But soon the dead level of oblivion will rise above these names too, and they shall be utterly forgot. Eternity has swallowed them, as it swallowed the myriads of lesser names of their time ; and over the vast sea of oblivion will still brood the One Life, which alone endures. Let us then be not deceived by this personality which seems so real, but know only the One Life, the Eternal, the Illimitable; surging like a shoreless sea through the THE soul's way OF LIFE. 29 ages of Eternity; lifting np its waves in the myriad- formed lives that bless the worlds; sinking into the dreamless calm of death, when the cycling ages have wrought out their mystic purpose; flowing, changing, ebbing from planet-shores, but ever reclining, majestic and vast, in the deeps of Infinity. THE POWEE OF THE SOUL. I SEE with open vision that to lift the mind into the region of Spirit, and hold it there in a persistent con- sciousness of that Presence in which we all live and move and have our being, must result in perfect harmony. Let us dwell in that Divine Atmosphere where Life is. It swims above and around us, vibrant with celestial light. Let us lift up our eyes unto it, and see its glory, and let the heart thrill with the music that flows out of it, and every discordant note in us shall fade into silence ; and Music, the Harmony of the celestial spheres, shall permeate us and saturate us with joy. I will not wait for some celestial influx to lift me into that supernal realm. I will lift myself, by the Divine Will which is in me. This Power waits in each one of us, and will respond to any effort. But to wait supinely, to halt praying upon the threshold of the Temple of Life, is to miss of our rightful heritage. It is for us to claim this Power as our own. It is within us, it is around us, it is above and below us, like the air we breathe. Why remain bereaved of it, when a single impulse of the Will can lift us into a position where we breathe it, drink it, eat it, absorb it through every pore ? This is the philosophy of life which the world waits for, groaning and wailing, beset and overcome by phantasms of every sort. My brother, my sister, let us make this Divine Power our own, and go forth to seek and save that which is lost. 30 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. POWER. He would be a foolish physician who should hope to find a community where none are sick. His aim is to have men well, but he does not wish to find them so. Until all are well, the true physician must go to those that are sick. Let success be the fruit of earnest labor. Only so can it be success. Napoleon loved the Alps because they were a means to victory. Caesar loved the terrors of Gaul and Germania, because there he might win laurels of suc- cess. Alexander having conquered the world was lost in grief, because there was no more scope for his valor. The soul craves contest, for the sake of conquest. To the brave and heroic man difficulties are always welcome. No task is great enough. The soul feels the- plenitude of her power, and would have worlds to wreak it on. O thou little pigmy man, what vast, far-reaching de- signs of conquest haunt thy soul ! Thou wilt reach forth thy hand and pluck down the stars of heaven. Thou wilt ride to power on the steed of desire, and contend with Fate for the mastery of the universe. Thy little power proves thee a brute, but thy desires do show thee to be a god. Not in having, but in hoping, is the strength of man. What he can do, is nothing : what he aspires and hopes to do, is everything. It is in expectation that the God shows himself in man. He will not accept this pigmy fate of his ; he will not be content with the poor measure of power granted him in time ; but he would drink the sea of space, he would absorb the Kosmos, he would have Fate his handmaid, to decree his will. This, man, is the prophecy of thy destiny. So much as thou canst grasp in thy desire, thou shalt have to hold forever. Aspiration is Creation becoming conscious. THE soul's way OF LIFE. 31 KESUKEEXI. I MAKE this resolve to-day, as I have made it many times before, that I will this day renounce sin and death, and prisons and tombs, and shackles and drag-chains; and that bursting forth out of these grave-clothes and mummy-wrappings, I will come forth into a new world, and live as a man arisen from the dead. But weak and infirm will ! How shall I spur thee to the act thou hast not heart to do ? Weak flesh, obey the mighty impulse of the spirit ! Trembling limbs, be strong to carry me forth from this charnel-place. I see dead men's bones around me. Skulls, fleshless and horrible, show their teeth and stare at me with their empty eye-sockets. A horrible damp closes me in. I cannot longer breathe here in this deadly atmosphere. Let me forth ! Open, thou massive door of death ! I will out of this tomb ! hold me who dares ! I hear the voice of Life, saying " Arise, come forth. Beauty and Truth await thee ; Purity like the lily's petal ; Wisdom which is the insight and appre- hension of the Kosmic Laws; these await thy coming forth into the Arisen Life." Life, I come. Eeceive me, bless me, give me my por- tion of inheritance. Henceforth I am thine, and thou art mine. I go to do thy work. Go thou with me, proving thyself by the signs that follow me. To-day I consecrate myself to Truth and Beauty and Love. I renounce the world, the flesh, the devil; and choose for my portion these three: faith, hope, love; and the greatest of these is love. OUR DIVINE RELATIONSHIP. The prophet is one who perceives his unity with God. When that vision comes, the heavens and earth are opened, the immeasurable deeps are made luminous, and night becomes day. The spirit of prophecy, which is the 32 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. waking of the divine consciousness in man, fires liis heart, and he pours forth a burden of divine wisdom, which men rightly accept as the revelation of the Most High. God speaks in that voice of his, proceeding out of the deeps of the soul. There is no other revelation than this. We may look for some physical communication, but shall not find it. God works upon nature and man not from without, but from within ; at the center, not at the circumference. The oak proceeds from the acorn. The man of earth is but a manifestation, complete or par- tial, of the spiritual man, who is the son of God. The highest attitude of the soul is unity and identity with God. " I am the divine, all-perfect Life : I know not sin, disease, pain, imperfection. These are not of Me. I brood over the world, my heart beating with every other heart, — beating in every other heart; for my heart is the Heart of the Universe." So thinking, man becomes God, and divine power is his. Could he but hold that divine mood and make it constant, there should be another Christ, God made manifest in the flesh : and miracles should be as common as suiirise and sunset. The redemption of the world waits on the recognition of this truth. While we see men as trees walking, we shall not reform them by however much philanthropy. But when we see them as sons of God, knowing not what they yet shall be, we set going the divine currents in their life, and work with God to redeem them to Him- self. Beneath every mask, however hideous, lies the face of a son of God. We must pray that our eyes may be opened so that we may see through these masks of flesh, and pierce to the divine soul within. My brother, you are not the man you seem. If you do not know yourself, I know you, and God knows you. Let me reveal you to yourself. Let me hold before your eyes a mirror of Truth, that you may see yourself therein, and know that you are indeed a child of God. Forget this THE soul's way OF LIFE. 33 character that you have been masquerading in. It is not yourself, it is but a part you have been playing. Dwell in the thought of your divine relationship, your divine character. As this image is shadowed forth in your mind, it will become manifest in the flesh. Thou art divine, and shalt know thyself and show thyself for what thou art. THE SOUL'S FREEDOM. I AM determined to realize my ideals, and live after my best perceptions. When I think of living otherwise, life seems flat, stale and unprofitable ; and I fain would leave it for an existence more starry. I cannot content myself with mere existence, eating, drinking and sleep- ing, even with health as my portion ; but I would carve in this wondrous marble of the flesh my best concep- tions of beauty, truth and good. I see ideals of a beauty for man that would make him the fit comrade of flowers, stars, moonbeams ; and I sense a joy thrilling through the universe, sounding forth in the rich song of the mocking-bird, the hum of busy bees, the laughter and prattle of children, that would fill the soul of man with the very music of the spheres, if he would but open himself to its divine strains. Why should we mope and weep, and chide the fates that have made our life what it is ? Are not even the fates subject to the spirit within us ? Let us arise in the might of the soul, and assert our sovereignty over all things temporal. The soul is not conditioned. She is free, with a divine freedom. The ailments of the flesh, the arrows of for- tune, she does not heed. She wears an armor that no weapon on earth can pierce. THE SOUL OMNIPOTENT. What is my part in the redemption of this body from its weight of sin and disease ? Is this achieved only 34 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. through, the grace of God, as pious people say ? or have I some active part in this consummation so devoutly to be wished ? I seem to hear a Voice replying to my earnest, prayer- ful question : " Thou art thine own redeemer. Within thee sleeps the power to achieve thy highest wish. Awake, thou that sleepest; put on thy divinely given power ! Seize the scepter which is proffered thee, and as a monarch on his throne command thou the elements of thy life, and they shall obey thee. Speak, and thy will shall be accomplished. The dream of perfect life which haunts thee is not given to mock thee with ever- deferred reality. It is the working of the Creative Spirit within thee that fills thy soul with the splendid vision of a perfect life. That is the union of God and Man ; the point of contact between the individual and his Source. The All-Perfect hath His habitation in thy heart of hearts. 'Tis the splendor of His perfect being which thou beholdest within thy soul. Let that shining Glory fill the temple of thy thought until all things in the world about thee reflect its refulgent beams. The light of the sun and moon and stars, the glory of morning and evening, are borrowed from that Light which shines within thee. Open thine eyes and gaze upon this Divine Glory until all imperfection, all shadow of sin and dis- ease fade away, and thy being is like the noonday heavens, when not a cloud is seen. So shalt thou be perfect, even as thy Father in heaven is perfect." THE POWEPv OF FAITH. Faith is the elevation of the soul into the realm of Divine Truth. There it perceives Peality, and communes with God. When my head is bathed in that Divine Light I believe all things are possible to the Soul. Mountains shall be moved at her command. The sick shall be made whole, the dead shall be made alive. The Kingdom of THE soul's way OF LIFE. 35 Heaven is taken by force when the soul besieges it in this high mood. I will not plead nor petition; I will claim my own, and yield it not. When I can see my own, I possess it ; but not before. To pray believing is to pray perceiving ; and perception is possession. This is the law of Prayer. THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE SELF. The ultimate of all education should be the knowledge of the soul's real nature. I must know myself for an ex- pression of the Divine Life before I can unfold my highest possibilities. What is the true knowledge ? The knowl- edge of the Self. Who shall make me acquainted with my Self ? Let me sit at his feet and learn of him ; for through that knowledge I shall attain the Perfect Life. Let no man prate to me of atoms or elements, to show me that I am a child of the Dust. If I were of the Dust I should believe this lie ; but the soul in me refuses it. I am of the Divine, All-Perfect Life, and I listen enchanted to the Truth concerning my real nature. My soul stirs with joy at the sound of this high music. It is the music of the spheres, interpreted in speech. It enchants and ravishes me. I am lifted up at the sound of it, and spread my wings in my native air. My soul refuses to know sin or disease. These are not of her, who wears the Mantle of Light and the Crown of Divinity. The illusions of Time shall not deceive her, who has seen the face of Truth. In the consciousness of my real nature, I go forth strong for any conflict. I cannot be van- quished, I cannot be hurt, by any weapon in the armory of Time. My shield and armor are words of Truth. My weapons are right affirmations of the nature of the Self. Truth is the bride of the soul. To her I make my vows of eternal allegiance. To her I sacrifice all things. 36 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. She is my bride from eternity. I loved lier in the worhl's morning, and I love her now. AVhen I know that my Self is Divine and All-Perfect, I am born again, and begin to grow into my divine man- hood. So complete is the transformation which this con- sciousness may work in us that we may indeed renounce the old self, the mortal self, with all its relations, and go forth as a new creature, into new works, by new ways. Except ye are born again ye can in no wise enter into the kingdom of God. Flesh and blood, as such, cannot in- herit the kingdom. Only spirit can inherit or achieve it. It is beyond the reach of mortal power. Only the soul knows the Way to the Perfect Life. She knows it be- cause she is of it. When we look earthward, with the e3^es of physical science, we cannot see the truth which is mighty to save. It is above, not below, and perceived only by the soul, in uplifted prayer. There is but one Book in which we may read the truth ; that is the Book of the Soul. That Book is within, and only the Soul can read it. Therein are the words of life, which are able to make wise unto salvation. THE IDEAL LIFE. I CATCH glimpses of a life too beautiful and sweet to be lived upon this degraded earth. The ways of men will not suffer it. Here and there some seer has caught a view of it, and fled to the wilderness that he might begin to live it. It makes hideous and ugly the life of society, and mean and deformed all the ways of men. It is too high ; I cannot attain unto it ; and yet, sweetly does it enchant me with its beauty, and I fain would leave all else to follow it. I perceive that it is one with the life of nature ; that if a man should live it, he would be one with the beauty of the dawn and sunset, the glory of autumnal foliage, the purity and sweetness of flower- strewn meadows. His voice should suggest the notes of THE SOUL S WAY OF LIFE. 31 birds, and all sweet sounds which he has gathered unto his being in his long pilgrimage in nature. The light of the stars should gleam in his eyes, the color of the rose glow in his cheek. Like a fair lily, like a stately tree, maid and youth should picture forth divine purity and strength. Alas, that this fair life should be alien to man, or he to it! that he should have wandered so far from the Father's house, and so rioted and reveled in the senses, and so companioned with swine, that he can no longer perceive the beauty of this life ! We become drunk with the wine of custom, and cannot with our befuddled senses see the beauty of a true life. We go with the multitude, and are swept along in the tide of custom, and whirled about until our dizzy soul knows not its true center and standpoint in the world. Once let a percex^tion of this true life permeate us, and all our ways shall conform to it. Clothing, food, shelter, manners, all should adjust themselves to this new ideal. I am done forever Avith the conventional life of the world. If I stay here on this planet longer, it will be not as the individual my friends of former days have known, but as the one some few of my most intimate friends have sometimes seen, through the masks which I have worn among them. I am pledged to live the divine life, the ideal life ; whether here in this unfavor- able world or in one more stellar and genial I cannot now say. The soul has long whispered into my carnal ear her high monitions, and poured into my throbbing heart her revelations of celestial life ; and at last, after many years of dallying and delay, I have decided to obey her voice, come what may. I hope thus to justify the love and good opinions of my true friends, and reveal something of that higher nature which they have been so good as to endow me with. 88 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. THE BETTER WAY. This poor, mean life that engages us ; how far below our possibilities ! Full of pain, grief, regrets, disap- pointments ! We love, and lose; we achieve, and are bereaved ; we hope, and are disappointed ; we plan, and are thwarted ; we sow, and reap not ; and amid it all we ask, " Why am I alive ? Why was I born ? Why called into being, to suffer and writhe ? " But there is a better way, a better way. The good Master of Life hath not ordained this suffering. It is incidental to the true order of things. The will of an enlightened soul can dispel it all. Because I fall, shall I never hope to stand erect ? Does that slip prove that legs were not given to stand upon, or that they cannot be trusted in their office ? I will study truth and self- control. I believe that a fairer and more joyous life waits for man when he has learned the laws of living. Man has forgotten his true nature. He has drunk some stupefying potion, which has caused him to forget his divine origin. Arouse, ye sleepers ! Sleep no more, with troubled dreams ! Life is action ! It is the expression of Truth. THE SOUL'S BLOSSOMING. I WISH to face life earnestly, not pretending to more virtue or wisdom than I possess. I know full well how poorly and meanly I live. When I lift up mine eyes to behold the possibilities of man I am ashamed of my best achievements. I wallow when I should soar. I crawl and creep when I should stand erect. I peep and wink and avoid God's eye, for I am not pure enough to look Him in the face. I dare not stand forth in the world and utter my highest praise of truth and virtue, because men would at once ask, "Why then art thou not their disciple ? " I shame myself by every beautiful utter- THE soul's way OF LIFE. 39 aiice. AVheii I speak of Beauty, I blush. When I praise Virtue and Purity, it is with reservation. I say : " There is a life possible to man whose beauty is one with stars and flowers; but it is too high; I cannot come nigh unto it. I have seen it, how lovely it is ; I have dreamed of it in my night-slumbers ; and in the midst of worldliness and sensuality the vision of it has alternately cheered me and cast me down. But expect me not to live this life. Have mercy on me and pardon my shortcomings. I am better for seeing and saying these things, and you for hearing them ; but as I do not look for its full mani- festation in you, so neither do you look for it in me. Let us pray, brothers, let us pray." And so, with preaching and listening to preaching we make shift to live, and avoid the possibilities of life. But not always shall the Spirit of God strive with man. Slowly we are lifted above savagery, above barbarism, into Beauty, Truth, Good. As the lily's stem, rising above the ooze, drawn by the light overhead, at last unfolds its pure and beautiful flower ; so does this plant Man, with roots fixed in the soil of savagery, rise slowly age after age, and, drawn by the light of Truth, it sometime unfolds its beauteous blossom; and we say, "a god! a god! surely, this is no man!" But it is a man, —the blossom, long-prepared- for, of the race-plant. And so, even in our budding season, when darkness is .around us, and the divine life in us is struggling with oppressive conditions, we may feel stirring in us the forces which are shaping the future flower. Look up, then, my brother, and open thy bosom to the warm sunshine that shall invite thee into thy perfect un- foldment. Thinkst thou that the flower can draw purity and sweetness from that ooze, and that there is no divine chemistry in thee to convert these unclean elements in the soil of thy experience into a divine and beautiful character? Art thou not also a plant in God's earth, 40 ^ LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. growing to perfection through his all-embracing Laws ? Ah ! No outer garb of thine can rival the splendor of the lily's petal ; but when the blossom 6f thy soul has unfolded in all its beauty, no lily was ever arrayed in such a glory. It is by a solitary communion with the Spirit of Life that we come into these visions of Beauty and Good. In society, such as it commonly is in our cities and towns, we do but mix and mingle in degradation. The impurity of each re-enforces that of every other, and there is no vision of the ideal. But in solitary communion, when the eyes are closed to the unclean things of our society, and the soul looks with open vision upon Eeality, then come into the heart the vesper songs of Truth and Beauty, and the man's whole being is filled with a divine mel- ody. In nature I find refreshment and continual renewal. Standing under the sweet scented pines I am opened to an influx of Beauty from that Spirit whose creations these dark forest brothers are. Now, my brother, you are saying to yourself : " This man sings loftily ; I like his chanting ; but how shall I listen to this fine music ? I must be about my proper business. I have fields to plow and plant ; or sugar to weigh and calico to measure ; or gold to count and reckon interest upon ; or quarrels of my neighbors to settle be- fore the court ; or I must dig in the bowels of the earth to find the fuel which warms his hearth; or delve after the oil by whose light he writes these fine things ; or I must shut myself in a dark and smutty shop, where steel hammers and whirling wheels are molding out the very pens he writes his visions with ; and how shall I listen to this fine music when my ears are so filled with the din of machinery ? How shall I keep my eye on this vision which he pictures to me when it must be upon the task I am performing ? All men cannot take to the woods, to stand dreaming under pine trees, to gaze through the THE soul's way OF LIFE. 41 branches at these stars of the ideaL Work must be done, and that hard work. Burdens are heavy and grievous to be borne. I have bad men to work with. I am bruised and insulted daily. My manhood is trampled on by my taskmaster ; and the clank of my chains drowns all this melodious music. '^ Yes, my poor brother, I know what you would say, I know how hard it is to connect this fine thinking with the affairs of the world. Have I myself not confessed that I cannot see these beautiful visions in the midst of the world's tumult ? That I must go away from all secular noises, into the holy silence, before I can hear the loftiest music of the soul ? But, my brother, do not fret thy soul over this difficulty. Listen when thou canst to this high music of thy life, and when the noise and uproar of the world subside for a moment, listen ; and this music that sings to thee will steal into thy work, and slowly the harsh noises of the world will yield to it, and sometime, perchance, all shall be converted into divinest harmony. Have I not hinted to thee this possibility ? I know that this sweet music follows me from the silent woods even into the city streets ; and the rattle of carts and the voices of striving men and all the uproar of the street, do meet and mingle with it, and yield to its masterful har- mony. I see the possibility of a labor that shall be as glad and musical as the motion of the spheres. Do you not know that all the forces of nature act according to the laws of harmony ? that the stars sing in the heavens, the plants make music in their growth, the sunbeams sing in their flight, and that all sounds at last are musical ? The hum of the bee and the song of the bird are but an organic and conscious manifestation of the melody that is in all the forces of nature. And so I conceive that the action of man should be musical and glad. His life should be a strain of harmony ; and whether he hammers or digs, plows or reaps, measures or weighs, counts or pleads, he 42 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. should sing in his work, not only by voice, but by hand and brain. This is the possibility that awaits us, you and I, my brother ; and let not my inability to carry my preaching into practice deter you from making the attempt. It is not impossible, it is not even so difficult as we believe. If each morning we lift up our soul to listen for that divine Harmony which sings out of the Creative Life, and let that set the pitch for all our daily action, we shall find this heavenly music stealing into the day, redeeming it, making every hour musical. Do not be afraid to talk with me, my brother. I am no priest, talking at thee from a position of assumed superi- ority. I am thy fellow-man, of like passions with thee, and my speech is halting, from my own imperfection. I cannot say what I would, for my character Avill not sup- port it. I might put on an armor of grandiloquence, of dignity, of superior virtue ; but I have not proved it. I am content. Let me speak to thee, with thee, not at thee ; and together we shall approach nigher to that Purity and Beauty Avhich we could not so easily find alone. IDEAL TAEGETS. When the true perception comes, we shall know that these things which we are striving for are but as the tar- get to the bowman, which gives direction and stimulus to his effort. It is not to hit that bull's-eye which we have set up that we are born into the world. Nay ! Nay ! A larger ambition than that must possess us. Let us some- times loose our shaft at the heavens themselves. That way is scope for our strength of arm. We shall not fetch up against a wall shooting that direction. What matters it that we cannot see what becomes of our arrow ? Not the shot, but the shooting, is what concerns us. Away with these petty targets that we have set up, — THE soul's AVAY OF LIFE. 43 law, politics, the church, philosophy, art, war, commerce and the like. Let us. string our bow for a longer range. Who knows what mark there is beyond all these ? Is it only shooting in the air ? Believe it not, young man, zealous and brave. Shade thine eyes with thy hand, and look long and steadfastly beyond the mark thy brother is aiming at, and something shall appear in the far dis- tance, dimly at first, but growing more clear as thou gaz- est, and thou shalt have a mark worthy of thy strength and ambition. We suffer from myopia and astigmatism, every one of us. We have looked so long and steadfastly at these things that are near us that we seem to have lost the power of seeing things at a distance. Those ideals that float dimly in the distant horizon of every life, we have lost sight of utterly, and most of us do not believe they exist. The copper penny before our eye hides the whole heaven, with its countless golden stars. Let us dare to put away for awhile this cent, that we may see something of the infinite riches above and around us. Who shall dare to estimate the soul's possibilities in terms of dol- lars ? Here is a god. " But how much can he earn ? Can he sell wheat ? Can he manage a railroad ? " No. " Then he is no god, and we will have none of him." Young man, decide now, this day and hour, whether thou wilt serve God or mammon. THE SOUL'S LEADING. What is the secret of spiritual power? Is there no means whereby we may realize in our lives those high ideals which charm us in our moments of illumination? We are caught up, we see a vision of beautiful living, we hear notes of a celestial music, we are ravished and drawn heavenward by a mystic spell; but the vision fades, the notes die away, and we descend again to a prosaic level of life, and engage in affairs which are not consistent with 44 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. the life that was revealed to us. How shall we maintain this high altitude of thought and vision? Must we be forever fooled and mocked with visions which we cannot realize? Better be blind than be shown a momentary glimpse of a beauty which cannot be ours. I believe that these high j)erceptions may be made practical. I believe that the soul knows her way to this divine life, and that if we should follow her dictates we might achieve it. But we are so loth to trust the soul ; we so depend on custom and tradition, on the ways of our fathers and our neigh- bors ; that we do not find these visions of ideal life grow- ing into conduct. If we could but seize the scepter of power over our fears and our doubts, our respect for the opinions of our friends and neighbors, we might become emperors in a mighty realm. I know that I am daily denying the admonitions of the soul. I slight her whis- pered warnings, I refuse to follow her leadings, and still I chide life and wonder that its highest blossoms and fruit do not fall into my hands. There is but one way out of this labyrinth of delusions which we call the world. It is to follow the soul. The soul is all-wise. She knoweth the creative laws, and the secrets of life. Let us learn of her, and be wise unto salvation. Great is the reward of the first step in obedi- ence to the soul. There is no other master worthy to be obeyed. Kings of the earth, lords of the heavens, are to be neglected for loyalty to the soul. I know not any lord but the soul, I acknowledge no other master, no other saviour. It is only as any man points to the soul and exhorts to a complete obedience of her slightest commands, that he becomes a helper and saviour of men. These men whom we deify and adore, whom we first crucify and afterwards worship, have their ascendency over our minds because they sought it not, but pointed to the soul as lord and master. This, then, must we do, if we would be saved : flee from all customs and traditions, renounce all THE soul's way OF LIFE. 45 laws and commandments made of men, abandon reliance upon the established authorities, and follow implicitly the soul in all her leadings. She is older than Time, more ancient than custom. She was before Law, before the Church, before tlie world itself, with all its standards of thought and action. She will counsel wisely, and with an infinite patience and love she will lead us to the divine and perfect life. Let us pray for strength to be weak in her presence. Let us ask for the wisdom to be foolish when she speaks, that we may not set our mortal wisdom against her divine insight. Verily, the wisdom of the intellect is foolishness with the soul. Babes and children who obey the soul may lead the wisest and strongest of the earth. THE SOUL'S VISIONS. Man is gifted with a divine insight which, if he should follow it, would lead him into paths of perfect peace and happiness. Let me make this day anew a vow which I have many times before made and broken: that I will henceforth obey this divine voice in every particular; that I will hold before my mind constantly the image of my divine and real self, as a pattern for my daily life; that I will say nothing, do nothing, think nothing, which will not harmonize with that divine ideal; that I will constantly strive to see more clearly that divine image, and to hear more distinctly that divine voice which speaks within; that I will be strong with the strength of that divine self; that I will know it to be the true saviour and redeemer, and call upon it in every time of need; that I will no longer seek in outer things that help and strength which come only from this divine source; that I will rise from every fall seven times renewed in strength because of contact with the source of all strength. I would live the divine and ideal life; realize my dreams, my visions of day and night, my insights of 46 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. divine truth. I would be a follower of the soul's lead- ings, a disciple of the divine oracle, which speaks dis- tinctly within the shrine of the soul. What is life without the ideal? It is a brute struggle for mere existence. I would not live to merely convert so many ounces of food and drink per day into bone and muscle. I would live to paint in flesh and action the visions of divine beauty that haunt me constantly. I would somehow utter and reveal my visions. I would paint them, carve them in stone, sing them, transpose them into divine harmonies, chant them in sacred verse, speak them forth with power of the spirit, in many tongues. In every way by which the soul expresses her inner life, her dreams and visions, would I reveal these dreams of the beautiful and the divine which haunt me daily and will not be dismissed unuttered. I cannot ignore these divine voices which whisper and plead with me. I cannot be deaf to their entreaty. The world calls me with siren voices to join in its mad revels, its strife for the things which fade and die even in the grasp of those who attain them. But I cannot follow these voices. They lure to destruction. They are sweet for a day, a year, and then they turn to harshest discord. They burn in the ears that listen to them. Like a false appearance in the sky, these visions of success after worldly fashions do fade and dissipate, and the blank sky is left. Let me know these illusions for what they are. I would not spend my life's best strength following after a mirage, only to find in my last hours of fading life that the vision is naught but mist. Let me cleave fast to Reality 5 follow after Truth and Beauty and Good; and strive only for that which Time cannot reach with his sharp blade. I am not of this world. It is my school and playground, but not my abiding-place. I was before this world. I cannot be deceived by its appearances. I know them for what they are. I look on space and time unmoved, for I am greater than they. My being is from THE soul's way OF LIFE. 47 eternity unto eternity. I play my part upon the stage of the world, and retire again to mine own abode. I must not believe in this part which I am playing, these lines which I am appointed to utter. I put on the robe of flesh, I enter the stage, I bow to the world, and ask for its tolerance of my poor acting; but I do not believe in the reality of what I do. I am king or peasant, philoso- pher or fool, as my Master of plays shall appoint unto me ; but I know that I am acting a part, and that after the play is over I shall retire from the stage, and assume again my real character. This mask which I have assumed, who shall penetrate it, and recognize my real features? Who shall hear behind the voice of the actor the tones of the real self ? Who shall know my acting for what it is, a mere appearance, a caricature, a pretence, and behold as face to face my real self behind all this make-believe? But let me play well this part which has been assigned me, and then depart in peace. I know how false is the joy of the actor in the applause of the multi- tude. I care not for that noisy applause. The clapping of hands, the bestowing of the laurel, the obeisance of the multitude, I know how empty and profitless these are, and I shall not be betrayed by them. I have one Master, and that is the One who assigned me my part. To Him I will look for approbation, for a nod or significant look, as a token that I am playing well my part. But to another I may not look, for the spectator does not know what part has been assigned to me, nor what lines I have yet to utter. THE VOICE OE THE SOUL. Sweet beyond saying is the voice of the soul which speaks to me in musical tones, charming me to follow it. I must be ever alert and attentive that I may lose no faintest accent of that divine Voice. Amid the clamor- ous voices of the world, we lose that divine Voice, and do 48 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. not hear its whispered admonitions. But in the silence of solitude, when the soul retires within its inner sanc- tuary and listens, the divine tones are heard again, and joy is ours. I long with a great yearning for the com- panionship of that Spirit which I can find only in solitude. In the midst of society, so-called, I mourn for the absence of that One Friend whose presence alone makes the true society. Among men it is not often that I find compan- ionship. My hours of deepest loneliness are often those spent in the midst of what would be called most pleasant and agreeable companionship. I am alone in the parlor, in the public street, in the church or lecture-room ; but never alone in the wild forest, on the mountain-top, or by the shore of the great sea. Who is this one Companion whose presence makes populous the solitary place, and bright the deep retreat in the forest ? Is it not the Uni- versal Soul which was our abode before we came forth into the world? The connection between mortal man and his divine self is very tenuous, and in the thick ►atmosphere of worldly life it is often lost sight of and forgotten. Then comes over the life of man a dark eclipse, and the stars of joy are all blotted from his heavens. Then fades the bright light of day, and he mourns and laments, not knowing what it is that he has lost. He seeks in many places and by many methods to regain what he has lost, not knowing that when he finds his real self he shall find all good and truth. THE ILLUMINED LIFE. If I might be so favored I would write nothing but sentences of light. The world is full of literature, so- called, which appeals to the senses, which aims only to amuse and entertain, or, at best, to instruct the intellect. But mankind is sick, suffering, struggling with forces of evil, going down daily into hells of darkness. In the THE soul's way OF LIFE. 49 midst of this universal struggling I would raise my voice ta declare the Way, the Truth and the Life. There is truth that can save, if we could but see it and obey its leadings. This universe is not so mad that a frenzy of pain is its aim and object. The beautiful, serene Order should bring forth joy and peace. Man is the highest fruit on the wondrous tree of Life. It is not for him to live a warped and stunted life, but a life fair and beautiful. I would seek truth and live it ; not alone for myself, but for my fellow-men. Mystery unfathomable surrounds all human life. We are blind ground-worms, not know- ing life beyond our daily experience. Vast heavens of Light are overhead, but our eyes do not look that way. Beneath and around us is Darkness, as of endless Night. Faint intimations of our true nature break in upon our mist-wrapped minds, but we have no clear, persistent sense of our divine possibilities. I am convinced that there is a life all joy and peace, all air and sunshine. The cares of the world do not enter therein. Grief, anxiety, pain, are not in that life. It is not in the future only that we may find that life, but now, in Time. The harmony and order of Kosmos invite us to live that life. Flowers and singing birds, forests and streams, blue skies and sunsets, all invite us. Its beauty is but poorly hinted in the tints of the morn- ing sky; its joy but meanly echoed in the universal music of nature. The soul that is filled with the joy and peace of that life knows not any fear. Serene as the midnight stars, it shines forth in the deep gloom of the world, to draw upward the eyes and souls of men. Peace that passeth understanding abides with the soul which lives that divine life. All things are put under foot, every enemy of the soul is vanquished, through the Divine Power ; and the last great enemy. Death, is robbed of every arrow which 50 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. could pierce the heart with pain. Light, beautiful light, shines ever round that soul, and the mists which once clouded it are now made glorious in the heavens by the beams of its divine knowledge. To find the Way to that divine life, to achieve the strength which can live it, is the highest aim of any soul. The successes of the world can but poorly repay the soul that loses that pearl of greatest price. SELF-GOVERNMENT. In his famous letter to the newly appointed emperor Trajan, Plutarch says : " Let your government commence in your own heart, and lay the foundation of it in the command of your passions." If this advice is good for an emperor it is good for a citizen, — especially for a citizen of a republic, wherein self-government has been elevated to the dignity of a social system. But self-gov- ernment does not mean to the citizen of the republic what it meant to the philosophical Plutarch. With us, self-government stops with voting for some other to gov- ern us. We imagine that we are free, when we have the liberty to choose our master. We are tolerant of slavery, so that we may wear whose chains we will. Self-govern- ment, in its full application, does away with all govern- ment that is not of self. But on what heroic virtues must such government be based ! There are those who would abolish institutional government at once, and thus leave all men free to govern themselves. But this would be chaos come again. Self-government must be earned by self-discipline. It cannot be had for the asking or the giving. It is not anarchy we want. We want more government, not less ; but that government should pro- ceed from within, not from without. We say that all just government is derived from the consent of the gov- erned. But this is not government, it is co-operation. What I do of myself, and what I delegate to another, are THE soul's way OF LIFE. 51 equally my own acts. If no acts were clone by the state save those which each individual therein might sanction,, there should be an ideal society. But government begins with the subjugation of the minority by the majority. Then there are two classes ; governors and governed, masters and slaves, tyrants and oppressed. But, we say, no man can have absolute freedom. If the decrees of the state are to his likiug, the decrees of God are not. He woidd have sunshine, and it rains. He would have cool weather, and it is hot ; or warm, and it is cold. The sun will not shine at his bidding, nor the clouds pass away at his command. Life and death will not obey him, though all else might suit his will. So man must early learn to accept what he does not like ; or, to like what he must accept ; and it is the office of philosophy to teach him this. If in a state of society where absolute freedom is impossible to any member a man would have peace of mind, he must learn to submit to the inevitable; for in so doing, he does only what he needs must do in abso- lute solitude. Wherever he may be, man must practice self-government ; whether he be a citizen of a kingdom, under the power of a tyrant, or of a republic under the power of a majority, or of the universe under its laws and forces ; everywhere he will need to practice self- control, and learn to adjust himself to conditions which he can neither change nor avoid. Those who would either govern or be governed well, must then study the art of self-control. Though we should be the most absolute prince, with no subject who should dare or wish to disobey our will, yet should we find self-control to be the most necessary practice for us. The tyrant at last finds no subject so difficult to govern as himself; and many have succeeded well enough with others, only to fail at last with self. In the assumption of civil authority guardsmen, soldiers and senate wait to 52 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. carry out the imperial will. A thousand hands are eager to do the appointed task ; and though the wish be foolish, there are enough foolish subjects to carry it into quick effect. But no array of allied powers can aid the man in his government of self. No soldiers can prick the mind into proper action. No senate can stay the rush of hot blood from the heart in anger. The prince finds himself at last a subject, compelled to obey laws greater than his own. He who has so smartly taken the scepter finds it powerless in his hands. The crown upon his head is a hollow mockery, for it is not the symbol of a true power. The man cannot command himself; how then shall he command others ? It is seldom, almost never, that the prince learns the mockery of his office ; for his subjects have not discov- ered their own freedom. Let the people learn that there is no government but the government of self, and the fine plumage of the princely bird quickly droops. Whether the instituted power be vested in a king, an emperor, a senate, or a mere majority of equals, it thus appears for what it is ; a dream, a phantasy, a ghost, with no terrors but for children. Then legislation is co-operation, and the majority assumes no power over the minority. To this complexion all government must come at last. But it does not mean anarchy. It means a stricter government than any vested in official digni- ties. By as much as the laws of the universe are stricter and more perfect than the laws of men, by so much will self-government, when it is attained, be more perfect in its results than any government of men, however well conceived or executed. As for those things which are inevitable, and to which all must equally submit, philosophy can teach us how to bear them so that no misfortune sliall come to us ; for, as Seneca says, to bear misfortune nobly is good fortune. There will be need of the precepts of Stoicism in any 53 condition of life. The only freedom, at last, is the free- dom of the mind. That, no tyrant has ever yet abridged. "The emperor may chain my leg," said Epictetus, "but not even Zeus himself can chain my mind." The free- dom of the mind is the best gift of God to man. Life itself were a worthless gift, without that other. Life, with slavery to its bad conditions, would be no gift worthy of a benevolent God; but with freedom of the mind, it is divinely beautiful and good. A GOSPEL OF NATURE. I BELIEVE that this age needs nothing so much as a gospel of Nature ; a philosophy which shall bring man back to the great Order from which he has wandered so far. Our life is wretched and mean because we have clothed ourselves in illusions. Nature, Reality, is put wholly by, and false opinions are set up to be worshiped. Our education is false, because it does not lead us to nature, but to the opinions of our fellow-men. Find how Paul lived, what Moses spoke, what the state decrees, what society demands, what our neighbors, who are respectable and of proper virtue, do, and follow that. Dare not to look for yourself into the laws of the soul, and to live after those laws. So speaks the guardian of to-day, and most of us obey the order. But I feel a cer- tain leading within me which, to follow, would take me very far from the ways of men. Am I right to thus separate myself from my good neighbors, and refuse to live in their fashion ? Who am I, that I should depart alone into the wilderness, to make a Way of the Lord therein ? Is it possible that after so many centuries of life there remains any new way to be found by me ? May I hope to find any new path through this jungle that we call life, when so many brave men have explored it before me ? I ask myself these questions most gravely; and it 54 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. seems to me that they should give me pause. And yet^ when I am discontented with my present way of life; when I feel that I am at the end of my road, and that unless I do make a break into the jungle I shall merely stand here dawdling forever; when I feel that to live longer in the way I now live is merely to exist, to pass time, to dally with eternity, what shall I do ? I cannot content myself with these customs of my neighbors. Their food, dress, habits, manner of life, speech, opinions, all seem to be unworthy of earnest men. Intimations of a life as beautiful as the flowers, as fra- grant, as pure, come to me faintly out of the Silence. I seem to hear a Voice saying : — " Live what thou seest ; live what thou seest ; and other visions yet shall be vouchsafed thee. Wait not for full and perfect revelation. Live the life and thou shalt know the doctrine. What truth thou seest, live, and act, and speak it forth; and when thou hast pub- lished one word another shall be given thee. Perform- ance is the price of truth forever. Use thy talent. Bury it not. Increase it, and more shall be given thee. Be faithful to the small things thou now seest, and thou shalt be made ruler over many." TIME AND THE SOUL. Another year has opened, according to the reckoning of men ; and with great celebration the world observes the event. But to me the change from one figure to another in the calendar is not significant. Human life should not be measured by years, but by achievements. What new deed may I record this day ? If some- thing noble, it is indeed a new year for me ; a new era, or cycle, has begun in me. But for the revo- lutions of moons, or the spinning of the earth on its axis, I care not. Shall I celebrate the motions of the clock's hands ? That is the full significance of New THE soul's way OF LIFE. 55 Year's day to some persons. A new year! Were not tlie old year good enough for what business they had to do? But I suspect that even in the dullest minds the daAvn of a new year in the calendar is somehow associated with new effort, new ideals ; as witness the common custom of making new resolutions at that time. This indeed would constitute a new year ; the birth of a higher ideal in the mind ; for years and cycles do at last turn upon the achievements of men. Do we not begin our modern €ra with the advent of a divinely wise and loving Man ? So many years before Christ; so many after; not so many since the conjunction of certain stars, or the eclipse of a particular constellation. So do stars and worlds, with all their motions, take rank secondary to a sublime human event. 'Tis the history of the soul that makes Time significant. In its last analysis, science is the study of nature in its rela- tions to Man. The zealous student may think that the fossil which he digs from the earth is of interest in itself ; but if he will consider it with care, he will find that its significance really lies in the fact that it reveals •somewhat of the early home and history of Man. I formerly wondered that the scenery of Europe, although doubtless in itself not superior to that of America, should be so much more the subject of study and admiration than ours, even among Americans. But I perceive that it is because the scenery of Europe has a human history. Here Napoleon fought ; there Burns or Shakespeare was born; these mountains cast their mighty shadows over the form of Goethe ; in this lake the poet Wordsworth saw his peaceful face; by these salt waters walked and talked the Man of Galilee, and made them beautiful forever with the glory of his radi- ant soul. By as much as a great man is more signifi- cant than a great mountain, by so much is a great 56 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. mountain greater because a great man dwelt uj)on it. High above the tallest peaks towers a lofty human soul ; with a glory that dims the sheen of sunshine on its ice- clad summit shines a soul at one with Truth and Love and Good. The Brahmic Splendor, the Light of the Transfiguration, the Shining Raiment of the Soul, makes dim and ineffectual the brightest glory of nature. As the sun bursts in glory through parted clouds, so does the light of the soul burst through the clouds of earthly life. There is no phenomenon in nature more striking than the glory of the setting sun poured through the rifts of gathered clouds. Out of a wild, stormy ocean of Light, whose shore no man hath seen ; out of Infinity, out of the womb of space, out of Silence, throb- bing with life, the streams of glory come, and pour themselves in rivers of splendor upon the earth; but when the soul arises, -and through the rifted clouds of earthly error pours her splendid light, the glory of the sun is dimmed, and we leave the gorgeous spectacle of nature to gaze on nature's divinest work, a Soul. THE WOED MADE ELESH. We talk of ordination to the ministry, and think to confirm it by the laying on of hands and the uttering of certain words ; but experience has proved that the hands confer no mystic power to open the eyes of the blind or unstop the ears of the deaf; that the words which are pronounced are merely breath, which is soon dissipated on the air. I look for the fulfilling of that text which Jesus announced to his disciples : " These signs shall fol- low those that believe." There are sporadic instances of a spiritual or divine power in this age, but it goes not with the established ministry. Christianity can never be conveyed by words alone. God cannot be apprehended through sounds uttered by the lips. If I would preach God, I must represent God ; must be God, as Jesus was. THE soul's ^yAY OF LIFE. 57 This Word must become flesh, and God must be born again in human form. We shouki preach by our pres- ence; by those silent, subtle emanations which denote the true man of God, bringing light and joy wherever we go. ASPIEATION^ OF THE SOUL. I DO not love solitude for its own sake ; I do love na- ture better for the presence of a congenial friend ; but to find the person whose presence does not mar the land- scape, whose voice does not jar in discord among nature's harmonies, — that is the problem. Few are worthy to stand as figures in the poet's or artist's landscape. It is because I expect so much of men that I am so often disappointed. A bird, a squirrel, takes its i)lace in the landscape, and I do not complain that it does not utter philosophy or engage in devotions. But a man, — he must at least hint to me in some way that he knows himself for what he is, a son of the Most High ; he must give me some token of his divinity, or he disappoints and saddens me. He, who is God conscious', should show me more divinity than a bird or squirrel, which are uncon- scious of their relation to the Supreme. I am as strict in my expectations of myself as of others. When I lose sight of my divine nature and relations, I seem a wretched vagrant, a homeless wanderer in Infin- ity. I do not respect myself ; I rather despise myself and look momentarily for insult and abuse, for it seems to me at such times that I deserve nothing else. I do not know why a man should breathe the sweet air, and absorb so much of the glad sunshine, and devour so much food, and occupy so much valuable space in the world, unless he knows himself for somewhat more than a beast. It seems to me that he should be put off the planet, and driven into some corner of the Kosmos, until he comes to himself, as the saying is. He should be made 58 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. to stand in a corner, like a naughty schoolboy, until he will learn the lesson that all nature is teaching ; — that Man is the offspring of God ; that he is God, manifest or unmanifest, in the flesh. I have determined, for the Imn- dredth time, that I will not forget this fact ; that I will henceforth forever bear it in mind, and live accordingly ; but I suppose that as I have done before I shall do again, — forget it and play the dunce, until through punishment my stupid wit becomes more tentative. How a man who has looked on this truth with open eye, whose heart has burned within him at the consciousness of his own divin- ity, how, I say, he can for a moment forget it, and allow the shadows of sin and sorrow to creep around him, passes my understanding. But the steps to perfection are many. It is by slow precept and slower practice, by fallings-down and strugglings-upward many, that at last we enter into perfect peace and rest. Through aspiration, through effort oft repeated, do we grow daily toward the perfect stature. The divine waits in us sometimes for many years, whilst like the century-plant we are putting forth stem and leaf, and gathering resources for the divine blossoming. MAKING TRACKS FOR THE UNKNOWN. There is one thing which I cling to, amid all changes and confusions, namely, that I am somewhat else than this thing that crawls and peeps and mutters, — I am somewhat else than breaths and tears and bile, — that this world with its clouds and shadows is not my final abiding-place. I am not of time, but of eternity, and my true nature is not touched by these things that perplex me so. I fall back upon the love of God, and say that He who made me and the world, did not so in jest. I am narrowing my space daily, drawing in from the world and its rubbish of books, pictures, bric-a-brac, etc., and getting my effects in shape to march at a moment's notice, as a good soldier should do. I find that the way THE soul's way OF LIFE. 59 to broaden life is to narrow it. The road to new dis- cavery leads not away from self, but in toward self. In- numerable dark continents, unknown galaxies, wait within us for discovery. I would drop most of my luggage on the shore of the known world, and, as Thoreau suggests, make tracks for the Unknown. THE KICHES OF THE SOUL. I HOPE for the time when I may be as free of the trammels of this world's goods as was that philosopher who was wont to say that if the enemy should besiege the city he could walk out of the gate with all his pos- sessions. This freedom must be earned by experience ; it cannot be had by poverty. If I lack but still desire, I am not free, but a i^oor slave ; while if I have but hold without desire, I am free, though I be never so rich a man. It is not the thing that enslaves, but the love of the thing. It is not poverty that frees a man from desire, but philosophy ; and the only true freedom is in the free- dom of the mind from care. Asceticism is but the first step in virtue. To renounce that which I love is merely to punish myself for my own sins. The sin is not in the having, but in the state of mind which desires the thing. A foolish man will be enslaved by a few possessions. A poor toy can make a baby miserable for its loss. But a wise man may preserve his freedom even in the midst of luxury. It is but a weak virtue that must fill the ears with wax, that the song of the sirens may not be heard. In such a case, the will is better than the desire ; but we must come to a virtue that cannot feel temptation. There is an analogy, to my mind, between the use which the body makes of food and that which the soul should make of material things. The elements of the body are in a constant flux, each atom arriving, serving its use, and then departing ; so that the body of man is a sort of hour-glass, through which the sands of the physi- 60 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. cal universe are continually running. So should tlie soul be, with respect to the things of the world. Let them arrive, serve their use, and pass on. Do not seek to fix them by possession. When this flux of the body ceases death ensues ; so, to my mind, does spiritual death ensue, when the soul fixes herself in the midst of material possessions. Let a man live in the midst of whatever wealth, he should be independent of it. It is a coiling serpent ; let it fasten on a man, and his life, his humanity, is crushed out of him. Possession ; what do we mean by the word ? How can I possess more than the spirit of the thing ? A fine picture is not his who buys it, but his who sees and loves it. These mountains, dim and blue in the morning haze, are not the property of the government, though ever so good a title may be shown to them ; but they are mine, thine, who see and love their grandeur. Do you think you can buy Beauty with so many acres of rocks and timber ? ISTa}^ ; Beauty is not for sale. 'Tis free, to whomsoever hath eyes to see. A man may well scorn the pride of material possession, who perceives that title deeds and bills of sale convey no atom of the goods. Save food and clothing, and a shelter from the weather, what needs a man that can be truly bought with money ? Great nature lights her sun-fires and sets the stars in the nightly heavens ; she makes trees to grow and flowers to blossom and birds to sing their enchanting music; she gives to the pure and earnest mind a peace which passeth the understanding of the sensual man, without money and without price ; and says to all her children, " Ho, ye that thirst, come and drink of the water of life, freely ! " TRUE BONDS OF FRIENDSHIP. The chief use of any man to the world is the influence of his aspirations. Not achievements alone can determine THE soul's way OF LIFE. 61 a man's value to us ; but the vision of the ideal which he has and gives to us, in words, on canvas, in marble, in stately piles of architecture. It is that which a man suggests, rather than that which he does, which charms us most. What I am is of transcendent import to my fellow-men; but what I aspire to be is greater. I would send the thoughts of men far beyond my poor achieve- ments, to those visions of the ideal which are yet to me unattainable. The divine dream, which waits yet unful- filled, charms me more than the good I have. Just be- yond the horizon, veiled in jnists maybe, waits that dream of the soul which we have cherished, and sometime, we know not when, it shall take form beside us. Harmonies of the higher life, sweeter than star-music, sound faintly in the distance, and we cannot catch the full and perfect symphony ; but it wakes the soul to diviner life, and tills us with a joy quite other than that awakened by any earthly music. We love those who dream our dreams and voice our highest aspirations, even though their words accuse us daily. We must rise now and then into the higher at- mosphere of the soul, even though it be upon another's wings ; and we who are weakest love most those who take us up into that divine air. We love those who ad- monish us of our own possibilities ; who see what we do not see in ourselves ; who will not be content with the poor estimate we put upon ourselves, but forever expect of us higher things than we have even dared to dream ; Avho refuse our lower self, and will not recognize it or give it the courtesy of their friendship. Our true friend and lover is he who loves only that which is ideal in us ; refusing to cherish our lesser selves, however they may claim his love. We wish our friend to forget the face of to-day, or of yesterday, and know only that face which is forming out of our inmost dreams, to shine upon him some fine new morning like a new- 62 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. created star. We do not wish to be known as we are, but as we aspire to be ; and this fact lies back of many seemingly unaccountable vanities in men and women. What we have been and what we are, most of us are striving hard enough to forget ; but what we shall be Ave forever strive to keep in mind, and by that Ave groAv. I Avish my friend to know me as I shall be when I am worthy of his love. My friend is good to me in propor- tion as he declines to know my faults ; in proportion as he insists upon my ideals ; in proportion as he will have no fellowship with that in me Avhich I myself Avould Avish to forget. The new life in us arises refreshed and in- vigorated at the Avord of a friend who sees that as our normal possibility. Love feeds upon the ideal, and that alone. Let the bald face of fact be seen, and love flies from it as from a Medusa head. " Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind," says Shakespeare. Cupid points not to the face of flesh, for he Avell knoAvs that no man Avould be in love with that ; but he touches that Avith his magic Avand, and reveals the face of the ideal, the face of the potential self, and straightAvay the lover is charmed and bound. Love dies when the ideal no longer speaks in the tones of the beloved. When mere Avords usurp the place of the musical utterance of the soul, Avhen the lips frame mere sounds, and not those faint Avhispers of inmost dream-life, then the lover's ears are sealed, and he hears not the voice of his beloved, but some strange, barbaric tongue Avliich makes no music in his heart. It is a tine laAv in nature that love shall thus awake only at the touch of the ideal in men and Avomen. By this hiAv children are born not of ourselves, but of our ideal dreams, Avhen they are born of love. Thus Ave do not merely reproduce ourselves, but our ideals in our chil- dren, Avhen they are born of true affection. While love lives, the race advances. THE soul's way OF LIFE. 63 I cannot hold your love, mj friend ; but if I look steadfastly upon the ideal in you, and believe in that as your true and abiding self, you shall be held to nie as with hooks of steel. Whilst I look upon that, you are mine and I am yours ; but when I see your faults, and begin to identify you with them, a force has come be- tween us which can sever the strongest earthly bonds. Let me not then look at you, but at your hopes, your aspirations ; and do you too look upon my hopes, and cherish my dreams, and believe that they are me ; for this is the secret of abiding love, of a friendship that no earthly power can ever destroy. So are souls knit together in a love that is endless, as the growth of the soul is endless ; in a friendship that death cannot destroy, more than he can destroy the soul itself. The pathetic separations of friends and lovers, husbands and wives, which we often witness, are due in the main to a separation in the inner life, which no legal or social remedy could ever heal. When I lose sight of that toward which my friend is growing, I lose my friend. No longer can I rightly understand his acts, or interpret his thoughts. He is drifting aAvay from me day by day ; or, rather, passing away through superior effort and growth. As a ship at anchor cannot keep company with one under sail, so a friend who looks not upon the ideal, Avho aspires not to live daily better and holier, cannot keep company with one who rises each morning nearer to his dreams of the day before. HEALTH. Amoxg the new gospels of life which are being pub- lished on every hand in these days, I look in vain for some adequate revelation of the laws of health. Frag- mentary prophecies there are, which promise much, but do not meet our hopes with fulfillment. We still look for the inspired prophet who shall reveal, in a fine frenzy of 64 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. divine madness, the supreme laws of being, which, to know and obey, shall restore Man to the estate of perfect health which he has lost. No philosophy of life can be considered complete which does not set forth these laws of physical harmony ; for man's nature is a unit, and health and morals are one. Whilst waiting the perfect revelation, we may entertain ourselves with such frag- mentary glimpses of these laws of life as are vouchsafed to us through personal experience. We are here in the world, and certain laws of life are here. Let us get on good terms with them. We have refused their company too long. We have in most pig-headed fashion pushed along contrary to the leading of these good laws ; but no amount of squealing or dodging can evade them. They have us fast, and by the ears. W^e must obey, or we shall suffer still more. It is no argument to say that many healthy and robust persons live safely under these bad conditions which I shall expose. Nature's vengeance is slow but sure ; and if not in these persons, yet in their children, or children's children, will she show her penalty. As the spendthrift and prodigal son may squander much of his father's be- queathed fortune, and yet not die in the almshouse, so these rugged men may squander their inherited vigor, and yet not die of the tremors or insanity: but "Ven- geance is mine, saith the Lord ; I will repay ! " The sickly children of to-day had healthy grandparents. Are we to look to ourselves alone ? Shall we not leave some- thing to the future, since we have received so much from the past ? Shall we not even increase our inherited talent, and bequeath it larger to the next generation ? One thing is certain : if the laws of the universe endure, society must pay the penalty of its present mode of life. I would attract the attention of my neighbors to these laws, that through obedience they may be saved. I would raise up a brazen serpent, even one of brass, if so I might THE SOUL S WAY OF LIFE. 65 get my fellows, bitten of the poisonous snakes of conven- tional society, to look up and be saved. By whatever proddings with sharp goads, whatever mad shriekings and halloings, I would stir up these drowsy folk to a realization of their bad condition ; and when they have stirred, and turned an ear toward me, I would shout into it, as never having another chance, these words : " Wake, ye dead ! Come forth from your sepulcher ! Cleanse yourselves ; leave your grave-clothes ; come forth into the pure air and sunshine ! Let the wind blow on you, the sun shine on you ! Abjure houses, renounce clothes, forswear meats, do anything that will inaugurate the needed reform ! Tear those rags from your back, which bind and hamper jou ! Cast to the pigs (poor pigs!) the rubbish you have furnished your table with. Clothe your body with raiment that shall serve it, not enslave it; that shall invite, not repress, all freedom of action; that instead of concealing and distorting, shall reveal the divine form and action of the body, that organ of the Holy Spirit. Feed your life with nature's beautiful products, as nearly as possible in the condition offered by nature for your sustenance. Cultivate a friendly relation with air and sunshine. Let the wind blow some- time on your naked body, and the warm sun kiss it with loving touch. Baptism, frequent baptism, not once for all to save your soul for heaven, but every new morn- ing, to preserve your body in sweetness, purity and health for use in this world: and then, beautiful, serene thoughts; thoughts of the relation between man and God, the individual and the Universal Life ; a receptive attitude of the soul to the currents of the Infinite Life in which man lives and moves and hath his being ; for thoughts are creative energy ; they will at length embody themselves and become flesh ; and as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he in outward appearance." O I would call my brothers up out of the slough into 66 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. which they have descended, and re-establish them in that beautiful Order to which they were born. Life, life is beautiful and fair ! Why cut ourselves off from it, and become mere creeping or walking corpses ; so much dead and inert flesh, waiting only a proper time for burial ! Live ? No ! None of us live ! We are all dead or half- dead, the grave already yawning for us ! Around us, instead of the free, sweet air of he[iven, circulate damp currents of tomb- vapor, rank with the odors of decay. Our houses are for the most part sepul- chers. AVe close the doors and windows against the breath of heaven, as though it were the blast of a pesti- lence ; afraid to breathe air from the sky, as though God had poisoned it before sending it to us : afraid to let the sunshine through our windows, lest it steal away some color from our carpets ! my friend, better lose the color from your carpet, and keep it in your cheeks ! CLOTHING. There is a beautiful compensation in the laws of nature ; beautiful when we take advantage of it and get the good laws on our side ; but fatal when we are opposed to them. Do you Avish to paint that carpet with your life-blood ? But you do so when you preserve its color at your own expense. Never mind the fading of that line suiting. Wear it out in the sunshine. What color the sun takes from that he will put into your cheeks. Never mind if you do wear off the finish of those shoes or that coat. , When your garments are worn out, your body will be made new. That is the way to get the good of your clothing. Convert its strength and beauty into yourself. Take the wool and flax and make them bone and tissue. Don't throw aside your clothing when the ncAV is off. That is like throwing aside a dish of nourish- ing food when you have just tasted of it. There are ten pounds of flesh in those old trousers, that old coat. Why THE soul's way OF LIFE. 67 til row away that flesli, when you stand so much in need of it ? Oh ! You have too much ? Let me whisi^er to you a most curious secret concerning the laws of clothing. When you have properly used this clothing, worn it utterly out (not in merely, but out, I say), there has been a most curious transformation. It represented so many pounds of flosh, I said. But this value is either plus or minus, according to your need. If you had too much flesh, this clothing is a minus quantity; and you find that it has taken your flesh, and you do not know where it has put it. But if you needed that flesh, you find that you have it, and you do not know where it came from. friends, wear your clothing out, wear it out, I say ! So many of us wear ourselves out instead of our clothing ; and we can easier find new clothing than new bodies. 'Tis in vain that we use clothing as a disguise, to hide our weakness and debility ; in vain that we seek to put on beauty with a new dress or new coat. It is health that makes any clothing beautiful. Do we admire the beauty of the shroud ? Why not ? Because no life transforms it from rags to raiment A healthy body is beautiful in whatever dress. A sickly body is not beautiful, and no dress can conceal its deformity. Why watch with such solicitude the fashions, as they come and go ? Can we put on beauty with the latest cut of robe from Paris ? Nay ; it cannot be had so. God h?.s not given his patterns for beauty to the tailors and dress- makers, to be sold for money. But have health, my brother, my sister, and Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed as you shall be. AETIFICIAL HEAT. Nature gave us a heating apparatus when she sent us into the world, which, stiff-necked and rebellious that Ave are, we have put away, and taken in its place idolatrous 68 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. stoves, grates, furnaces, steam-pipes and the like ; inven- tions, all, of the Evil One, who is the King of Fire. These things he has sent us, to prepare us by parboiling here for the eternal boiling and roasting to come. I doubt not but that the fall of man was in some way closely related to artificial heat. Why was a flaming sword placed to guard Eden? That was evidently a sym- bol of man's degradation. He had misused Eire, and Eire is still between him and Eden. Our food, our bodies, are boiled and baked until the life is well-nigh gone from us. We make in the midst of our Arctic winter a troj^ical climate. We alternate between these daily, passing at one step from equator to pole, from pole to equator. Is it strange that our poor bodies cannot stand such a strain? Nature has put six months between January and August. We leap that space in a second. By the opening and closing of a door, we pass from summer to winter, from winter to summer. And then we marvel and complain that we have catarrh, bronchitis, colds, coughs, consump- tion; and lay upon good Providence what we have brought upon ourselves by our folly and atheism. We put our horses and cattle into sheds, without fire or blankets; and nature warms them from within. We should be as self-reliant and complete as they. In our advance from them mindward we should not leave anything good behind; but carry with us to the service of mind their animal health and vigor. The Eskimos live in the coldest cli- mate, and yet they have no fire in their houses of ice. With as good a constitution as the Eskimo's, we think we must heat our houses to a tropic temperature in order to exist at all. We have not suspected the resources of nature. She Avill answer any demand, give her but time enough. In the slow course of the seasons she has ample time to adjust all organisms to the changes in tempera- ture. But if we forestall her efforts by maintaining an equable temperature she does not protect us. If we THE soul's way OF LIFE. 69 should remain in an equable temperature, all would be well; but we pass from the heat within to the cold with- out the house, and nature cannot protect us on so short a notice. Hence we suffer, and must suffer until we learn a better way. AVe have been steadily going in the wrong direction with our civilization, and it is high time we should call a halt. We enervate our bodies by luxury, and then we wonder where our vital strength has fled. Nature is a wise economist. She wastes no favors where they are not needed. Each organism in nature is fur- nished with all that is necessary to insure its maintenance. For securing food it has roots, claws, or teeth. For warmth, bark, fur, hair, feathers, and a respiratory and circulatory system. Man has a furnace in his body, with pipes to convey the heated fluid to all parts of the house. Why shut the drafts in this furnace, and turn the dampers in the pipes, and shorten its fuel, in order that the furnace in the cellar may be more necessary? Our philosophy of health must be based upon this principle: Demand creates its oivn supply, and use is the price of possession. "What!" you say; "shall we put away clothes, and go naked into the winter streets?" Yes, if that is the best use you can make of the truth I show you. " Shall we put away stoves and radiators, and steam-pipes and furnaces, and shiver in our desolate homes?" Yes, if you can see no other way to reform yourself. I indicate laws, not the application of them. The law that I reveal is organic self-reliance ; defenses from witliin, not with- out; the power of self-adjustment, and the relation between demand and supply, organ and function. FOOD. Never eat when you are not hungry, but do something to make yourself hungry. Never seek to create an appe- tite by artificial means, but only by the means ordained o.f nature, — exercise, always in the open air. Stop eat- TO LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. ing when you have had enough. Do not eat for the taste of the food. There are two kinds of relish for food. One is the relish which hunger gives, which makes the coarsest food desirable. The other is a certain artificial pleasure, derived from spices, condiments, and flavors, which tempts one to eat long after the natural and healthy appetite has been satisfied. Nature always makes us pay for this latter indulgence, which is a form of sensuality. A healthy and normal appetite can be secured only by acting in accordance with nature's laws. Hotels vie with each other to furnish a tempting menu; but the hotel which could furnish a healthy appetite would dis- tance all its competitors. Millionaires would empty their purses for that. But money cannot buy it. He who would traffic with nature must pay her full price, and in her own coin. Our stamped gold and silver and printed greenbacks are not legal tender with her. She refuses them all. She has plenty of gold in her coffers. It was thence man stole it, the thief ! and now he would offer it to her in payment for her benefits. "No, no, my good sir; none of your promises; none of your gold; but performance ! performance ! " HOME AND FURNISHINGS. When I walk in the woods I think I am the richest man in Boston. There I inhabit a house which no human art can rival. Its ceiling is the blue sky, frescoed with the waving branches of trees. Living artists with invis- ible brushes are painting it in ever-changing forms and hues. It is lighted by the Source of light. All men must light their lamps at the one that shines in my house. Back Bay chandeliers cannot rival the splendor of the candelabra of the stars, which swings nightly in my house. Its carpet is the product of a loom whose cunning the looms of Lowell and Lawrence but poorly imitate. That carpet no moths can corrupt, no thieves can steal. THE soul's way OF LIFE. 71 For furniture, what mossy boulders ! Seats upholstered in a style no dealer of New York or Boston can imitate ! living plush ; velvet thrilling and pulsing with the Life that stirs in me also; and when I recline on these, it is Life, and not death, that embraces me. Your avooI, your silk, your linen, are all dead! dead! once alive, and in their place; but now dead, out of their place, and fast enough decaying ! I shudder when I face this fact — that in our civilization we are actually housed in death, clothed in death, fed on death ! Is it any wonder we are dead or half dead ourselves? No, but rather a wonder that we can make shift to live at all, in such a sepulchral environment. Do you think there is no difference be- tween life and death? So little are we acquainted with Life that it is not surprising we see so little to lament in this omnipresence of death and decay. What would I have you do, you ask? Nothing, till you are compelled by your own perception. When you see these things to be true that I have said, you will adjust your life accordingly. I cannot do that for you. I can only adjust my own ; and it has taken me years to do that. Slowly, painfully, I have struggled to extricate myself from the bonds of death in which I was reared. Heir to weakness and disease, educated by society into false ways of living and thinking, it is the Lord's doing, and marvelous in mine eyes, that I have got even thus far on the road back to nature. I would not prescribe your food, drink, clothing, shelter, mode of life. These are nothing, of themselves. To commence at that end is to seize the thing by the wrong handle, as Epictetus would say; and you could never lift it. But if you see these laws which I see and announce, the rest will take care of itself. In my case it has meant a change in diet, drink, clothing, manner of life; most greatly, a change in my opinions and conduct. But perception must pre- cede action, or action is void. Look up ! See how beau- 72 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. tiful is this living world. Sense the thrill of Life, Life, everywhere. Know yourselves as one with that Life; pure with its Purity, beautiful with its Beauty, strong with its Strength. See these laws of the universe, which shape the flower, the crystal, the star; know that these wait on you, to mold you into perfect Beauty. See them, never close your eyes more to them ; and they shall inhabit you, and shall make you their own, and you shall Live; as beautiful as the flowers, as pure as the snow- flake, as wise as the Laws themselves, which know all things; as good, and as loving, as the Spirit of all this Universe, which exists for joy. THE SOUECE OF HEALTH. Of all the delusions under which sick people labor, it seems to me that the most irrational is that which prompts them to travel about the earth in search of health. The good creator has made a beautiful earth, filled it with plenty, dressed it in forests and mountains, bejeweled it with fountains and lakes, all for the delec- tation of man. Health permeates it everywhere, the very air is life, and the sunshine is laden with vigor. We cannot breathe without imbibing life. The water we drink throbs with it. The fruits of the trees are vibrating with it. And yet poor, weak, foolish man, ignorant of the presence all around him of that which he lacks, rushes frantically over the earth, climbs moun- tains, wanders in forests, or by the shore of the sea, drinks of poisonous waters at mineral springs, bathes in mud or water reeking with minerals, eats foods fearfully and wonderfully made, imbibes drugs by the gallon, and thinks thus to get that health which is his by natural right. We must learn to find health where it is, and not so busily seek it where it is not. We must learn to con- centrate our effort, and instead of expending it in travel- ing over the country, utilize it in taking advantage of the THE soul's way OF LIFE. 73 elements of health where we are. In every country of the earth people are sick, and people die. At sea-level, on mountain summits in a rare atmosphere, in cold regions and in hot, in damp and in dry atmospheres, people are sick, and people die. Go to a certain place for health, and the train which takes you in is taking other people out, in search of the same object. You go to the sea- shore and another is leaving for the mountains, for the same reason. We act altogether as though health were some sort of line bird, which we should chase with great zeal until we get close enough to put salt on her tail and thus catch her. Or, as though disease were a sort of demon or wraith which we might escape or dodge by fast enough traveling. But we find that this Demon travels as- fast as we. We go to the seashore, and the Demon arrives on the same train. We go up a mountain, and the Demon greets us at the summit, with a broad and malicious grin. He can stand hot weather or cold, wet atmospheres or dry, low or high altitudes; we cannot freeze him out, nor sweat him out, nor starve him out. He follows us like a shadow, and darkens our path every- where. Shall we not see at last that we cannot run away from him, but must stand fast and fight him where we are, until we overcome him ? Let us save our strength and exert it upon the Demon. If I am to wrestle with this adversary I must not run all the way to the arena. I should arrive fresh and vigorous, and vanquish him at one effort. I will no longer retreat from this demon of disease. I will meet him in open battle, and one or the other of us shall hck the dust. There is not room for both of us in this small body. He or I must vacate. I think that I have the advantage of him to begin with, for this body was made for me, and belongs to me. He is a trespasser, an invader, and has never had a title to his claim. I have some use for this body which I dwell in, and do not 74 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. propose to vacate in the interests of a vagrant, a mere squatter. I shall order him off my premises, and not seek to leave him behind by rapid traveling. He can go faster than I, on land, on the sea, through the air. He can climb, he can swim, he can fast, he can endure cold and heat. He will bear neglect, insult, pity, scorn, con- tempt, wrath. He cannot be put out by prayer nor by entreaty. Especially is he not of the kind that goeth but by fasting. He can be got rid of only by the most heroic treatment. He must be utterly overcome, van- quished, slain. Let me then make it the business of my life to overcome this Demon, and engage in no other work till he be slain. I will not run away, I will not retreat, I will stay where I am, stand my ground, and have it out with him. Life or death, I care not which, waits on the issue. To live is pleasant, with health ; death is welcome without. When you have come to this mood, my good patient, you are on the road to recovery. Death and disease flee from this spirit of courage. Disease is a coward, his courage all assumed from your weakness. A single firm word, a single tone of courage, sends him trembling back to the shadows whence he came. He is a demon of dark- ness, and cannot stand the light of truth. Live in the light, not of the sun alone, but of the orb of faith and hope. Bask in that bright atmosphere, and the demons of disease must leave you forever. SELF-CULTUEE. Our youth are ambitious of success in the world. They enter the games of life, to strive for the wreath of victory. But they do not see that the strongest wrestler they can meet is the image of themselves. They go about challenging this one and that, forgetting that the wrestler must at last wrestle with the angel of self, as Jacob did, and cease not till blessed of him. The Goliath for every THE soul's way OF LIFE. 75 David to overthrow is his own worldly self ; towering- huge and impudent, bawling out in the conceit of personal power, challenging the soul to combat. Have at him, brave youth, not with the cumbersome armor of tradi- tional fashion, but with the sling and pebble of simple truth. Cut off his head Avith his own sword of worldly power. When thou hast slain him, thou hast slain thy tens of thousands of other foes, who are but represented in him. The public is a necessary target for every man's best effort : but the wise archer knows that not the target, but the shooting ; not the hitting or missing of the mark, but the strength that comes of the exercise, is the true end of the game. The master of the games of life has well concealed this secret from those who would be injured by knowing it. The secrets of God are imparted only to the wise, who, having undergone the necessary discipline, are pre- pared to receive the esoteric doctrine. The wreath of victory, the applause of the multitude, the desire of ex- celling, are the means employed by a wise Master to stimulate the contestants to achievement. But the wreath crumbles, the applause and the multitude die and are no more, the desire of victory is sated by conquest, and at last dawns upon the mind of the contestant the use and value of these things ; and he perceives that in himself is his reward, everlasting. This is not the doctrine of a narrow selfishness. Man is a social creature, and his relations to society indicate a broad margin to all his efforts. But these relations will take care of themselves. He can serve his fellows only through self-achievement. What he achieves, he promul- gates. What he becomes, he publishes abroad. His most secret virtue is trumpeted from the housetops. What he secretly aspires to, becomes a banner of inspiration to his fellows. The voice that he obeys, calling him up 76 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. higher and higher, sounds through him to others ; and his ears, hearing that voice, become ears for all men. The individual man is the channel through which God influ- ences other men. There is a pure contentment in these thoughts. I will not rush abroad on errands of benevolence, making of philanthropy a business, an end in itself. But I will at home, in the street, in the market, wherever I meet men, be to them an example of serenity and trust, of virtue and valor, of courage and hope. Why then fret thyself about thy relations to thy fel- low-men ? These were established from Eternity. Thou hast nothing to do with these. Thy part is to live thy life in conformity with thy best perceptions of truth and good. As for thy neighbors, they shall be influenced by thee above thy will or planning. Do thou but live thine own life truly, and thou shalt serve all men. The fra- grance of thy life shall fill the world with a sweet incense. Seek not a public place, nor a public work. Do thou but seek the Source of thy life. There thou shalt thrive and grow, and fill the world with thy presence. Know thou that thy personal life is a thing of no account. Why fret thyself for food, for drink, for raiment, for the opinions of thy fellow-men ? There is but one aim for thee, but one worthy ambition ; to live at all times after thy best and truest insight. Follow thy genius. The perceptions that come to thee, out of the universe of Thought, heed thou them, and naught else. 'Tis not by going toward the world that thou canst find the world's best gifts. Do thou but leave the world and all its gifts behind thee, as a cast-off garment, and thou shalt possess it all. Men shall hasten to pour out their riches before thee. Scorn wealth, it hastens to thy side. Thou art anxious to help thy fellow-men. Thou seekst strenuously some means whereby thou mayst aid them THE soul's way OF LIFE. 77 Thou hast not perceived that thyself is thy best gift to the world. Give thyself, pure, honorable, loyal to truth and right. This is the greatest gift. Thou wouldst speak and write to thy fellow-men. See that thou utter- est forth nothing but thyself; thy life, passed through the fire of thought and love. Live earnestly, seeking only to fulfill thy destiny, according to the will of God ; and the story of thy daily life shall be a gospel. Only so can man serve man ; at last only by himself living that life he would have his brother live. That shall publish itself, in all languages. No roll of parch- ment can contain that story. It is published by the Soul, through all her forms of speech. Wouldst thou aid the poor? Show them how to be rich in thought. Poverty is not the absence of gold and silver. These cannot make any man rich. The greatest souls, the happiest souls of the world's history, have been men poor after the fashion of the world. Blessed may be the poor in worldly goods ; for in spirit theirs may be the kingdom of heaven. Thou canst not serve men directly, but only indirectly. If thou wouldst teach them love, be thyself their lover. If thou wouldst teach them purity, let thy life be thy evangel. Whatsoever thou wouldst that men should be unto thee, be thou even so unto them : for this is the law and the prophets. Thou canst never preach truth and love to thy fellow-men in words only. Thou must have the gift of tongues, which is the speech of the soul, the speech of character, the language of being. What thou sayest, thy fellows will not hear, or else soon forget: what thou art, the blindest shall see, and the dullest understand. Let but a man see that he is humanity, that the race stands or falls in him, and self-discipline becomes the road to all achievement and power. Cease this restless striving with thy brothers, and calmly set thine own soul in order. Dost thou think to get the 78 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. beam out of thine eye by plucking at tlie mote in tliy brother's eye ? Nay, nay : get the beam out of thine own eye, and the mote is already gone from thy brother's eye. ETHICS AND ACTION. We must not separate ethics from life, and make it an abstract thing, to be emptily talked of on Sundays, and worshiped, perchance, as a thing beautiful, but not applicable to the affairs of the world. Keligion should not be a thing apart, but the spirit of all things. The principles of mathematics are valueless until they find an application in the affairs of life. Twice two is four : of what value is this in itself ? None. But when it helps me to compute my brother's dues, or aids me to solve the practical problems of my daily experience, it is of ser- vice. So these ethical principles are of no use until they become the spirit of action and speech. Let me act these truths, and they are of service. Where the truth is merely uttered and sung, the spirit of God is not. I would not ignore the value of speech, as an inspira- tion to action ; but let it be looked to that action is its end, and itself only a means; els6 is it poisonous and deadly. Separate the mind from action, let it dwell in the atmosphere of abstract thought, and it quickly perishes or becomes insane. PHYSICS AND METAPHYSICS. One day a poor, forlorn-looking kitten came to my kitchen. I opened the door, and she sneaked in, trem- bling. She looked fit for any crime, save that her evil intention lacked courage for execution. She had the air of a Cain, fleeing from his brother's murder. I set a dish of milk upon the floor. At once she mani- fested an interest in life. She lapped it greedily, and when I filled the dish again, again she emptied it. THE soul's way OF LIFE. 79 Now a wonder was manifested in my little teacher, sent of God. The world began to brighten to her. She became an optimist, and began to praise God by frisking and jumping. She coquetted with her tail, chasing it with more zeal and joy than men chase the objects of their desire, and with at least as much success. She had for- gotten that it was fast to the opposite extremity, and that, whirl as she would, she could never overtake it; but men are not more wise. I dropped a ball of yarn on the floor, and this was her immediate heaven. She tossed it into the air, and bit it in play, and struck it from her, and chased it again. She assumed indifference, to see if the ball would manifest anxiety; but as it lay still, she pounced on it again. For an hour she prolonged this to me instructive spectacle, with all the joy of innocent nature. But what had wrought this mighty change? What potent agency was it that had brought the world out of darkness and the pit, and filled it with sunshine and joy for her? Xo metaphysics, but only a poor dish of milk; so closely is the stomach related to the soul. Is this the refutation of all idealism? No ; but it shows us that matter is not to be trifled with. God did not make the world in vain. These mountains and rocks, rivers and seas, have a meaning for us. There is a difference between white and black, between hot and cold, between meat and poison. To teach us these facts is the office of matter. Let us then be materialists when dealing with matter, and idealists when dealing with ideas. Idealism is the philosophy of the subjective, materialism the science of the objective. There should be no discord between the two. 80 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. THE PUBLIC MAN. The man called public is not so in the real sense. He serves for the most part private and individual ends, not public and universal ones. I feel that at last I am to be a strictly public man through the most private and soli- tary manner of life. I am at last to be settled not in another parish, but at the core and center of Eeality. I am to settle upon my own center, and run no longer about the circumference or periphery of things. When a man finds his own center, he for the first time becomes settled. He may thenceforth wander however much over the face of the earth, but he never travels away from home. But until a man does find himself, his center, his relation to the universe, he may plant himself in one village, in one house, for ninety years, and still he is unsettled. I would plant myself on the center of Self, and thus find the center of Man. My friends, to whom I have announced this intention, cannot understand me. They say I have no right to renounce my "useful career," to follow my own inclina- tion for solitude. I cannot make them see that I am just beginning to serve men when I retreat from them. My friends think that to serve men I must mingle with them ; in the street, the market, or at least in the church. They do not understand me when I say that it is not by meet- ing and mingling with men's bodies, but with their minds, that I can serve them. I think that he who solves the problem of life for himself has solved it for his neigh- bors, so far as he can solve anything for them. Why go to my neighbors as I am, and take their time with my babble and nonsense? Let me become somewhat better than they, before I call their attention to myself. When I am so busy talking with them, and dealing with them, I have no time to grow with them. THE soul's way OF LIFE. 8i THE MYSTEEY OF LIFE. We do not know the reason of the simplest thing. Why does the blade of grass grow upward? Why does the vine trail or climb? Who made the willow to droop, and the pine to hold its leafy crown aloft ? The merest worm that crawls defies the reason of man to find its origin, or the reason of its existence. The insect that buzzes in the air, the moth that flutters over the meadow, why do these exist? Does any man know? Verily, this knowledge is too high for us ; we cannot attain unto it. No soul has solved the mystery of life's purpose. I asked a man of nearly sixty years whether he could leave life, satisfied that he had discovered its meaning. " Nay," said he, " I know nothing. I have lived, and I shall die; that is all I know." He had studied well, read philoso- phy, ancient and modern; had become familiar with the widest researches of science ; had questioned the oracle of the soul most earnestly for years; and was at last standing on the threshold of eternity, shading his eyes with his hand, striving to penetrate the gloom of the beyond. Life had taught him much, for it had taught him how to live; but of its purpose it had taught him nothing. The cause, the meaning, the destiny of human life, of these he had learned nothing. Out of Infinity we come forth into Time. We wake in a beautiful world and do not remember whence we came. That sleep, of which birth is an awakening,— what dreams had we in that slumber? That other sleep, of which death is the eye-closing, — what dreams await us there? Alas ! How shall we know? Are we awake even in this hour? Are we not dreaming now? Who knows? How poorly do our priests and teachers answer us these questions ! Let us think for ourselves, brothers, and see what answer the oracle will give us in reply to our earnest questioning. Plato cannot answer any question for me. 82 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. He answered few at most, and these were all for Plato, not for me. Nor do I presume to answer any question for you, my friend. You must answer your own. I merely indicate what questions I have asked of the oracle, and what answers have been given me. If perchance my questions are also yours, possibly my answers may be helpful. But accept them not as full explanations. I do but hint, indirectly, and you cannot possibly entrap me into any presumptuous answers. I brood much on the mystery of life. What is it? What is its purpose? Does he live most wisely who knows nothing of and cares nothing for these questions? The mass of men, I think, do not ask any questions of life. They live from day to day, suffer and enjoy, and when the end of life comes they depart, with perhaps a prayer for the safety of their soul ; but life is not an awful mystery to them ; they do not tremble to apprehend that they live; they do not face terrors daily, hourly, in the doubts that haunt them ; they do not realize what a fear- ful thing it is to be born. Who knows the mystery of life and death? We are here; we know that, or dream it; whence came we? Whither are we going? Why are we alive, with no ade- quate consciousness of the purpose and end of life? We are like a company of actors sent into a strange country, but without having any parts assigned to them, or any directions for their conduct. Each plays what he fancies, there is no unity of action, no intelligent co-operation. They have forgotten whence they came, and why they came ; and what to do they know not. Is it any wonder that they make merry, each in his own fashion, and live in and for the day only? Perhaps this is wisest action. Who knows? Perhaps the hour that now is embraces all of duty, all of obligation. Perhaps sensa- tion is the only law; pleasure the end of life; self- interest the only guide. Let us air these doubts, and THE soul's way OF LIFE. 8S have a fair look at them. They will not be whistled down. They will not get them behind us at our bidding. They will ever and again face us, till we solve and thus forever dismiss them. It is not wise to hush the first questionings of the Avorld-brain. It hath its lessons to learn, and must find its own answers to all its questions. Not yet may the soul dictate to the brain her lofty oracles of truth. This is the day of Intellect, and we must respect it. Because man is fallen out of his celestial order of life, there is a separation between the soul and the brain. We must be patient, and treat our doubts with respect, until such time as they answer themselves. To know intellectually the meaning of life is a feat unattainable at present. To feel that it answers some good end; that an act so majestic in its prologue must have a noble ending; that the experiences of earth-life are as beads upon an eternal string of consciousness : this is possible, and perhaps justifiable even by what we know. We look for immediate answers to our questions. But the Great Mystery shall not be lightly solved. Let us take Life for what it is; — a vast, unsearchable Mystery, a Phenomenon, whose awful appearance, too deeply pon- dered, may strike us mad. What are we, that we should reach forth our hand to pluck the fruit of this tree of Knowledge? The stars and the worlds are the apples of this Tree; black Chaos the soil in which its roots are fixed; out of deeps infinite flow rivers of Force which nourish its growth. It is not for us to know its origin. Let it content us to know that Good rules in the Kosmos. Not on my terms, but on the terms of Supreme Good, shall I live life. These affairs which engage me, though they seem great to me, are but falling leaves in the forest of Life. The significance of Life does not appear in Time. The illusions of life engage us, we are cheated into false esti- 84 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. mates, we deem this or that trifle the end and aim of all endeavor; but serenely moves the Life-current on which we disport, flowing between the banks of Time to Eter- nity; with infinite composure the Genius of Life observes our puny struggles, and smiles at our joys and sorrows. We are made aware that Life overreaches the bounds of the senses; that its relations are with Infinities and Eternities; and we know at last that the Soul is the only Keality amid infinite appearances. It is not for play that man is placed here, amid shoot- ing fire-balls and wild tumultuous forces. It is for Work, for Action. A seething sea, beat and tossed by Time's hard blasts; a wild light bursting through the rifted clouds above it ; faint music of far-off spheres mingling with the storm-symphony ; a star here and there, shoot- ing its lance of light doAvn through the battling cloud- hosts ; such as this is the picture of life on the earth. Whence, whence is this mysterious life, throbbing, pulsing, beating ; surging above time and space, flowing out into Eternity ? Alas, poor man ! thou canst not solve these dark riddles. Thou canst only Trust, and rest upon the Love of God. Thou art, and that is enough for thee. Not chaos hath brought thee forth. Child of Light thou art, the eternal Flame-Spirit burning in thee. Thy des- tiny is such as befits thy nature. The universe Is, thou Art. " Think ye that He created them in jest ?" Let the vision of these truths cheer thee in the midst of trials. Keturn, from thy battling with the world, upon thy real and immortal nature. The darts of pain and grief cannot reach thee there. Serene, tranquil, joyous, thy soul cannot be moved. THE TRUE CHURCH. I AM wrestling in spirit with my problem, which is, the relation of the priest to society and the church. The methods of the church are precisely the reverse of the THE soul's way OF LIFE. 85 divine ones. Can I redeem the institution by sufficient love and faith? Shall I stake all on the laws of the soul ^ My Genius bids me say to my people : " You are groping in the dark. You are lost. Come, rally on the soul's side. Cast off these chains of conventionality. Stand free. Unite with me to live the ideal hfe. Love thy neighbor better than thyself. Let that be our law. Look not for numbers in our church, but for earnestness, sincerity, devotion to high ends. Think not that you must pay me a stated salary. Give as you are moved, and I am blessed in the receiving. Anything less is poisonous. Raise no moneys by frivolous means. I can live hard, eat little, sleep on a bed of straw. I can hve so as to shame the spurious luxury of your lives, ihmk not to degrade me to a lower level of life by giving me the means of luxury. Expect me not to follow your ways of life. I call you to follow me, as I follow Him who leads me. I shall forget your names save to remember that they are all written in the Book of Life. I shall not always see you when I meet you, because I am look- in- over your heads. I shall not always speak when i pa^ss, because I am preoccupied in another conversation. My Genius speaks to me, and I have no ears for your discourse. Expect me not to be social with you. I have too much other company to entertain. The gods are beckoning to me continually. If I do not heed their in- vitation, I shall be unworthy to accept yours ; it i do, 1 shall have no time. I cannot pledge myself to dress conventionally at all times. There is a fashion set from on high, and I would follow that, even though I should neglect all other. Life is more than meat, and the body more than raiment. If you see my clothes, I am un- worthy of them, whatever they may be. I cannot promise to preach the accepted dogmas. I must preach what i see, or keep silence. Truth comes not from below, nor about, but from above. Eeligion is not brewed out ot 8b LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. the elements of the world, boiled up together in a church pot ; but it is a spirit from on high, descending out of purer regions to vivify the world. I would bring that spirit into our midst. With that, we shall be a church, not have one. Without it, we are already entombed beneath the pile that we have builded." REXUNCIATIOK The ancient philosopher first made himself independ- ent of the world's benefits, and then went forth to teach it truth. When he had put all things under his feet, he could speak truth without fear. He feared not kings nor tyrants, for they could take nothing from him. Their riches he despised, their threats he laughed at. Secure from all injury, he might be the prophet of stern truth among men. We must have this independence of the world's benefits before we can teach truth. We need not assume poverty, but we must be ready and willing to do so, if circum- stances should demand it. We need not live upon meal and water so long as loyalty to truth brings us something- better. But woe unto him who has luxury at the expense of virtue. I do not believe men are so utterly depraved that they will stone or starve every prophet. But I would warn the prophet that he must be willing to accept this fate, if it should come to him. Let a man count the cost, and then act. Not all soldiers are killed or wounded, but no man should put on the garb of war who fears either wounds or death. When a man has taught himself to do without the benefits of the world, he may safely accept and use them. But all things, even life itself, must be held delicately, subject to the demand of Duty. THE soul's way OF LIFE. 87 THE BABBLER AND THE SCORNEE. I AM SO impressed with the holy office of the Pulpit that it seems to me I can never find a word worthy to be uttered there. thoughtless man, that darest to invade that Holy Place with thy vain babbling ! Dost thou not perceive that thou art in the presence of God? And wilt thou utter vain nonsense, mere rhetoric, when thou shouldst be on thy knees before God, bidding Him speak to thy People ? And these worshipers : for what have they gathered here ? Is it to spend a comfortable hour, contemplating the affairs of the world, gazing at each other's raiment, or listening with flattered ears to unctu- ous utterances of a man with a priest's robe on his shoul- ders ? Ah, ye people ! Know ye not that ye are in the presence of Eternity ? Know ye not that Life's Mystery broods in this Holy Place ? Out of the Silence come whispers of things too great for man's poor ears to hear outspoken. Listen, ye souls, mystery-haunted: hearts, hold your wild beating, and hearken to those Whispers ; those Faint Intimations of Divine Things ! Hope not to solve the Mystery. Ex- pect not the full and perfect Light, but wait prayerfully and with pleading souls for the least gleam of Light out of the Darkness. Life! Mystery, too great for speech! The Soul and its Destiny ! AVhence ? Whither ? Shall any pro- fane babbling drown those faint Whispers? Shall I smite these listening souls with any vain utterance of mine, when they are in this Presence ? that we might have one hour of real Worship, one hour of downright Prostration before the Mystery of the Soul ! That we might for but one hour in a week, yea, one in a year, fall prostrate and worshiping before that Mystery ! Is man become dead and senseless ? Are we wholly bewitched with Things, that we are so insensible 88 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. of Life ? For what are we here, in this world ? To what end did we take wing out of Eternity into Time ? Does any know ? Did any Soul bring a memory of that world into this ? Who shall speak to us the Solvent Word ? Is not the Church the fit place for the contem- plation of this Infinite Mystery ? After all our Science may we not yet prostrate ourselves there before the Un- solved Mystery of Life ? Is Prayer so foolish, in the presence of this Mystery ? Is there nothing in this illimitable Universe but these poor wriggling things we call men ? Is there nothing but fire balls spinning in their aimless orbits, or globes rolling like unruddered ships upon the sea of space, their passengers helpless victims of blind, chaotic storms ? This shining fabric of the Universe, is it a fool's motley, a death's-head its fit accompaniment ? Mystery, mystery, everywhere; and yet men are so pert and saucy in the x^resence of it! So heedless, so frivolous, like children sporting on the beach of the In- finite Sea. Do not these clouds touch us with wonder, that sweep through the high air ? Ah no ! for we have found that they are only steam. Does not the flash of the lightning and the roar and rumble of the thunder fill us with amazement ? No ! forsooth ! we know what that is. We can make as loud a noise with cannon ; and as for the lightning, we have trapped that, and know all about it. We have caught these old gods, and find them only images. Pull down the temples, for the gods are dead ! Break to pieces the ancient altars, for we shall not sacrifice thereon any more, nor fall prostrate before them. We have exposed these mysteries. The universe is dust, whirled by Blind Force ; man a louse, crawling upon a dunghill ! This illimitable Space, filled with roll- ing worlds ; we know what that is well enough. We have explored it all with our fine telescopes. We have sur- veyed and mapped this Illimitable. We have learned THE soul's way OF LIFE. 89 the courses of the stars, we have tracked the wild comet, and know the haunts thereof ! Away with your super- stition ; your awe ; your veneration ! Shall we venerate dust ? Worship blind, whirling forces ? Prostrate our- selves before a vast whirlwind of Nothing ? To what shall we pray ? Shall we address the atoms, as so many gods ? Shall we deify the stars, as did the ancients ? Shall we put Phoebus Apollo in the place of the Son of God ? How shall we find anything Intelligent in this blind, whirling mass ? Can the stars leave their fated courses to serve our needs ? Shall the horses of Fate be unhitched from the chariot of the world, and harnessed to our mortal chariots ? So scornfully speaks the skeptic, and goes on in his blind ways. God is dead; heaven a myth; prayer a vain babbling to Nothing ; worship, a relic of fear, which we are too brave to cherish. Hold, hold, thou hasty, foolish man ! When thou hast explained all things ; when thou hast measured the Illim- itable ; when thou hast found a plummet to sound the Unfathomable; when thou hast explored and bounded the Infinite ; when thou hast seized the scepter of Om- nipotence, and canst rule the stars in their orbit, and cause the wild, wandering comet to obey thee ; when thou hast seized Power ; when thou hast found Life, and canst give or take, create or destroy it ; when thou hast penetrated to the Source, found the Beginning, discov- ered the Reason of Creation ; when thou canst tell why one atom exists; why one impulse of Force throbs in the Universe ; when thou canst tell why the atoms cohere and mingle, and organize themselves into worlds and living forms; when thou knowest the purpose of Life, this illimitable, surging, mysterious Life, that throbs in every tiniest form, pulsates in plant and beast and bird and man ; this Life that throbs and glows and sparkles ; that sings and w^eeps ; that loves and aspires ; •90 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. that hopes and prays and worships ; — when thou canst tell what That is ; whence it is, why it is what its aim and purpose is, that it should bring forth and adorn worlds, clothing the hills with beauty, covering the plains with forests, filling the empty solitudes with joy and gladness; chanting forth its very joy of being in the song of birds, the hum of insects, and the poems and exultant prayers of Man ; when thou canst tell what That is, skeptic ; when thou canst answer but a single one of these questions of the Sphinx, then thou mayest proceed with thy conceited babbling, thy vain mocking, thy empty scorn of all Divine Mysteries. Go, fall prostrate before the first altar, or before the Unseen God, and pray that thy levity may be forgiven thee; that the God thou hast tempted and mocked strike thee not dead for thy folly and madness! Go, learn wisdom of the simplest child; for his questions will confute all thy learning. God hath verily chosen the weak things of this world to confound the wise. The merest fact defies thy wisdom, thou vain strut- ter and babbler in Nature's Temple! Thou hast not explained these things; thou hast only named them, and so with a name dismissed them ; and with a name cheated the soul in thee of Truth. So hast thou sold thy divine birthright for a poor mess of scientific (!) pot- tage ; and found thy heritage of truth and joy taken from thee. SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. ^>Kc LAW OF ASSOCIATION. With perfect good humor, I see that there is as little in common between many good people and myself as between myself and the inhabitants of Greenland and Patagonia. They do not love what I love, and so I can- not serve them. These laws of association are stern and inevitable. We cannot create, we can only obey. It is no fault of mine or of theirs that we find no profit or pleasure in each other; nor is it a fact at all to be lamented, so long as external relations do not presuppose such pleasure. Some say I should be more social, and make these people love me. But can I make positive attract positive, or negative negative? Can I make the blind man love beauty, or the deaf, music? They have no organs to apprehend what I would reveal. I have shouted at the top of my voice at these good souls, to convey my good-will, my universal love ; but never once have they heard my exclamations. They wait for me to come to them and make them my friends. They do not see that they are as unapproachable by me as if they were locked in a dungeon. I would fain come to them; I have earnestly striven to approach them ; but the walls are too thick, the locks too strong. I turn away, at length, and give over the attempt to break through barriers that God himself has built between us ; and I see at the same time that because I cannot reach them, they do not need me. I perceive that they are each to live his life, I mine; 91 92 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. in all neighborliness and kindness refraining from one another. The people I will go to see are not those whose bodies happen to be in my latitude and longitude, but those whose minds dwell in the same sphere with mine. I do not find it a bond of sympathy that another person is a citizen of the same town or city with me. I classify people by spiritual spheres, not by town boundaries. My fellow-citizen is not any Turk or Bushman of this village, not any gentleman or lord of this borough merely; but any soul, however stationed in life, wherever born and reared, whose mind dwells in the same sphere with mine. Plato and Socrates are my friends; the poor slave Epic- tetus. Emperor Aurelius, noble Seneca, are my neighbors ; the unknown Hindu sage, whose spirit shines vastly across dark centuries; the stern ascetic, dwelling apart from men, companioning with Truth; these are my good friends and neighbors of old time, whom I need not to go from my room to meet. They dwelt in other lands and times, but by the law of spiritual affinity they are my fellows. When shall we learn that our companions are repre- sentative of our various faculties? The faculties of my soul project themselves outwardly, and are reflected from various persons, whom I call my friends. The persons who do not reflect these faculties to me cannot by any possibility be my friends, but remain unknown, strangers and foreigners, though dwelling under my own roof. My love of Beauty links me to every known artist-prophet of that Divine Spirit; my love of Harmony makes me the lover of Mozart, Beethoven, Haydn, and other pipes of the spirit of spheral music. I am a prism, which breaks the Divine Light into a spectrum of myriad faculties and loves ; and each color is reflected by some persons, but not by others. Each soul is the center of Kosmos for itself, and all things, all persons, must take place secondary. SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. 93 SLAVERY AND UNION. After all our bloodshed in the cause of abolition of slaver}^, the fact remains that abolishing the institution did not abolish that trait in human nature which gave rise to the institution. The nature of the slaveholder is not changed by the act of taking away his slave. We may remove the slave from his house, his plantation; but until we have removed him from the country (yea, from the planet) where this slaveholder dwells, we have not taken him out of the reach of slavery. It is a poor achievement to merely knock the chains off a slave's limbs, if the chain-maker is to go on forging other chains. Slavery is not abolished until selfishness and sloth and cruelty are abolished. These exist not in the United States Constitution, nor in the Constitution of any state, but in the Constitution of Man, as at present organized. Who shall amend that Constitution, and make new by-laws, by which the others shall be annulled and made void? How shall such legislation be effected? Can any mere voting or passing of resolutions or enacting of statutes accomplish that ? What ! you say ; is it then'to no purpose that our brave millions suffered and died? Is freedom for the negroes then an illusion, and is Union, too, a dream, a vagary? Freedom for black men, or white men, my brother, is the right and privilege of honest labor at honest pay ; security of life and property ; freedom to think and speak and do the right ; freedom to grow and learn and become an in- telligent factor in a good and just Society. Have all black men or all white men these rights and privileges ? If not, Slavery is not yet abolished ; and the blood of our fathers was poured out for an end not yet consummated, but given in trust to us for its fu'lfillment. What is Union, and what does it mean to preserve it ? Is Union preserved when the secession of certain states is prevented ? Is 94 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. Union the voluntary or involuntary submission of certain numbers of men to certain other numbers of men? No; Union is the free and vital co-operation of all men to- ward the same end. It is a fusion not merely of names or laws, but of interests and aims. What is the relation between the North and South to-day? between the East and West? between manufacturing and agricultural sec- tions? Answer me these questions, and I will tell you whether Union still survives. LOVE AND MONEY. I HAVE sometimes thought that it would be well to utterly renounce the use of money for a time, in order to appreciate its true use. It has come to be a thing in itself, instead of as at first a symbol of service rendered. I do my friend a service, and he hands me a piece of silver, stamped with certain figures. What is that to me? I want appreciation, gratitude, and a responsive benefit. You cannot pay me with silver alone. This silver has come between friends and brothers, so that they cannot see each other through it. We have built a wall with the stuff, through which friendship cannot pass. Suppose we should for a season abjure all money, and return to a natural exchange of benefits. Eor my friend the baker, I paint a picture. He bakes for me a loaf of bread. Into my picture I paint love, sympathy, service. Into his dough he kneads the same, and bakes it fast. The loaf comes to me then with another flavor than that of the oven. It savors of the heart, whose fires of friend- ship helped the oven-heat to bake it for me. This service is divine. Or, for my friend the boot-maker I make a coat. That garment I stitch with the thread of love. I put into it something warmer than its cotton lining, namely, a lining of friendship. When I give it to my friend, it warms his heart as well as his back. He makes for me a pair of boots. He thinks of souls as well as soles, and his art looks to healing as well as heeling. SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. 95 The end with him is not alone a waxed end, but an end of service. He gives me these boots, and wherever I walk, his love has covered the earth for me. This is a divine commerce, its laws the laws of love and service. But thrust a piece of silver between this picture and this bread, this coat and these boots, and the threads of friendship which bound the gifts together are broken. We forget that our business Avas to serve our brother, and we remember only the silver. Looking on its glitter, our eyes are so dazzled that we cannot see the things it represents; namely, service and friendship. When the spirit of love shall come into trade, all the abuses and wrongs of business shall disappear. But before this spirit of love can enter, business must be placed upon the basis of co-operation, instead of competition. We cannot expect love to subsist between masters and slaves. That can subsist only between brothers and equals. When the effort of employers is to pay the smallest possible sum for a stated service, the aim of employees will be to render the smallest possible service for the stated sum. Selfishness awakes selfishness, love awakes love, gener- osity awakes generosity. THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE STATE. As I live I find so many points on which the indi- vidual cannot with good conscience yield obedience to the State, that I am often sore perplexed to know Avhether T should allow this relationship of citizen and State to longer subsist between myself and my fellow- men. My brothers, I cannot do in all things as you do, as you Avould have me do. I see other laws, other rela- tions between man and the universe, than those which you see. You in good faith assemble together in solemn council and enact statutes that I shall do thus and so ; but I do not give my consent to these ; I have no voice in their enactment ; and why should I yield obedience to 96 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. them ? Who made you masters over me ? No. I can- not always obey you. You will punish me, then ? Nay, you cannot do that, unless I will. You will take away my goods ? But I call nothing mine. All is God's ; and you cannot take away His from Him. You will cast me into prison ? Nay, you cannot do that, either. You may lock up this mortal flesh; these hundred and forty pounds of lime, sulphur, iron, potash, and the like, you may cast into a cell, and close the door upon them; but these are not me; you cannot shut me in that cell. I go whither I please. I have the freedom of the universe. You ask too much of me as the price of living with you under the same sky. Eemember, I am living under a higher Constitution than yours, and am bound by Laws which antedate your statutes. Before "Washing- ton, before Moses was. These were ; and I must respect Them, whatever becomes of my allegiance to yours. You willingly grant me the right to say these things, in abstract form, but when I begin to carry my statements into practice, you persecute me. If I object to your creeds, and declare allegiance to my own insight of the laws of the soul, you call me heretic. When I would vote, to aid some good public end, you demand of me that I shall assume certain obligations toward government ; that I shall engage to uphold the constitution, whatever iniquity it may now or sometime sanction ; and I cannot promise you these things. If I would be a citizen, and hold property, I must be and do so subject to your ever-changing moods. My estate is not safe ; my very reputation at the mercy of any wretch who chooses to summon me before a judge upon some ridiculous charge. You may arrest me at any time, and I must pay for the privilege of establish- ing my innocence, which should be clearly disproved, without annoyance to me, before you meddle with my SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. 97 freedom. And so, upon the whole, I am inclined to think that you charge too large a price for your whistle of citizenship, and I am moved to deny myself its purchase. But what shall we do ? asks some honest citizen, who would fain live at peace with God and all men. Shall we refuse to obey whatever law or custom seems wrong to us ? What if it is nje that are wrong ? And what will become of society, if its elements obey this centrifu- gal law, and fly apart in such chaotic fashion ? " We must live in the world," says one. " God put us here, and here we must somehow contrive to stay, along with our fellows." Yes, good brother, God indeed put thee here, but not to live after the fashion of some other creature. Never heed these doubts and fears, these weak questionings after results. With results thou hast positively nothing to do. Obey the law thou seest, and leave results to God. The world groans in travail with higher laws, striving to be born. Do thou perform thy part as good midwife to help them into light. Each man fears his neighbor, and cannot see that the neighbor but waits his example to take a stand for right and truth. We mutu- ally paralyze, instead of mutually helping, because each fears the other's opinion, not knowing that it is secretly the same as his own. A bold man, who fears not to plant himself on truth, quickly finds himself a teacher and leader of other men, simply because most men wait for some other to set the example, and are ready enough to follow as soon as some one is brave enough to lead. One man may thus reform a nation, by standing fast, and hesitating not to utter and perform whatever he per- ceives to be true and good. The first flash of a new truth across an earnest mind predicts a thunder-shock of reform in the society around it. Our standards of right are narrow and artificial. We would have every man do as we do ; that we call right. 98 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. But for any other than ourself it might be not right, but very wrong. Nature cannot be trapped in any of our nets of artificial ethics. She will have her own broad way of life. She is diversified; we would cramp and narrow her to our own organic methods. Our codes of ethics are made from the individual point of view, not the universal; hence, they are inadequate. They may suit me, or you, but they cannot possibly tit the great order of Life, with its endless variety. No ethical pro- crustean bed can be made for the great scheme of life. Nature hath her own laws, and you or I shall not abridge them. Is this dangerous doctrine ? Do you fear its results ■upon the sot, the sensualist? But these do not now obey your fine prohibitory ethics. Why fear that they shall find argument for what they now do without justi- fication of argument ? They are not anxious to justify their conduct to you or me. Do you think they care for your or my ideal standard? No. Their fault is not a wrong ethics, but a disregard of ethics. A wrong ethics, even, would help them, if in no other way than to set them thinking. The thoughtful man will not go far astray. Life is so large, so diversified, that we are constantly in danger of abridging it with our ethics and politics. Man is much larger than any social scheme. He cannot be treated like a pot-plant, and set to blossom finely for some Sunday-school Society. His roots will not go into your fine pot. They are sunk too deep in nature. If you cut them off, he withers. The damnation of man is not in any future hell. It is in this present wretched, tame, puny life that he lives in so-called civilized society. Where is the wild vigor, the broad action, the fearless soaring thought that should be his ? Tamed, tamed, and most miserably subdued ! Caged for centuries in Church, State, conventionalities of all kinds, his spirit, his wild SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. 99 freedom and life, are wholly suppressed. Wretched, black-frocked, solemn, humbled Man ! Awake ! Awake ! Let me give thee a taste of the blood of Truth, that thy wild, native strength and ferocity may return to thee ! Thou hast cowered and trembled and skulked in thy cage too long ! Thy jungle nature is not dead, but only sleep- ing ! Tremble no longer at the rod of thy Keeper ! He will flee from thee, when once thou hast shown thy teeth and claws, and convinced him that thou canst yet bite and tear ! Good, black-frocked pastors, solemn wigged and cloaked justices, may tremble at these cries of the soul, and dread that chaos will come again. But not so. Man is dan- gerous only when caged and chained. Freedom, freedom, is the mother of Good : the freedom which is the un- trammeled outflow of the whole nature of the soul. I fear only slavery, oppression. Man was not made to be dammed, nor damned. The stream of his life must flow freely, or it will burst its continents, and overflow the villages. Our law-making has set itself against the laws and constitution of nature. A conclave of solemn men — if indeed they be even solemn and sober — agree that what they wish is right and proper for all men : and straightway they decree that all men shall do thus and so. ^' By the grace of God, and the majesty of the State, be it enacted thus and so : — and woe unto him who dares overstep the bounds of action thus laid down. Let him be immured in a dungeon, or be hanged by the neck until dead ! " But my good fellows, so solemn in your own conceit, Avho gave you the keys of life and death ? Who gave you the Sword of Justice ? I ask for your creden- tials, when you thus pose as the agents of God. Let us have some sign, some miracle ! This rod which you hold out over Egypt, to expel the frogs and lice, let it bud and blossom, and we will believe in you. Alas ! You can show no divine credentials ! You are spies ! traitors ! 100 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. You have stolen the seal of God, and you stamp your mortal decrees with the divine inscription. But you shall be exposed ! exposed ! There is no safety for the State in these blind decrees. Do you think the gallows has any terror for the man who has lost the fear of God ? It means nothing but death, and every man who goes to war faces that, every man who stays at home faces it. Death is not so terri- ble as you would have it believed. Your sturdy crimi- nal faces it as bravely as the pattern saint. The gallows is at best a scarecrow, which no cunning bird ever really fears. Execution to the criminal does not mean what it means to the sentimental Sunday-school miss, who brings her flowers and tears to the criminal's cell. To him, it has something of the martyr's fate about it ; and he knows that he will be respected among his pals in just the degree that he bears himself bravely and manlike at the hour of death. "Let us die like men," was the exclamation of one convict to his fellows, at a recent execution. Yes, even that brutal instrument could not force them to die like brutes. Do you think that such an attitude of bravery could fail to excite some admira- tion ? I doubt if the good men who condemned these criminals could have faced death so manfully. Do you think to repress men's natures in such ways as this? No. It cannot be done thus. But how shall we control our criminal classes, asks my anxious statesman. My dear brother, how does God control them? You do not know ? You think he does not control them? Ah! there is your fallacy. If the criminal has God on his side, beware how you meddle with him. You do not believe in God ? Oh ! Why did you not tell me that before ? So we are to accept you and your laws as a substitute for God and his justice ! Fine presumption, this ! Did you create man, my fine deity ? Did you order the foundation of the world, that SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. 101 it should not be removed forever? "Canst thou bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion ? Canst thou lead forth Mazzaroth in his season? " Nay, leave me not in anger ! I would reason with thee. " Shall I submit to be robbed and murdered in the pub- lic highway, trusting God to protect me ? " Well questioned, my friend. You have found a spot to stand on, whence you may issue some decrees of public safety. I grant that if you do not wish to carry arms, you may delegate some certain guardsmen to carry them for you, to protect you against wild beasts, or wild men, that might threaten your life : for self-preservation is the first law of nature. It is the divine decree that you shall live. Tor this were you born. Faculties for self-protec- tion were given you. Self-protection is the first pro- vision which nature makes for individual life. The plant has thorns, the beast has teeth and claws, the bird has beak and talons. Every organism in nature hath a means of defence, to protect its life. And so shall Society arm itself, with spikes or clubs, against wild beasts of any sort. But with self-defence your law-making should end. You have no right to decree for any man defences against himself. His Maker will look to that. "But the interactions of individuals are endless, in society," say you : " and no man can hurt himself with- out also hurting others. To protect others, we must also protect him against himself." A specious argu- ment, good friend, fair to listen to : but what if you should carry it out ? Will you regulate the amount of my daily food, lest I acquire dyspepsia, and hurt my fellow-men with sour looks? Will you regulate my hours of sleep, lest I become irritable through insomnia, and afiiict my friends with peevishness ? Will you con- trol my very thoughts by statute laws, lest I utter angry Avords, and Avound the ears and hearts of my associates ? There are other daggers than those of steel. May I use 102 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. the one, but not the other, free of legal consequence ? Where will you draw your line, my friend ? At what point will you cease to interfere with my free actions, on the plea that my fellows are involved ? Nay, nay, do not go. Listen. I shall not snatch away your wig of office, I shall not open the doors of the prisons. I shall not abolish the police, nor even the militia, for there are many wild beasts against whom we need to be defended. But I would have you put your glasses solemnly upon your nose, and with wrinkled brows read again your massive tomes of legal enactment. Kead them in the light of Truth, of Love; and see whether there is no other method than this of Repres- sion for dealing with the evils of Society. And while you are reading laboriously your recorded enactments I suggest that you read also the words of a certain teacher of the Hebrews, one Jesus by name, whose doc- trine of Love, more or less distorted by human igno- rance, you will find expounded in a certain ancient Book which, though it may not be found in your house, nor in the law or public library, may yet be had at most reputable book-shops. Read that also, and learn whether there be not a Justice which works from within the Soul, through Love ; a Justice which, once operative, would put to shame all your minute enactments ; build asylums in place of jails ; erect schools instead of scaf- folds ; and arm its ministers not with clubs and pistols, but with the sword of the Spirit, which is mighty to conquer, but mightier to save. This is the extent of my Anarchy: that you make the laws of God, instead of the laws of men, the safe- guard and defender of the State; that you trust Love instead of Hate to heal the wounds in the heart of mankind. SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. 108 LOVE AND LEGISLATIO:^/ When we have come to understand the power of Love, and have adopted that as our rule of government, we shall find legal enactments of all sorts disappearing very fast from our statute books. When we have learned this one truth, that a man can never be reformed from without, but only from within, we shall perceive the futility of many of our wretched laws, which aim to compel a man to virtue. You cannot force me to love beauty, or truth, or virtue, my zealous law-maker. Do you love the harmonies of Beethoven, my good man ? No ? Then I will shut you in jail on bread and water until you have learned to love them. Do you adore the sculptures of Phidias, the mas- terpieces of Angelo or Eax^hael ? Does your soul thrill at the sight of Divine Beauty shining forth through these works of the human hand ? No? You tolerate ugliness in your house, your furniture, your dress. That is very deplorable. You shall be reformed. Forty stripes per day shall be laid upon your bared back, till you have con- fessed your love of Beauty. We shall see whether you will longer defy the works of God, closing your heart to the pleading knock of the Spirit of Beauty. You shall no longer offend our eyes with your ugly house, your hideous-colored dress, your awkward manner and un- graceful speech. You shall become a worshiper, an adorer of Beauty, or your back shall smart for it. You are a rebellious and stiff-necked sinner. You are paying tribute to Chaos and the Devil of Discord. You shall bend the knee to the God of Kosmos, Beauty, or your leg- bones shall be broken. Bow, adore, worship ! You will not ? You cannot ? Eebel ! Away with him to the tor- ture ! Wrack his bones ! Scourge him ! We shall see whether such contumacy may go unpunished. Take heed, men, take heed, lest ye also come to this fate ! O my j)oor brother, thou canst never be thus led to the 104 LIFE AND LIGHT FIIOM ABOVE. Shrine of Beauty. It lies far from that cell door which they have closed upon thee. Stripes and blows and cruel words can never open thine eyes to these divine visions. Let me come to thee. Let me take thee by the hand, and with gentle words entreat thee. Let me lead thee into green fields and beside still waters. Let me take away from before thine eyes the hard task which has been appointed thee. Thou art blinded, poor brother, by the dust of the shop and factory. The smoke of the forge comes between thine eyes and the sun, and thou hast not seen the beauty of God's universe. Let me be thy guide, thy friend and lover, to reveal to thee these things thou hast not seen. Then shall thy soul in thee begin to stir, and thou shalt feel new forces playing through thy being. The harp-strings of thy soul, so long untouched and silent, shall thrill to the touch of Beauty, and thou shalt begin to love the divine harmonies. That spirit shall clothe thy life in a new dress. House, furnishings, raiment, speech, actions, all shall be clothed in that Beauty which has thus dawned on thy soul. So shalt thou come to see and to love and to worship Beauty ; but not by the means thy fellows have taken to bring thee there. Men cannot reveal Beauty to thee ; but with open eyes and free glances thou shalt see it, and it shall compel thee to love and adore. Ah, but, says my good law-maker, that is esthetics. Ethics cannot be based upon such principles as you sug- gest. A man must do right. If he will not, he must be compelled. Hold, friend, what is Eight ? Is it of a different nature from Beauty ? Must not a man do right from the love of Eight, just as he manifests beauty from a perception and love of Beauty ? And can you inculcate Eight, more than Beauty, with stripes and wrackings ? Can you starve a man into the perception and love of Truth ? Will a blow on the back make the eye more sensible of Beauty, SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. 105 or the mind of Truth ? Can a man see more Truth or Beauty through the gratings of a prison door ? Where lies the sensibility to Truth and Eight? Is it in the skill, that you can awake it with blows ? Is it not rather in the Soul, to be awakened by love ? Stubborn child, that will not see the rule of multipli- cation ! Beat him ! Make him stand in the corner till his wits are sharper ! Put a fool's-cap on his wooden skull ! Point the linger at him, as one incorrigible and perverse ! Is that your best and most effective mode of education ? Are you not ashamed of such a mode ? Ah ! that is not done now, you say. Whips and stools and fool's-caps have gone out of fashion in our modern school-room. Love is coming in at the front door, and the signs of force have gone out at the back. Well and good ; but how about the school-room for the larger pupils ; the school-room of the State ? Have the instruments of punishment gone out of that, too ? Alas, no! The scaffold stands, darkening the earth with its shadow. Dark, cold corners, guarded by armed men, wait for the dull pupil still. Lock him up, the rascal ; he will not do his sum. Pinch him, scourge him, set your faces against him, until his wits are quicker and his will more nimble to obey your commandments. And if these pun- ishments avail not, there is the scaffold. Let him at last hang on that by the neck until dead ; in the sight of the whole world, that other bad pupils may take warning at his fate ! Poor boy ! Born with addled and contrary wits ; reared by cruel masters, who had nothing but blows for thee ; thy life cut off from all helpful and refining influences ; thy mother's hand, perchance, the only one that ever touched thee in love, to wake thy better nature ! Poverty lashed thee with her whip, choked thee, chained thy spirit to cruel and darkening tasks. Thou camest into a world at war with thee from the beginning. At once 106 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. when thou didst raise thy head in the world, the Giant Competition did seize thee, and how couldst thou wrestle wdth such as he ? Thou hadst no sling and stone of genius or wealth, with which to slay this Gath from afar. He crushed thee to the ground, again and again, until thou utterly beaten didst flee from him, to live as thou couldst. Whose sin is it, that thou art dull and fro ward ? That thy poor wits cannot solve the hard problems of life ? That thou canst not and will not perform the tasks thy school-masters have set thee ? Is it wholly thy sin ? If thou hadst been born of refined and culti- vated parents, and hadst been reared in the presence of Beauty, Truth, and Good, thine end might have been far different. But didst thou choose thy birthplace ? Didst thou select that hard environment ? Nay, nay. Whose sin is it, then, that hath brought thee to the felon's cell, or the black scaffold? I dare not answer. I fear it is my own. I hear a voice of dread asking me, '' Where is thy Brother ? Where is thy Brother ? " I dare not say I am not my Brother's keeper. Would I could say, I am not my Brother's jailer ! Would I could say, I am not my Brother's executioner! What is my purpose in these exclamations, these frantic pleadings, these hard accusations of myself and society ? What method have I to propose that shall be better than those now in use ? I propose no methods. I have no prescription for you, save only this : ^' Thou shalt love thy brother as thyself. Love suffereth long, and is kind. Love vaunteth not itself ; is not puffed up. And now abideth Faith, Hope, Love ; and the greatest of these is Love." LITERATURE AND LIFE. D>ublic libraries the new books poured out every month by the prolific Press. Already we have a Keview of Keviews, a Digest of Public Prints, a Bulletin of Books, to give us in brief form the contents of magazines, papers, and new books. Soon we shall need a Bulletin of Bulletins, to know what Bulletin we want; a Digest of Digests, to know what Digest we desire ; and I fear the end of all this Digesting will be a sad state of Indigestion ; a chronic sickness of books, resulting in an utter loathing of all intellectual food. We have played the intellectual gormand till we are like to be in the strait of the Eoman epicure who offered a great reward for a new pleasure. We shall be at last advertising for one new and readable book. Already the public stomach, utterly weary with its vast and unremit- ting labors, needs to be stimulated and spiced and sauced with all manner of literary condiments. The readers of our daily prints need to be decoyed by flaming headlines, into reading the matter beneath. Our "popular " maga- zines advertise the authors of their stories and articles LITERATURE AND LIFE. Ill more loudly than the contributions themselves. The great Doctor Jones has a contribution in this number ! Before we know it^ we are trai^pecl into reading the article, only to learn that the name so trumpeted was the only valu- able portion of the contribution. He has done some- thing, sometime, really worth hearing of, said something really worth saying; and now we are listening to his thoughtless clamor in the vain hope of hearing another sensible utterance. But he has had his say, and should relapse into Silence, not continue to afflict us with his reputation. But all this will end, sometime. Sometime we shall weary of these futile clamors, and turn again to the rich old Books that have survived the wrecks of Time. Plato, Homer, Seneca, Epictetus, Aurelius, Plutarch, the sacred Books of the East, the few real Books written in later times, — these shall again have our attention, and we shall apologize to these Serene Presences for our neglect of them in the midst of the clamoring babble of lesser men. There is no education, but only irritation, in the read- ing of most modern books. The boy of fifty years ago, who by the light of a log fire drank in the thoughts of three or four good Books (borrowed perhaps from a neighbor), got more real benefit from them than our young men do from the numberless trivial books they find in public libraries and reading-rooms. OBSCENE BOOKS. We have Societies for the Suppression of Vice; we should have Societies for the Suppression of Books. Some have been very active in suppressing so-called obscene books. Perhaps these obscene books are no more harm- ful than the greater number of books published: and quite possibly some of them would be far more profitable reading for any person. What book is obscene? That which leaves me in my filthiness ; which does not lift me 112 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. above the dirt in which I daily delve and dig. If /were not obscene no book could make me so ; and it* is the book which finds me and leaves me so that is really obscene, and worthy to be suppressed. SELF IN LITERATUEE. Inasmuch as all a man's writing is a transcript of his own life, why not at once establish literature upon that basis ? What is history ? Is it not the impression made upon individuals by public events ? Carlyle writes a history of the French Revolution. But when we have read it, we find it a history of Carlyle' s revolutions. It is a transcript of the battles, struggles, hopes, fears, of Thomas Carlyle. Here is a volume of essays entitled Representative Men. Mr. Emerson has told us what he thinks of Shake- speare, Goethe, Swedenborg, Montaigne, Plato, Bonaparte. But we perceive that these names are representative in more senses than one. At length we discover that Emer- son is the man they represent. Montaigne is the skep- ticism of Emerson ; Plato, his idealism. And so does literature at last become representative of the men who make it. It is in vain that we try to conceal ourselves behind some historic figure. We put on the mask of Csesar, and think we shall be mistaken for that heroic Roman ; but the keen-eyed reader sees through our thin disguise, and discovers that our Csesar is a myth. It seems to me that we should recognize this fact at once in our writing and cease this dodging about behind other men. Let me tell my story. To speak accurately, I do not know anything of this Caesar, Plato, Sweden- borg. They are simply to me mirrors in which I see my own face reflected. Why should I describe that face in the glass,' in its various phases, as Caesar, Plato, Sweden- borg? I think that honest confession is good for the soul; LITERATURE AND LIFE. 113 good for my soul and for thine. Do not think me free of egotism when I talk of somewhat else than myself. It is the same self speaking, whether I call it Plato or another name. Do not imagine that I offend your egotism more by thus entertaining you with my affairs. Be- lieve me, you read nothing but your own affairs. What I say of Plato, or of myself, or of any other wise or foolish man, I say of you if I say it to you. Believe me, friend, you can see nothing but yourself. You look at Plato, and see — yourself. You listen to Cicero, and hear — the echo of your own words. Whether I write of one or of another, I write of you, or you do not read me. You, as well as I, can find naught else than Self, in litera- ture or life. Why, then, shall I not write of myself, and set you reading of yourself ? Trust me, good friend, you are at last interested in nothing else. THE STUDY OF SELF. When we are told we must read history, I say, yes, but why ? 0, that you may know what men did long ago. But men are doing the same to-day. Well, then, read the history of to-day. Why? To learn what other men are doing. But other men are doing very much what I am doing ; and at any rate I can interpret their actions only by my own. Then I will study my own. But do you not care what other men do ? Yes, it is because I care that I study myself; for I perceive that only through understanding myself can I understand them. The cruelty of Kero is unintelligible to me save through my own cruelty. The virtue and love of Christ is unknown to me save through my own. Christ owes his reputation to the divinity of men, So 114 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. far as they are divine they apprehend his divinity ; no further. Would you then reduce all study to the study of Self ? There is no other study. I did not ordain it so. I merely announce the fact. But do you interpret action in the same way ? Is there no action save upon the Self ? Only the Self can act upon the Self. You touch me only through myself, and I you. But you have not answered my question. Will you cease to talk to others, to act upon them ? I cannot talk to others, I will only speak. Others may hear, but they hear themselves, not me. But do they not hear somewhat not themselves ? How else do they grow ? They grow by activity of themselves. That which acts, grows. But when you speak to them do you not stimulate them to act ? I supply an object for them to act upon. They can- not refrain from acting upon something. They are organized Activity. But you furnish them a somewhat better to act upon than they else would have had. What they love they will find. If they entertain me, it is because they love what I represent. If I do not rep- resent it to them, they will seek and find it elsewhere. But should a man then sit still, because he cannot act upon another than himself ? No; for man acts upon himself only by indirection; by acting as upon somewhat not himself. Is philanthropy then in vain ? Nothing is in vain. Philanthropy achieves its ends, or better ones, by unknown methods. When I contemplate the vast accumulation of books in our public libraries, I say to myself. How shall a man LITERATURE AND LIFE. 115 read all this ? And if not all, how much shall he attempt ? Is there any criterion ? Take history : what shall I read ? That of the greatest countries ? But what is greatness ? And have not all countries been great ? Or why should Kome furnish me with more profitable reading than the history of the Sioux Indians ? Caesar took provinces, Sitting Bull took scalps; but it was one ambition that moved both. Or is it philosophy? Then why are the opinions of Plato more important than those of some wild man who knows nothing of the schools ? Shall I get anything from either but what I bring ? Can Plato give me his experience any more than the wild man his ? How many nations are buried in oblivion ? And if I can get on without the history of these, why may I not do as well without the history of others ? Why is France or England so much more important than Patagonia or Kew Zealand ? Is it because the professors of history say so ? But possibly their judgment is not correct. It may be biased. Let us look these things straight in the face, brothers. While we are doing homage to Plato, let us remember that he did homage to no one. We think we must read the standard authors. Why ? Be- cause they are standard ? But what is this " standard " ? We find often that the writer most read by us was him- self no reader. We quote most those who never quoted. AVe worship most those who worshiped no man. Is there not a significant hint in all this ? Our thirst for scholarship is insatiable, but is it wholly commendable ? Is there not, after all, something better than scholarship ? What is scholarship but an acquain- tance with what other men have done ? Is it not better to do somewhat ourself ? To get acquainted with our own personality and possibilities ? This history — what is it but a record of human life ? And is not our own life sufficiently interesting and im- 116 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. portant ? Why should I neglect my own experience to read that of Caesar or some other ? I am the race in epitome. In me is a world, full of conquest and defeat, full of philosophy and art. All that I can find in any book I can find in my own soul. Here lies the world, as it lay before Plato and Jesus. It is my world, not theirs. They did not exhaust its soil. There is a plenty of nour- ishment for me. I will sink my roots deep down into its old soil, and draw therefrom the elements I need for my unfoldment. I will cease to mourn that I have not time or strength to read the vast accumulation of books that burden the shelves of libraries. These old grave- clothes of the world's genius, — why should I drag them forth from their sepulcher, and shake out of them the dust and mold of centuries, and put them upon my own limbs ? RHETORICAL AUTHORITY. Speech existed before Grammar ; the body before Anatomy : and speech was correct, body healthful. What have we done that we must needs study Grammar and Anatomy ? Let us find what we have done, to render these studies necessary, and undo that. We can never reach good speech or good health otherwise. You say a certain expression is not right. I must say thus, instead of so. But why ? You say the Grammar so states it ? But what is the Grammar ? The record and analysis of Speech, as it is found in the most culti- vated. But who are the cultivated ? They who have been taught to speak by this same Grammar ! So you go in a circle, and do not bring me the Authority I ask for. I would know why one phrase is correct, another incorrect. Is it because a majority so decide it ? A ^ninority ? Because we so received it ? LITERATURE AND LIFE. 117 LITEEATUEE AND ACTION. The literature that does not bear direct fruit in action is worse than poison to the mind. With the true writer, the pen is a sword, with which to stab to the death mere books and literature. Have at them ! Kun them through ! Let out that thin pale stuff that passes for blood in them ! They shall no longer crowd and jostle us in this busy Avorld. Troops of pale ghosts ; goblins damned ; specters unearthly, lurid with false fires ; fiends of the pit, escaped to pollute our vital air ; back, back to your dark aud sul- phurous haunts ! back to your night-caverns, your dream- haunted halls of inferno ! Cast no longer your shadows on the fair world. Make way for Action. BOOKS AND NATURE. The fields and woods are my best library and study. In the multitude of ^Drinted books I am confused, and my brain whirls with the press of matter. Such a mass of rubbish have men left behind them to encumber the world ! The shelves of our public libraries groan, being burdened with the weight of so much vain learning. History, recording the events of nations; the vain ex- ploits of kings and conquerors, over whom grim Time long ago piled the soil of oblivion ; narrating the hopes and achievements of petty heroes, whose lives flashed out against the black midnight sky of eternity for an instant and were gone, — swallowed up of night and darkness ; the pomp of great cities, the splendor of royal courts, the majesty of war, the triumphs, victories, spoils, the intrigues, plots, assassinations, revolutions, the growth of empires and their decay : all these lie recorded in books, which burden our libraries and appall the timid reader with the vast mass of their learning. But what, after all, signifies this great accumulation of human records ? We are here to live in the present, not in the past. These men and times are gone. History hath its lesson, but the 118 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. present is our chief instructor. Experience, Experience, cries the soul ! that is my school ; for that came I into the world. Books, books, books ; words, words, words ; until the weary brain throbs and aches with the multi- tude of counsel ! Verily, of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness to the flesh. The true lo\rer of his fellow-men will not increase this burden of knowledge by any frivolous additions. Few books are worth the study of an earnest, sincere soul. Most books are written frivolously, out of the mere surface of life, and have no value to the earnest man. A shrub, a flower, a tree, a mere blade of grass, holds me as by a spell ; and from these voices of God in nature I receive blessed truth. But books are vitiated thought. A man has mixed his personality with pure truth, and offers me of that cup to drink. I wish my wine pure from the cup of nature. Every man's best instruction comes from life. Books at best do but awake the echoes of experience ; and who would not rather hear the new and original Voice than any however skillfully awakened echoes ? Nature is the dictionary to which we must go for the true meanings of our words. The poet sings of the murmur of the brook. What does Webster's Unabridged tell us of the meaning of that word ^'murmur." Nothing at all, unless we already know ; and then we do not need Webster to tell us. We must go to God's Unabridged if we would know what words mean. The poet's vocabulary is found in the Book of Nature. He who uses a word which he does not find in that Book, takes the word in vain. Men borrow words, and use them without having proved them. THE PERSONAL AND THE UNIVERSAL. FRIEND, shall we mourn that we seem to have be- come to each other a dim reminiscence ; a floating vapor LITERATURE AND LIFE. 119 on the far horizon ; a" bit of scud or foam ; anything but substantial Persons, between whom any sort of human intercourse is possible ? Is it not the sign of an ever- encroaching, infinite Somewhat, which is slowly but fatally engulfing this blatant Personality, which would obtrude upon its friends its whims and caprice, its colics and rheumatism ? When you can write to me and the stars at the same time, do so ; I will gladly pay the postage on your letter. But wait not for the Personal to utter itself. I am not interested in your affairs. I trust you are not in mine. But whatever of universal Truth shall emanate from you, I claim that for myself, and demand that you shall give it me. Your observations of the stars ; your deep-sea soundings and dredgings ; your visions and heard oracles ; these I am interested in. To publish and disseminate Thoughts is the highest use of railroads and postal systems. For mere gossip and chatter the post-boy is too swift. Commit these to snails and tortoises. Such messengers will arrive too soon. But lightnings from the skies are not swift enough couriers for Thoughts. LITERATURE AND THE SOUL. My scorn of mere " literature " is a thing too deep for words. The bells and trumpery, the frills and furbelows, the gewgaws and gimcracks of the " writer's art " I do most deeply abhor and imprecate. Write ? Is it enough that I should seize pen and paper, and in a wild frenzy fill page after page Avith mere hieroglyphics ? To what end does "literature " exist ? Is it an end in itself, so that mere penmanship is the sole condition of success ? Or is it merely a medium, a channel, through which a rich soul may pour its riches or a poor soul its poverty ? Not until we perceive that literature is merel}^ a con- venient means of intercommunication for minds shall we 120 LIFE AND LIGHT mOM ABOVE. arrive at any true criterion for criticism. " Literary criti- cism ? " There can be no such thing, as commonly under- stood. True criticism is an examination of the contents of literature, not of the literature itself. What is the man saying ? What is his revelation ? Is it some deep secret of his inmost life, some truth fetched up like a pearl from the ocean-deeps of his being? Not mere scum and froth, mere debris and driftwood of the sur- face, but pure gems from the deepest and darkest caves, to which he, regardless of pains and terrors, has dived in search of them ; these, and these only, can content us. Books for the most part are mere botanical collections of dried and pressed flowers. A book should be a living garden, fragrant with thought. Let me cut off my right hand sooner than allow it to offend the Most High with vain and frivolous scribbling. For every foolish word written let me receive ten strokes upon the palm with a ferrule, in the fashion of school-room discipline. So shall I learn discretion in the use of the pen, and offend no longer the souls of my readers. Who is worthy to wear the writer's garland ? He who submits himself to the Most High, as amanuensis for His Revelations ; he who, in devoutness of soul, lifts up his eyes to the heavens, and writes as he is moved by the Holy Spirit. Thank God for one Book in our prolific English tongue which at least claims to have been pro- duced by men who wrote as they were moved by the Holy Ghost, and spake as the Spirit gave them utterance. Sin- cerity, downright honesty, deadly earnestness, terrible and awe-inspiring conviction must characterize the Book which we admit as inspired of God. No trifler, no babbler, no gossiper, no jingler, ever yet achieved a place in the hearts of men. We laugh, we admire, we commend, we even buy the book which Vanity has produced ; but we do not wor- ship it, we do not love it. It sweeps by in the procession of Things, in the current of Driftwood, in the stream of LITER ATUKE AND LIFE. 121 Appearances which make up the sensations of life ; but it does not enter into us, it does not become of us, to par- take of our own immortality. The least admixture of self-interest in a man's motive will spoil his inspiration. Let him take one thought for his reward, and the vital link is broken between him and the Spirit that gives him Truth. The gleam of gold will blind the finest eye to the vision of truth. The eye must be single, in order that the whole being may be full of light. The least of subjects may be viewed in such a relation that Universal Wisdom will inspire the soul to deal with it. It is not a fine subject that can make a fine writer. We seek for the secret of success in this or that writer. We think it was a fortunate subject, a conspiring circum- stance, a chance event, that gave him his place among the Immortals. But not so. If the man be great, his dis- course will be wise, whatever his subject. The magic wand of true wisdom can transform the least of things into somewhat divinely beautiful. A scientist can make a grain of sand seem as wondrous as a star. The greatest ever shines within the least. The eye that is open to universal truth perceives a world in every smallest atom. So far as I have the mind of God I make divinely beauti- ful whatever I touch. Be it stick or stone, hut or temple, ant-hill or nation of men, my subject glows in the light of divine wisdom, and seems the greatest thing on earth. Not fine subjects, then, or great occasions, should en- gage the attention of the writer ; but his aim should be to lift himself daily higher in that atmosphere of Divine Light where Truth has her habitation. As he lifts him- self above the illusions of the world, into the realm of eternal Verity, he becomes a Eevelator to his fellows ; and the Book which he writes will take its place among the Holy Scriptures of the world, revered by all good souls. 122 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. I do not contend that Literature should have but one form, the Prophetic. The utterance of pure Truth, in oracular form, is the prophet's office; and of such the highest literatures, the Sacred Books of the world, are chiefly composed. But there may be many works in the same spirit. Eomance, drama, poem, novel, oration, biography, history, all may be in the spirit of Reve- lation. 'Tis not the form, but the spirit, that determines the character of a book. The parables of Jesus, the fables of ^sop, the passion plays of the middle ages, " Pilgrim's Progress," More's " Utopia," are examples of different forms of literature which serve one end, the moral elevation of mankind. The age of romance for its own sake has doubtless passed. The coming literature will be the literature of the Soul ; in all its various forms serving faithfully but one end, the spiritual elevation of Man. It will be as various as the many-sided nature of the race ; no cold, ascetic production, no Puritanical Sun- day-school tales, no bald exhortation to virtue ; but a full, rich stream of human life, dyed with humanity's purest thoughts and feelings ; relating every phase of life and conduct to that great Eternal Life which is the true life of the soul. ORIGINALITY IN WRITING. The use of the new writer is that he presents the old truth in a new dress, in which some few men will recog- nize it as their own who did not so before. If any writer imagine that he can add a single new truth to the stock of human wisdom, he is of all men most miserable ; for disappointment and discouragement await him upon the very threshold of the temple of learning. But if he say at the outset with Solomon that there is no new thing under the sun ; that the thing which hath been said is the thing that will be said ; there is a place for him ; he writes not as they that have no hope. LITERATURE AND LIFE. 123 I am not ambitious to deliver some new and startling message to the world. If a man's message is startling, be sure it is not true ; for the true things have all been said, and in many ways ; though not all heard. I sus- pect your promising writer. I fear his promise will never be kept. But the man who Avrites quietly, know- ing that he is but re-echoing sentiments as ancient as the sun, he will at last be heard ; for we do all love truth uttered in the voice of a living man, a man of our own land and age. Why does Nature continue to send men into the world ? Man after man, — the procession is endless ; and all the same, some cynic might say : all wearing the same form, all grinning in the same mask, a most dreary, monotonous procession. Each man steps in the tracks of his predecessor, and keeps time to the same tune. Here and there one thrusts out a leg or an arm, to attract some attention to himself, as not one of this dreary mass ; but so he does not distinguish himself, except for oddity. The true sage, looking around and seeing that all the creatures in this long procession wear the same form, and that if they were to exchange clothes, or alter the cut of their beards, they would be effectually disguised and confounded with each other, knows that to seek dis- tinction by any originality of dress or manner is beyond the possible. He concludes to acquiesce in this monotony and uniformity of things, content to do Avhat other men have done, and done perchance far better than himself. But behold ! He suddenly finds that by acquiescing in conformity he has become distinctive and peculiar; he has made the unique declaration that all men declare alike ; the discovery that no one man can discover any- thing ; and by seeking to hide himself in the mass, has become the most conspicuous figure in it. So do all things work by indirection; and the way to a thing is the path away from it. 124 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. FEELING IN LITEEATUKE. A MAN must betray some interest in his writing, or it has no charm for others. A man came to Demosthenes and told him in tame tones of a grievance which he wished to have redressed at law by the great orator. Demosthenes listened, and at the end replied, " I do not believe that you have suffered any grievance.'' There- upon the client flew into a passion, and enlarged upon his wrong so eloquently that Demosthenes took the case. Unless you feel your message, my good writer, do not come to the public with it. Do not imagine that the public will be moved by anything that fails to stir your soul. Come to me frothing at the mouth, like Car- lyle, or like Mohammed, and I will believe that you have in good truth seen some visions. Emerson is profound. He has depths like the sea, and heights like the Hima- layas, and his soul lies vast abroad on the world, touch- ing every phase of feeling; but I miss in him the pro- phetic scream, the vital cry of the prophet. Carlyle, on the contrary, is forever tearing out large handfuls of his hair, and casting it to the winds, and you can see the foam fly from his mouth as he pours forth the stream of his inspired eloquence. You can easily believe that he has seen somewhat awful and fatal ; that out of high heaven a light has flamed forth and smitten him with a divine ecstasy ; that he has come with the very trumpet of the archangel in his hand, to wake a dead world with its penetrating blast. I imagine that the reason Emer- son was not given this great trumpet to blow is that his lungs are not strong enough. The girth of his chest is not sufficient to make him a trumpeter of the gods. He glows with a heavenly lire, the flame of divine wisdom burns on his fine brow, and he casts a celestial radiance wherever he goes. His office is not to wake the dead, but to cheer and warm the living. Carlyle is sent to LITERATURE AND LIFE. 125 stand before sepulchers, and to cry out to the entombed, " Come forth, ye dead ; wake to real life, shake off your cerements, and stand forth ! '' Emerson will make a fine guide, to show you through the celestial kingdom. But like all other guides^ he will not burn with enthusiasm ; he has seen all this so often, that it is an old story to him. He is at home with the inhabitants, and can speak their language. He can show you the best the place affords. But you must come with your own enthusiasm. You must be eager to see the place. " Carlyle goes with you to take the kingdom of heaven by violence. He will bring down the walls with his trumpet blasts, as did the Hebrews of old. He cries, " Not peace, but a sword ! " He carries a fine blade, too, and woe to him who^eels its stroke. THOBEAU. Thoreau, my Bird of Paradise, caged among hens ! I cannot choose but love my wild-bird better than any cock of the civilized walk. What a man he was ! An unique soul, falling on tame and insipid times ! A wild, fierce, untamable flame-spirit, shot out of the very fire-deeps of Infinity ! Thoreau has been called a fanatic because he refused on a certain occasion to pay his town tax. He did not approve of the use which was made of the money, and preferred to go to jail rather than pay what he consid- ered an unjust tax. But Thoreau was not the only man who ever refused to pay his tax. There were some few men over a century ago who refused to pay the tax de- manded of them. To be sure, it was a tea tax, instead of a town tax, but the objection was the same, and the principle the same. These men too were threatened with civil penalty, but they did not heed that. The British soldiers came to seize them and put them in jail, but they 126 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. would not be seized. They seized muskets instead, and the soil of Thoreau's beloved Concord was baptized with the blood of some of these fanatics, who so stub- bornly resisted a taxation which they considered to be unjust. No, Thoreau is not the only fanatic in history, thank God. Every step in human progress has been made by some fanatic, who, if he had failed, might have been hung as a traitor or a murderer. When Socrates goes to jail, the jail becomes a shrine. When he drinks the cup of hemlock, it becomes a cup of life, filled to the brim with Olympian nectar. Thoreau's message seems to be that there is a celestial or divine Order to which man is native, and to whose Laws he should conform, without respect to earthly laws or cus- toms ; that his life is one with the universal Life whose manifestation Nature is, in all her myriad forms ; and that the more intimate his relation to wild and primal nature, the more fully he shall know his true being, his unity with the One Life. With Thoreau the study of nature is not an end, but a means. It is not the fact, but the significance of the fact, which holds him spellbound. Not the phenomenon, but the Law which it reveals, is the end of all his seeking ; and once perceiving the universal Law, through a partic- ular fact, he seeks to make that Law his own, through strict obedience. To him, every fact, every phenomenon, is as the falling apple to Newton, a revelation of Kosmic principles. Thus is Thoreau not a scientist, but a philos- opher ; using Nature chiefly as symbol and illustration in the teaching of ethical truth. It may be said that Nature is Thoreau's Bible, in which he finds all sacred Laws recorded ; and he, the Eevelator thereof, would make plain the ways of God to man. To him. Nature is the image of the soul. What Laws he finds within himself, through introspection, he forever sees written on the page of Nature. LITERATURE AND LIFE. 127 Thoreau is forever the friend of all aspiring souls. The dim image on the far horizon of -the ideal, which other eyes are not sharp enough to see, he perceives with confident \dsion, and pictures it to men. He sings the song of the soul in myriad changes. That celestial music sounds in him above all noises of the world ; and he will close his ears to all Siren strains, to all mere music of the senses, that his soul may be enchanted by this music from on high. He will leave friend, lover, sweetheart, if they do not walk with him on this high Path which he has chosen. Alone, though lonely in heart, will he walk, rather than be the companion of the frivolous and the vain. The empty clatter of fools' voices, which is like the crackling of thorns under the pot, he will not heed ; but those divine Voices which whisper and speak and sing to him out of every form in wild Nature, these he will listen to, on bended knee, and cherish the echo of them as dearest treasures of the soul. His society is not on earth, but in his celestial Dream-land ; the men and women whom he meets are not the images of that Divine and Beautiful Humanity which, glorified, he sees in his dream-excursions to the land of the ideal. He is a stranger on the earth. He has learned its language, and will pass a word now and then with its inhabitants ; he will study their ways, sometimes in a fine scorn of their frivolity and vanity; he will give to such as are worthy a word of counsel, a word of hope and cheer; but he has no breath to waste in such conversation as the inhabitants of Concord and Boston are given to. He will meet you on the high plain of ideal life, where dreams are veriest truth, and the visions of the soul are the only reality ; but he will not descend to meet you. He finds himself stifled and oppressed in the thick at- mosphere of the earth, and continually ascends toward the ideal, where the mountain air is bracing and life- giving. Though his body is so perfectly adapted to 128 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. earthly residence, with its cunning hands capable of wielding so many tools, with its senses so acute to detect things hidden from other men, still he impresses us as one not fitted to live upon this our common planet. He has so little use for the things which engage most men ; so little interest in that which absorbs and wholly occu- pies the other inhabitants, that one is moved to ask of him what is his business here, that he should move among us with so cheery a voice and manner. Surely it is no common business that keeps his hands and feet so active. He surveys lands for the farmers of Concord, but his feet are not treading the ground merely, but are walking on an earth invisible to his employers. He treads the clods and the clouds at the same time ; and while the farmer thinks that the surveyor is looking for his boundaries, the transit has run a line clean through this farm to the distant horizon, and found a stake there which no title-deed had ever mentioned. The North Star is a corner-stake for him ; and through the Milky Way and the constellation of the Great Bear this intrepid surveyor has carried his chain, marking out lines of higher life for man. That swamp which he so boldly wades, through which he runs his lines to solid ground beyond, is but a type or symbol to him of the uses and laws of men, through which the bold reformer must wade, to find a good foundation for better laws. He will not hesitate upon the bank, but will plunge boldly in, confident that he shall find solid bottom somewhere, though he have not got half way down to it yet. He knows that under all the institutions of men, deep be- neath constitutions and laws, churches and creeds, there is a Foundation not made with hands, but laid by Uni- versal Wisdom, before the world was ; and down to That will he dig, never heeding the dust which blinds other men's eyes, not caring for the cries of fear or rage that sound around him. He knows that other foundation can LITERATURE AND LIFE. • 129 no man lay than That which is laid ; and down to That he must go, through whatever sacred soils or traditional strata of laws and usage. He is the friend of all deep diggers, too, and joins hands with all who seek to build upon the One Foundation. John Brown is his friend, who so boldly blasts away all constitutional barriers and shatters all rocks of human laws that he may get down to the bed-rock of Justice for black men and white. While yet that brave hero lies in Charlestown jail, insulted by southern slaveholders, and no man in all the north dares speak out boldly in his defense, this Man of Con- cord calls his neighbors and fellow-citizens together and speaks to them on the life and character of John Brown, uttering heroic praise of his noble but abortive effort to make head against the monster Slavery. PURE LITEEATUEE. It is not surprising that we have so little pure litera- ture in the world. We write with materials and on materials saturated with degradation. The ink is com- posed not alone of fluids and pigments. It is made up of human thought. The influences that surround each workman in the factory where it is brewed and bottled creep, by a subtler chemistry than that expounded in the books, into the fluid, and are corked up, like the fabled demons of old, to escape with the unstopping of the bottle. The pen I write with is tempered not only in the furnace fires, but in the hotter fires of thought and feel- ing. When I hold it in my hand, it has a power of its own to record its life-history ; and in spite of ni}^ opti- mism it will set down some hint of the conditions out of which it came. The spirit of trade, of greed and deceit, controls it partly, and however high and holy the Spirit that commands me, the writer, this pen which I hold will have a word now and then, dictated by this other and evil spirit. It seems to me that we might write some pure 130 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. thoughts, if we could but get us pure materials. Per- chance a quill from some wild bird, whose wings have never fanned the polluted air of town or city; the juice of pokeberries, red with the life-blood of pure nature; and for paper, the bark of some tree — probably the original parchment — would enable one to write a poem of purity and truth such as the world has seldom seen or heard. INSPIRATION. All literature is inspired which lifts the mind into the realm of spiritual truth. It has the Spirit of God in itself when it makes me conscious of the Spirit of God in me. That scripture through which I see God is certainly inspired. If it lifts me out of Time, it belongs to Eter- nity. That doctrine is true through which I see Truth. When my soul is lifted up to commune with its Divine Self its utterances are inspired and true. When I speak out of this attitude of the soul I represent God; I am God Speaking. This is the Spirit of Prophecy, and there is no other. This is Revelation; all else is vain strife of words. THE BOOK OF LIEE. This day I renounce all idolatry of books and papers. I have wasted precious hours in this reveling, and have been fed only as with husks. I perceive that these vast promises of wisdom are never fulfilled. So many " prom- ising" writers, but so few that fulfill any promise! I have searched among the whirling leaves of our modern literature these many years, to find at last that the sought-for fruit lies not there, but hangs high aloft on the branches of the Tree of Life. No more will I befool my soul with these false expectations. I have gotten little profit, but much headache and debility from all this reading of books. To be sure, I have found some feAV real Books among the rubbish, which are good and profitable LITERATURE AND LIFE. 131 for any man to read. But few men find these, they are so buried and concealed. I determine henceforth to be a New Man in a New World. Behind me I cast books, and go forth to study Life and the World. If I make a book of these my studies, it shall be a new sort of book, against most other books, calling on men to study that only true Book, Life. I perceive that I have been looking in the wrong direc- tion. I have neglected the Temple of God, to go about after wizards that peep and mutter. Now will I return to the Temple, and at the sacred shrine petition for Wis- dom. One Word from that source is worth all these spurious words which have filled my ears with their din and clamor. BOOKS AND CHAEACTEK. The world is full of books and echoes, but character is not so common. Is there not a method of converting this fine thinking into somewhat more permanent than essays and poems, art and eloquence? The world is full of writers, scribblers, who imagine that writing constitutes literature, and that literature is the chief end of man; that his highest bliss is to know it and enjoy it forever. Young men and women aim at a " literary " career, as if that were a tine employment alone worthy of their clever faculties. The end and use of writing they seem not to have apprehended in the least degree. Writing is a means, not an end. Make it an end in itself, and it at once becomes vicious. It is a medium for thought, love, beauty. We should aim to cultivate these qualities, and not be so anxious to write until we have something worthy to be uttered. that silence might fall upon the world for but one day, one hour even ! that we might hear the voice of God speaking to us. We are so noisy, so saucy, so clamorous ! All shouting at once, striving to be heard! A very Babel 132 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. of voices, full of sound and fury, but signifying nothing ! The clamor of the crowd of would-be prophets makes but little impress upon eternal Silence. The face of the stern old Sphinx does not change, amid all these clamor- ous anwers to her Riddle. No man pronounces the proper Word. She looks on calmly, listens gravely to Plato, Buddha, Christ, and the rest; but utters still her Eiddle, unanswered and unanswerable. In the midst of this clamoring crowd the earnest man would fain withdraw apart, and pray in silence. Wise is he who knows the folly of all wisdom. The features of the Sphinx relax a little at the words of him who con- fesses the impossibility of an answer to her question. And yet, I babble with the rest, scribble with the rest; and my only virtue is the perception of our common folly. I know the folly of it all, but fain would utter this knowledge. If I write to show the folly of writing, I contradict myself. If I speak to prove that nothing can be proven by speaking, I prove my own insanity, and defeat my end in reaching it. There is some use in writing and speaking, but what it is I do not know; and I am convinced that the more cautiously we speak, the better. Every word should be ensphered in silence. Every utterance should have a background of mystery. We know nothing save that we can know nothing. I will not examine too curiously this impulse for writing and speaking, but I will obey it cautiously. What I am organized to do, that will I perform; but with all pos- sible discretion. Like other strong passions, this passion of speech must be cautiously indulged. Let it become master, it will debauch and ruin us. It exists for good and universal ends, but must not be indulged for its own sake merely. Severed from those universal ends, it becomes a vice, a crime, deadly and damnable. Vigor of mind is the fruit of chastity in speech. The strongest children are born of the greatest continence. Idiocy, insanity, are the fruits of dissipation. LITERATURE AND LIFE. 133 AYEITING AND LIVING. The woods forever inspire me with tlie purest thoughts. When I walk there it seems to me that every tree is say- ing, " Write what thou seest ; write what thou seest ! " And yet, how poorly can anything felt be written! I read what I have set down, and ask myself, "Is that what the wood-nymph said to me ? Did my gentle sprite utter such nonsense as that ? " So impossible is it to set down anything adequately that I have a hundred times declared I would write no more. But woe unto me if I write not the Gospel which Life is teaching me. When my wits are dullest I seem to have the strongest impulse to write. Then I would fain woo thought, and coax some utterance from my good Genius to fill the vacuum in my brain with wisdom. But I feel ever as I write that there is some good end served, though I cannot find it. I know that somehow this Writing is the vestibule of Living; and that by spelling my a-b abs patiently I shall soon have them organized into character. I certainly have no ambition to excel merely in "writing." There is somewhat higher in life than intellectual performance. All my thinking, all my reading and writing, is to the end that I may the more truly Live. I would fain write my Gospel in one sentence, that all men might always have it in mind. But it will not be so condensed. I must write many profitless lines, spend words liberally, utter much foolish and vain speech, before it will get itself recorded. I bring forth in travail, and nurse my brain-children tenderly, hoping that one shall at last grow to a divine and perfect stature. But I wait still for the Divine Sentence, whose meaning shall saturate society with its light. I struggle, and lift up my voice in prophecy, and beat the air with my hands, .hoping against hope that so I shall pronounce the Excel- 134 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. lent, Divine Sentence. And with the same hope do people listen to my ravings ; waiting for my madness and panting to shape itself into somewhat orderly and true. If there were not hopeful listeners, what should our hopeful speakers do ? If men were not forever listening for the secret of life, how should any babbler like myself be heard at all ? We know not how or when it may be uttered; in what shriek of frenzy or mad prophesying it may escape. And so we listen, and read books, and ques- tion our neighbors, and wait patiently, hoping yet to hear the Word. Men think the priest knows more than they, and so they go to him with their problems. He does know more, — he knows that he cannot answer them; but he wisely does not tell them so. Let them continue asking, and perchance sometime, somewhere, they shall be well answered. I think it is a growing sense of the limitations of all knowledge that has dampened my early ardor for writing. I find myself less eager than formerly to put my thoughts into words. Once I religiously opened my Journal every day, and wrote my thoughts therein ; and did well so to do, for so my pen learned to obey my brain. But as for anything of value being written, I might as well have traced my words in the sand, where the next shower should efface them. I have learned to be chary of committing myself to statements. I see so much that I know it can never be adequately said ; and I refrain from marring the beauti- ful vision by understatement. I love to let my thoughts float about me, looming up vastly in their undefined pro- portions. I love to feel them as an influence. If I write them down, I thus dismiss them. I prefer that they should brood over me, and impart their virtue to me, and become organized into my character. Then indeed they will be published, and in a completer and more effective fashion than in books. LITERATURE AND LIFE. 135 lear:n^ing and ethics. Of what value is philosophy if it does not lead us to better modes of life? Our ambition is to know much, rather than to he much. We should cease from this ab- normal itching after knowledge, and set ourselves dili- gently to the work of applying what we know to our daily life. To live the life is the only way to really know the doctrine. I do not possess truth when I simply per- ceive it ; but only when it has become organic habit in me. I say that I know it is better to resist not evil ; but do I Icnow it until I do not resist ? The perception and understanding of truth is one thing ; the brave applica- tion of it to life is quite another. The one is intellect, the other is Character. In these days of intellectual activity we need to insist strenuously upon ethical life. We are learning so fast, and are immersed in such a vast sea of literature, and withal are so well pleased with our- selves in that we are so wise, that we need to have a halt called, to consider what kind of progress this is that we are making. Is a learned savage any better neighbor than an un- learned one ? I think the ignorant savage is less dan- gerous, at least. Your savages in New York and Chicago throw dynamite. The savage of the woods could not do that. A little learning is a dangerous thing, when severed from moral feeling. We educate our children that they may become good citizens, we say. The state spends millions of dollars annually in this free education, firmly believing that thereby she will ensure the rearing of good citizens. But education of the intellect apart from the moral sense is not sufficient. Some of these children use the spear of Minerva to pierce her side. Having learned chemistry at the expense of the state, they proceed forth- with to manufacture dynamite, with which to blow their alma mater into primordial atoms. 136 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. EDUCATIOK Life is the only education. What are these mathe- matics and sciences, these grammars and dead languages, but agencies through which the Soul expresses her inner life ? We talk learnedly of science and philosophy, we measure the orbits of the stars, and weigh the sun and moon, and think that this is knowledge. The soul that has lived and suffered knows better than to believe this lie. It is not knowledge, but only the vain and empty shadow of it. Knowledge is experience ; — the garnered sheaves of love and hate, of joy and pain, the crop of the soul, warmed and lighted by the sunshine of joy, and watered by the rains of sorrow. Tares and wheat, weeds and flowers, all the plants that grow and blos- som, kissed by the light of the sun and moon and stars, breathed on by winds of morning and of night, all are the life-harvest of the soul. Knowledge — vain word used by owl-eyed scholastics, inscribed on the door posts of academies and colleges, to denote what is learned therein ! The young soul hastens thither, where knowl- edge is said to be attainable, and, after a few years, goes away with its precious burden of shadows. Only after some years of living, in the press of men, in the mad currents of the world, buffeted by wild waves of sorrow, engulfed and swallowed by maelstroms of grief, mocked at by specters, haunted by fiends and devils, alternately renouncing God and imploring his mercy; hating life and fearing death; tasting bitter fruit that all but poisons the s|)rings of hope; reaching out vainly for elusive things that fade as they are grasped ; so living, so suffering, so hoping and fearing, so praying and mocking, does the soul gain knowledge. All else is but a vain muttering and mumbling of words. But at what a cost, at what a cost, do we gain this wisdom ! Verily, the old Greek proverb was right : '^For a price,'' — yes, LITERATURE AND LIFE. 137 for a price, and never for nothing. And is it worth the price ? Who knows ? Only He who knows the issues of life and death ; who holds the secrets and mysteries of being. 'Tis the aim and end of life, and to doubt its value is to accuse Life itself. Alas ! Poor souls that we are, learning the way of life by treading with bare and bleeding feet over flints and thorns. Must truth ever be born of pain and sor- row? Must the heavenward-struggling soul ever bear the cross upon his naked back and the thorns upon his brow ? Even so, if this be the price, let us have it. " Not my will, but thine, be done." What poor, naked, bleeding wretches, starved and worn, are these saviours of the world! How they write their gospel on the stones of the road, with the blood of their feet! My head aches with thinking, and my heart with feeling, — and yet there stands the Sphinx, unmoved and grim as ever. We do not ask what is rational, but what is proper to the opinions of our neighbors. Our education teaches us opinions, not the right use of opinions. It shows us what has been, or is, not what ought to be; what men have done, or do, not what they should do. No educa- tion is bad, but education of the popular sort is often worse. The man of no education explores for himself, and settles things upon the best principles he can see ; but the man who is " educated," after the proper fashion * of the day, has settled all things, easily and quickly, by reference to past standards. He dismisses all problems at once, putting upon each its proper tag. Only the strong character is much profited by so-called education. A man should be like the oak tree, which stands in the field and sends out its roots for needed elements of nutrition. It does not take up so much potash, lime, soda, and keep them potash, lime, and soda ; but converts them into oak. All elements pay tribute to 138 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. that organism. Some men through study become simply large reflectors. When education overpowers the native genius of a man, however small that may have been, it is not good, but evil. The Universe itself is the soil in which this tree of Thought is planted. The Kosmic phenomena offer themselves gladly for its nourishment. The elements hasten to sacrifice themselves to upbuild its tissue. It is the tree Igdrasil, its roots penetrating to the primal chaos. THE OFFICE OF POETRY. The spirit of true poetry is music; an indefinable, penetrating harmony, residing not in the words, not in the meter, not in the rhythm, not in the arrangement, but, as it were, flowing through all these, like a brook through a meadow. Verse that has not this music in it is not true poetry, however it may have usurped the forms of poetry. Tricks cannot compass it. Calculation cannot achieve it. Analysis cannot find it. Only the soul can feel it, and create it. Tried by this test, much that is called poetry is found mere jingle; and some so-called prose is found to be truest poetry. Poetry is Beauty in speech : and no form can contain it. Meter, verse, rhythm, are but convenient arrangements for the expression of this Beauty. It can never be attained through these alone. The poet should be not merely the describer of nature's beauties. Poetry should interpret. It must reveal not only Beauty, but Truth and Good. The true poem shows me how the poet feels when the soul in him confronts the vast phenomenon of nature. Some poets interpret, some speak in a tongue. The utterance of some no man can interpret. It is not for edification, but for a sign. The reader is amazed, is convicted of a spiritual power, but is not able to understand the phenomenon. Com- mentators and critics labor in vain. They are not able LITERATURE AND LIFE. 139 to come at the meaning. Some say it is thunder of mere words, others say that an angel speaks. Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind. I think that most persons are able to detect the tone of the prophet in a man's words. The true poet speaks as one having au- thority, and not as the scribes. The poet is one who sees visions, and whose soul burns with the burden of them, until they are spoken forth. Thus the poet is a prophet, and his message is divine. He is the nation's High-priest, communing with the Invisible in the people's behalf. His place is known by the pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night. The Divine Presence shines, round about him, and his face and form are illumined with a spiritual splendor. His words are true Eevelation, and have the weight of Divine utterance. PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. ^J^c A PAEADISE OF THE PACIFIC. July 1, i5P5.— Eureka! I have found It! It, thus emphasized, is my Ideal Camping Ground; my Happy Hunting Ground ; the Abode of Manitou. Truly, It is Paradise, or the vestibule thereof, which is good enough for me ! Catalina island, twenty miles long, with moun- tains and canons, full of wild goats and small game ; a stretch of calm water, sheltered for fifteen miles from the southwest swells of the Pacific ; a sea full of gold- fish, flying-fish, starfish, and strange, beautiful things ; and such a climate ! For five long, beautiful summer months not a storm, not a drop of rain, not a hot or cold day ; but just such weather as the angels have in heaven ! My tent is jDitched on a high point overlooking the bay, with its scores of dancing boats, its wharf where the steamers land from Eedondo and San Pedro, its great bath-house ; and the valley with its hotels, cottages, and scores of white tents. My boat floats at her mooring just below, and I, in my '' Sea-gull's Nest," shall dream fine dreams, and think high and beautiful thoughts, I trust, such as befit the place. I went to-day up the trail to the summit of the first range of mountains. The view was most magnificent. Away to the east lay the calm Pacific, mingled with the blue sky, so that a white sail, far away, seemed to be floating in the air; to the west, undulating hills and valleys, carpeted with rich grass, cured by the dry air. 140 PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 141 The island in summer is a vast garden of dried herbs and grasses, the scent of which, borne on the pure breeze^ is very delightful. Cactus grows luxuriantly on every hillside. Green shrubs are abundant, with many flower- ing plants. Ground squirrels and birds of many species animate the scene, while the air is full of song. The mocking-bird pours out her rich notes, filling every canon with music and setting the echoes going among the hills. From afar comes faintly the plaintive note of the mourning dove, as if bewailing the extinction of the primi- tive races that inhabited this island, and left their pottery and bones to awaken the curiosity or reverence of the white man. Over all pours a flood of sunshine, which lights the raiment of the hills with a golden splendor. The soft air is elixir, and seems to fill one's whole being with new life. THE DIVINE SELF. Standing on the lofty ridge of the mountains, more in heaven than on earth, it seemed to me that the Divine Presence was very near, and that I needed only to lift my eyes to see His glory. There alone on the summit I held communion with my Divine Self, and perceived that to live the Truth, to walk in the Perfect Way, to repre- sent Divine Perfection, is the highest aim of man. I re- called to myself some convictions which I have found growing faint of late, but which, in the pure air and sun- shine of the mountains, were renewed in all their splendor. I know not whether any sign appeared, but it was a Mount of Transfiguration to me. I cast behind me a certain self who has been for some time parading in my costume and character, and i3ut on the Eeal Self, the Divine Self, in which dwells all perfection. 142 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. THE SOCIETY OF SOLITUDE. July 2. — My hand is unsteady this morning, from sturdy wielding of the hammer yesterday afternoon, laying the foundation for my camp; but my mind is very steady, as befits a lover of the Stoic and the Hindu wisdom. Already this morning I have received a social call from a humming-bird, and other neighbors are illum- ing themselves for a visit. In spite of my rough attire I think I shall be received here in the very best society. Goddess Aurora, peeping over the blue mountain tops this morning, seemed really pleased to see me, and I am sure I was very glad to see her ; for I have not looked upon her ruddy face and rosy fingers since long ago last summer. The inhabitants of town and city are never favored with a glimpse of this fair goddess. She veils herself from them, and shows herself only to her lovers in mountain and wildwood. Last night I slept with only the sky for a roof, fretted with golden stars, which looked down on me kindly, as if to renew an acquaintance some time neglected. The Big Dipper has not changed in appearance in the years I have looked up to it, from many lakes and mountains ; and the North Star still shines steady in his ancient place. I have wandered, but he has remained, to remind me that in the midst of fleeting appearances there are things that do not change. MAN THE LIGHT-BEAKER. July 3. — This morning the sun rose clear and bright, his face undimmed by fog. So should man rise each morning, with unclouded face, to look upon the beautiful world. The Hindu Brahman a, bright with the Brahmic splendor, is the type of what every man should be. Bright with the splendor of his divine nature, the spirit of man is indeed the candle of the Lord. But in many, yes, I PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 143 fear most of us, this candle of the Lord is under a bushel, and not on a candlestick where it may give light to all that are in the house. Each man should be a sun of righteousness with healing in his wings, rising over the horizon of life each day to shed his light and life abroad. Lucifer, light-bearer, should be the generic name of man. The Greek Prometheus, who caught a flame of the celes- tial fire and brought it to the earth, is a significant char- acter in mythology. In the deep meaning of that myth I see a hint of the higher possibilities of man. Let me, let thee, brother, be another Prometheus, to bless our fellows with a gift of the divine fire ; yea, even though suffering should be our penalty, as was his. To commune with Reality, to look with the open eye of the soul upon Truth, to know that in our inmost nature we are divine, that time and space and things physical are but fleet- ing incidents, and that Spirit is the only eternal ; what knowledge is like unto this ? THE PRINCE OF NATURE. The princes of nature's realm find their heritage await- ing them in every place. They need not to take the sword to gain their own. Born in hovel or manger, they open their eyes on a world already theirs. It invites them to possess it. Their ownership is absolute, needing no title- deeds to prove it. I would be a prince in this vast realm ; my highest ambition to adequately live therein. But how great is the character one must have to play this part ! Elowers and birds, trees and clouds and running streams, admon- ish one of the beauty and purity required in him who would companion with them. Sea-birds in their graceful flight ; shells, more beautiful within than without ; gems and flowers of the deep : these are the alphabet of that language which my prince must learn. The speech of nature shall be his, to commune with the soul of the 144 LIFE AKD LIGHT FROM ABOVE. stars, the flowers, the sea-plants; and the language of birds he must know, for they will be his sweetest com- panions. The winds that sweep over the salt water, or down from the rugged hills, bringing with them the scent of grasses and flowers, or a whiff of old Neptune's breath, these, calling early and late, staying never a moment, but just opening the flap of his tent, or lifting the drapery of his couch to look in upon him, — these, I say, will be his frequent visitors, and he must be wary and watchful, lest some whispered secret of theirs escape him. The mocking-bird — how many voices of nature do but mock us with a melody we would give the world to hear in their full and complete harmony ! the mocking- bird, I say, will pour out her musical refrain, ever chang- ing, and yet ever full of the same rich melody; and my prince must keep his ears delicately attuned, lest he should lose one of those marvelous notes. The harsh noises of the world, which lately bruised his ears, have all died away, not the faintest echo of them remaining to mar the sweet harmony of nature's voices ; but there are harsh tones in his own voice, guttural notes, the remains of the tiger's growl, which must be all charmed away, so that his tongue shall never lacerate his ear with discord. A sweet little fairy must touch his lips with her perfumed wand, so that they shall forever forget how to coin any but the sweetest and purest tones. Bird-notes, the hum of the bee, the music of waves lapping the pebbly beach, these notes of nature's symphony may enter in and pos- sess my prince's voice ; but all harsher notes must melt away, like dying echoes among the mountain crags. So daily will my prince prepare himself for the realm that awaits him. Ever alert, ever zealous, ever learning lessons of beauty and purity from every teacher in na- ture's school, he will become daily more beautiful, more pure, more wise, more tender and loving and compassion- ate ; and the light within his soul will grow brighter and PAGES FKOM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 145 brighter, and shine out to admonish men of a diviner life than that commonly known, which might be lived by all who would aspire to it. So might earth become heaven, and men and women become as gods. Enchanting is the dream of this divine life ; inexpres- sibly sweet the thought of it. It is as the scent of flowers in the desert ; as the sight of water in a thirsty land ; or the shadow of trees in a midsummer day. It is born of the divine soul within, whose nature is all-per- fect. It is a light shining in a dark place, and the feet of men are drawn to it with a power that must at last prevail. THE WOELD OE SOUND. The sea is a continual study, of which I never tire. Along the rocky shore, where the water is clear as crys- tal, the rank sea-weed waves its dark green arms, or trails its long waving stems like serpents ; and in and out of its tangled folds glide scores of goldfish, like animated flames. Schools of small fish swarm through the water, and here and there one may see a dark bass gliding among the rocks. Sea-gulls and ravens soar overhead, and on the hillsides scores of ground squirrels dart about. In the canons the rich melody of the mocking-bird wakes the echoes, and all nature seems to listen. I should think that other birds would cease to sing forever, after hearing their characteristic note sounded in the full, rich voice of this charmer. But birds and men must sing, even though they hear their own song chanted in a better voice. I have heard my feeble thoughts chanted in a celestial tone by the sacred bards of Time, and yet I sing on, straining my voice the more to utter a sweeter mel- ody. There must be mocking-birds and nightingales, and there must be the humbler songsters ; and I suppose even the raven's hoarse, discordant cry is music to the loving ear of Nature. 'Tis for us to tune our ears, and 146 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. we shall hear music everywhere. How little do we hear of the great world of Sound ! I stood day before yester- day on a hillside, with my eyes closed, listening to the symphony of bird-notes that filled the air. Many sounds are like the stars, and are heard only when the sun of the eye has yielded his all-potent sway to darkness. When I closed my eyes it seemed to me that I stood in a newly discovered world. A sea of bird-song beat upon the shore of my consciousness, and the ripple of its waves seemed the sweetest music I had ever heard. I realized that I stood upon the shore of a sea whose broad expanse no man had ever sailed. Islands and continents of joy lie there all undiscovered, awaiting their Columbus. I be- lieve that the universe is full of joys all undiscovered by the dull mind of man. We burrow like moles under- ground, while over us the sun shines, flowers bloom, and birds sing. No man has dreamed of the beneficence of this universe. We live in it like strangers, knowing little of its possibilities for joy. Beauty clothes all things in its divine mantle, harmony pulses through all the motions of the atoms, and love broods at the heart of life. Man is divine, and the universe is his beautiful home forever. The highest is for him ; the best he ever dreamed awaits him. MAN AND NATUEE. July 5. — Last night the bay was a fairy scene. Boats glided about, illuminated with colored lights. Colored fires burned alopg the beach and on the hilltops. Sky- rockets shot heavenward, bursting and dropping their balls of colored light like tears of joy. Eoman candles poured volley after volley of fiery balls into the ranks of darkness. The steamer from San Pedro, with its load of passengers, glided like an enchanted palace over the gleaming waters of the bay, and found her moorings at the wharf. Music floated over the water, and the sound PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 147 of happy voices ; and all was joy. Above it all, far up on the hillside, I looked down from my tent, and found a poetic pleasure in the scene. It seemed to harmonize with fireflies and phosphorescent lights of the sea and the twinkling stars overhead. If I had descended, the poetry would have left the scene, and it would have been mere barbaric noise and fire. As I sat there, looking alternately at the gala scene below and the quiet stars above, which seemed not to change countenance at all this fine display, I perceived that the works of man occupy but a very small space in nature, and that they do not change much with the flight of ages. I found that it required but a slight effort of the imagination to convert that scene into a savage jubi- lee, with beating tom-toms, bonfires, and exultant war- cries. These canoes were propelled by steam, and the fires were red and green, and the musical instruments were of a different material from that used by the primi- tive inhabitants of the island ; but hoAV wide is the gap between the actual lives of the two races ? Is it the im- passable gulf our egotism has pictured ? Let us not say it. Man everywhere is noble, if he is unfallen. The absence of steam-engines and telegraphs does not neces- sarily indicate the absence of those qualities of character which make life most worth living. We must look to these things lest they betray us. We must not abate one jot of ethical endeavor because of these fine engines we have made. They will not take us the sooner to heaven. We shall get no quicker news from God through our tele- graph and telephone. The phonograph does not improve our appreciation of the music it records. Divine life, growth in character, comes not from these things, but from communion with the Spirit of Life. 'Tis that which measures our distance from the savage, not our telegraphs and steamships. By so far as we have approached God, the Perfect Life, have we distanced our savage progeni- 148 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. tor. We cannot leave liim behind by riding on the rail- road train. It needs somewhat else than the telephone to bring two people into shorter speaking distance. I have spoken to people in a loud tone of voice who were in the very same room with me, and they heard me not. They were miles and miles beyond the reach of my voice. Could a telegraph or telephone have brought them closer ? Surely they were close enough so far as space was concerned. But I have observed that space is not the only thing that separates people. If this is true, it needs something more than the telephone to bring them together. Such thoughts as these floated in my mind as I sat in my tent and looked down upon the festivities of the people. But I was wise enough not to go down and utter these opinions in the crowd. I have learned the folly of that by experience. I shall still sit above, " alone with the stars," and keep my lips closed, unless to pray. My own know me and will come to me. They are on the upward Path that leads to the hill-summit. They, too, look down sometimes on the festivities of the world, but do not mingle therewith. Their eyes are set starward, and the pure gleam of the quiet stars, changing not through the ages of human history, charms them more than the dazzling spectacle of human art. Nature ! Thou vast Mother of us all ! With what infinite good humor and patience thou dost deal with thy foolish children; watching them at their pranks, smiling at their saucy inventions, and still keeping thy bosom of love bared for them when they shall weary of it all and turn to thee for comfort ! Let me rest upon thy bosom, O Mother, and find the peace and joy which the world has not given me ! Thou art ever the same. Thou changest not, through all the centuries. Hearts turn to dust, but thy heart still beats with love. Hopes of men fade away, like the morning mist, most beautiful when PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 149 tinted by the sun that dispels it ; but in thee there is continual joy and renewing of life. Thou art never ex- hausted ; thy bounty of beauty and good is infinite, wait- ing the opening heart of man to receive it. WAVE-SYMPHONIES. July 24. — I spent the latter part of this afternoon in my boat, coasting along the island. A smart breeze was blowing from the southeast, and most of the time I sat in the stern of the boat simply guiding her as she drifted before the wind. I passed many jutting points of rock, where the sea-birds circled on tireless wings, and in the blue waters the goldfish glided among the dark green seaweed. The brilliant green of the shrubs on the hill- side contrasted finely with the golden glow of the grass, dried in the summer sun. The scenery along the shore is charming. In some places high bluffs descend abruptly to the water's edge, their base resting in a bed of gleam- ing pebbles, washed by the ceaseless waves. At other points a canon comes down to the beach, its sides clothed in green and gold. At the mouth of the caiion a pebbly beach invites the drifting wanderer to land and explore the bed of what is in the rainy season a rushing creek. A broad expanse of golden grass, dotted with green shrubs, tempts you to pitch your tent and spend a day or two, fish- ing, sketching, or idly dreaming and watching the chang- ing colors in the water, or the shifting scenery of the clouds. A distant yacht seems to hang between sea and sky, its white sail hardly bulging with the gentle breeze. Sea-gulls soar around the rocks, a raven with hoarse croak sails by over your head, and flying-fish break from the waves and skim for a few seconds over the water. It is dream-land, fairyland, and it does not seem possible that there is such a thing as care or grief in the whole world. It seems as if the music of the world must be pitched to the key of the surf -beat and the winds which breathe soft 150 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. melody around the rugged crags. In such a scene, you per- ceive the true state of man in the world, how divine and beautiful it ought to be. What but a god should inhabit this fair scene ? What figure but that of a god is fit to stand in the foreground of such a picture ? What place for grief or pain is there in my blessed island ? What xjlace for sin or wrong ? How harshly does the grief or pain of man clash with the blessed harmonies of beauty here ? FISHING FOE, BEAUTY. On some of the small beaches fishermen have estab- lished a camp, and the odor of dried fish pervades the air, mingling not unpleasantly with the salty odors of the sea. Racks of lath on which the fish are spread to dry lie here and there, and tin cans, empty bottles, bits of netting, heads and tails of fish, blackened stones surrounded by ashes and bits of bone, give evidence that Man has invaded the peaceful scene in the interests of trade. And yet, although the fisherman may invade this peace- ful shore, and cast his net into the blue waters to drag out the beautiful creatures of the deep, the scene does not belong to him, but to the poet or artist-soul, whose heart stirs within him at the sight of all this quiet beauty. The waves sing to him not of fish and fish-markets, but of the primal beauty of creation, which is as fresh and sweet on these secluded shores as in the day of Adam, and does not need to be dried or salted or smoked to preserve its quality for other generations. The product of these beautiful beaches and coves to me is a somewhat that does not grow less with gathering or marketing, — if indeed it ever can be marketed. I cast my net, and find it filled with a most miraculous draught ; for I know where to cast it. The fisherman does not know. He may break his nets with the multitude of fish, but he never brings to shore what I am fishing for. His nets will not take it. PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 151 Numbers of slieep wander through the canons and over the hills, so long uncared for by their reputed keepers that they are virtually wild sheep, belonging to the Owner of the hills Himself. Wild goats also abound, possibly descended from some scapegoat sent into the wilderness by the primitive inhabitants. Hunters deem it rare fun to chase these wild goats over the hills, and bring them down at long range with rifles. But I should prefer to see them roaming in fearless freedom over the hills which belong to no earthly owner so truly as to these wild creatures that find their home and spend their brief life in these wild solitudes. THE MUSIC OF THE SOUL. To me, the sea seems always young and recent. I cannot see a single wrinkle in her brow. As old as eternity, she is still as young as the morning. Over her face flit the shadows of the clouds, like smiles upon the face of an infant. She sings the song the morning stars sang together in the beginning of creation. Her waves are ever chanting the chant of joy, and do not know a single minor note. The ancient sea, the new-created sea; the sea which swam around the earth when first the light of heaven broke the veil of night, and threw its glory over the works of God, the sea which murmurs at the feet of man to-day, whispering of a new-born earth, to every earnest and reverent soul ; this sea so full of beauty that no man need fish therein for that and come back empty- handed; so clothed in light, so filled with wonders, so redolent, so sweet, so peaceful and serene, suggesting the infinitude of Life and its boundless scope in Time; who shall chide me for loving this wondrous sea, and chanting its praises in many-modulated strains ? If only the music of its waves could be repeated or echoed in my lines, what songs and poems there should be ! No Homer ever caught the mystic music of the many-sounding sea to 152 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. weave its witching harmony through his graceful lines. No silver-tongued, no god-like orator ever caught the chant of the breaking waves to repeat its matchless music in his polished rhetoric. ]SJ"o, the music of the sea can be rendered only by the waves themselves, sweeping the many -stringed lyre of the sands. Its deep bass notes must be sounded from the throats of rocky caverns, where the sea-gull loves to circle, spreading her white wings to catch the flying spray. Her higher notes must echo from the silver strings of pebbly beaches, where the curling breakers leap and sport like white-haired children of the deep. It is the echo of the spheral music, the harmony of the stars, this many-voiced music of the sea. The voices of white-robed angels only are worthy to mingle with its celestial strains. And yet, this song celestial, this music of the starry spheres, rendered by the waves an^i. pebbles, is for the ear of Man. His soul contains the harp whose strings can vibrate with these heavenly strains. His soul is many-voiced, and all the notes of stars and waves resound within its hidden depths. The music of the sea is his, the spheral harmony is his, and yet diviner strains are his to hear forever, when he shall learn his true estate. The universe itself is but the harp of million strings on which the soul of man may breathe to wake divinest music at his will. Within his soul was all this music born, this sea-beat, star-song, wind-melody, which rises from the rolling world upon her starry course. Man is the sea, the sky ; and through his soul the dark waves play, the star-lights gleam, and all the melodies of the universe do sound and echo. Know thyself, Man, for what thou art, and all thy life shall be a strain of music, swelling grandly to the sky, filling the mighty world with surging joy, and rippling on the sea of space to kiss the shores of farthest stars. PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 153 THE SPIRIT'S WOELD. July 25. — Evening descends, with mantle star-be- decked. The moonlight draws a veil of misty shadows over the rugged crags, and on the rolling waves doth cast her spell so strong that all the gentle nymphs and mer- maids of the deep do follow her with joyful shouts, the jewels glistening in their waving hair. Strange creatures of the ocean caves do waken at the music of the sea- nymphs' voices, and stir among their weedy labyrinths. The stars of heaven have their sister-lights among the rocks and sea-plants of the bay. They flash below the darkly 'rolling waves, and all the gems of ocean's hidden caves do seem to rise in lively sport among the weed- clothed rocks. A spray of molten silver dashes on the rugged shores, and shatters into fiery mist among the crags. A fairy world awakes to life, and there my spirit wanders with the gentle moonbeams, companioning with creatures of the air and sea. It is my world, that fairy realm, the spirit's native air; and all the day I languish, languish, yearning for that world with all its scenes of light and joy. I wander on the shores of Time, a listener to the sounds of human life, the laughter and the cries of pain ; I look upon its fairest scenes with misty eyes, for they are not the scenes I love to look upon, the scenes of this my fairy world, my world of light and joy. And so I love the coming of the fair night-queen, who in her robes of light walks forth in heaven to charm the souls of men below. She comes to light the poet's world, the dreamer's world, the spirit's native realm; and when she comes, the soul awakes which erstwhile slept. I love this night of beauty and of joy, this spirit-day, when all the sights and sounds of grosser earth have died away, and wakes to life another world, of spirit-texture, habited by creatures of the soul. 154 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE, A MORNING PICTURE. July 26. — This morning I rose at 4.15, and started for an outing. The eastern sky was delicately tinted with the first blushes of morning, and the Avater of the bay was as calm as the heavens overhead. I secured some small fish for bait, and rowed to Rocky Point, where I cast my anchor. But I could not be interested in fishing. In the presence of the Beauty of morning, with sea and sky and the distant hills appealing to my soul, it seemed very idiotic to sit in a boat, dangling a long string with a hook at the end of it. It seemed to me that a man's time must be very cheap who could afford to spend it in such a Avay. But I baited my hook, and let it down into the sea. hoping that I should get a bite from something Avorthy my attention. I suppose I did not attend to my line as Avell as I should have done in order to catch fish. A long fishing-boat approached, betAveen me and the horizon, and the boat, Avith its figures of men, standing out against a brilliant golden sky, where the sun Avas struggling Avith the mist, made a startlingly beautiful picture. I think I had a bite, Avhile I Avas gazing at that picture, Avith an artist's longing to put it upon cauA^as, for Avhen I pulled up my line, my bait Avas gone. I soon found that nature was fishing for me much more success- fully than I Avas for the fish, using the bait of Beauty with a thousand lines. Hoav could I catch fish under such conditions ? I myself Avas caught up, and saAv a vision of the Spirit of Nature, robed in the morning light. I soon pulled up my anchor, and set out for Pebble Beach. THE LAW OF LABOR. July 27. — This forenoon I spent in fixing my boat to receive a small sail. I confess that I seldom enjoy roAV- ing. It is suggestive of the primal curse of labor. It represents to me the struggle of man against nature, and PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 155 when I am pulling against the tide, the waves, or the wind, I feel that I am simply in line with most human effort since the world began. Civilization began with the effort of man to overcome nature, and the curse of God has chiefly accompanied it. I see a higher law for man than this conflict with the forces that are around him. I see that it is possible for him to live so in harmony with nature that his work shall be a blessed play, a recreation, yes, verily, a re-creation, for it will be the creative power working through him. I see that this will come so soon as man begins to obey his instincts, and to yield to that Infinite Power which saturates the world and all things therein. When I spread my sail to the breeze, I am in harmony with nature. Her power drives my boat. I am no longer a wretched galley slave, laboring at my heavy task, but a spirit of joy, a comrade of the bird, the fish, the nautilus. I ride in a chariot of the sun, for 'tis he who drives the horses of the winds, l^eptune's chariot was not more beautiful than is my boat to me, when her wings are filled with the sweet breath of old ocean. The bounding waves leap up to sport with me, and seem conscious of my joy. this Infinite Nature in which we live ! This Infinite Power by which we are surrounded ! Yea, this Infinite Life, which throbs in every tiny form that hides even in the ocean caves! How has man escaped it? How missed his share in its bounteous energy and health? Surely by pulling against the stream of nature, and not by sailing with her glad, fresh currents. Henceforth let me sail, float, fly ; but let me crawl and creep, toil and struggle no more again forever ! THE TRUE HEAVEN. I DO not write as much as I feel that one ought who seems to have no other occupation in life. Whether it is because I find so little that is notable in my daily life, 156 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. or whether it is because every moment is full of thoughts and suggestions which it were hopeless to attempt to state, I cannot say. My life seems often commonplace, and yet, as I look back at it from some point of vantage, it is full of beauty. I live in the presence of the sublimest thoughts. I commune with Mystery, with Destiny, and listen to oracles from the Soul, and yet I do not set these down in writing. I face Infinity, I ask prayerful ques- tions, and hearken attentively to the answers given ; but it does not seem meet to set them down. I cannot put my highest dreams and visions into words. I see my thought reflected in the shimmer of golden light upon the waters of the bay, when the full moon sails out above the hills. That sparkling track of light, poured out like molten gold upon the waves, seems to me a path to para- dise. I would follow that, obeying the mystic charm of the beautiful queen of night, even as the waves, the sportive children of the sea, obey it. That beauty draws me with a power I cannot resist, and makes the world of garish day seem bald and barren. Truly the kingdom of heaven is within. Man may have so much of heaven as he is able to put within his breast. By purification, by aspiration, by growth in holiness, this world is all transformed, and the growing soul can feel no longing for a better world beyond the far horizon. The beauty that a man can see he will find here and now. If he should go to another world, he would find no more. No shore of heaven can be fairer to my eyes than is this shore of ocean. Purification of the heart is the only road to heaven. DRIFTING. July 28. — This morning I stocked my boat with a day's rations, water, fish-line, sketching outfit, etc., and started for an outing. I went with the wind, having no especial preference as to direction. I suppose if any one PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 157 had asked me where I was gomg, I should have answered him, "Chasing sunbeams." It is a great victory over personal will when we can say "This day I am Fate's and Nature's child. Let the good Destiny do with me whatsoever it will. I am content. I have no plot or plan. To-day I choose not to work, but to be worked upon." I coasted along the island to the southeast, my boat not so much sailing as drifting before a very light breeze. I felt that to-day I had as much leisure as nature herself, and could afford to be content with the breeze she gave me. If she had sent a dead calm, I doubt if I should have taken to the oars, but should rather have said : " Very well, let there be peace. Let the wind rest from blowing and the waves cease from rolling. I will meditate on eternity." I passed Rocky Point, where a dozen boats were an- chored, their occupants earnestly engaged in angling. I coasted gently along Pebble Beach, and saw huge fishes leap and tumble in eager pursuit of minnows. At the southern end of the beach is a high, steep, rocky point, and here were more boats with fishers. Still on I drifted, dreaming pleasant dreams and watching the sea-gulls in their graceful flight. After an hour or two of this easy drifting, the wind died out so that it did not keep the sail extended. Then, seeing a j)oint which I took to be Seal Eock, I let down the sail and took up the oars. Soon I found the wind ahead, coming strongly around a jut- ting point, and the sea began to roll heavily. I heard the hoarse honking of a sea-lion, and soon I saw the huge ungainly fellow on a rock, looking out at me. Then I heard the barking of seals, and soon a whole colony of them appeared on Seal Rock. Another old watch-dog of a sea-lion set up a noisy honking, making the rocks re- echo. I rowed as close to the rock as the heavy sea would permit, and watched with deep interest the curi- 158 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. ous colony. The big fellows became suspicious of jiiy intentions, and with a hoarse cry plunged off the rock, diving for some distance. They swam around the rock, looking at me and hoarsely bellowing, and seemed to be solicitous for the safety of the brood. After watching them for some time I rowed away, the echoes of the sea-lion's bellow mingling with the roar of the waves breaking among the rocks. TEAVELING TEUTHWARD. Aug. 2^. — Yesterday I started about 9 a.m. in my boat for a sail along the island toward the north. There was a light breeze, which carried me fast enough for any busi- ness I had on hand. I was thinking as I drifted slowly along that after all it makes very little difference how fast we travel, if we are traveling for moral growth. If my journey is profitable, perhaps the longer it is, the better. If it is not profitable, why should I undertake it at all ? I should have lost a great deal yesterday had I been hustled from here to the Isthmus in a steam yacht. Sometimes we are in a feverish condition of unrest, and desire fast traveling simply because it takes ns from the place where we are and puts us elsewhere in a shorter time. But this is a spurious cure. The heroic and real way to get away from trouble or discontent is to travel with the mind toward truth. The faster we go in that direction the better for us ; but in any other direction it seems to me to make very little difference at what speed we go. A few days ago when my boat was becalmed and the sail hung limp and empty, I thought that after all I was speeding along at a mighty rate, through the sea of space. My good ship the world never gets becalmed, or out of her course, and on her deck I travel as no steamboat passenger ever did. Why not call a halt to our railroad trains, steamships and sailing vessels, once in awhile. PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 159 and consider on what a craft we are all traveling toward eternity ? Are we drifting on the sea of space, or is our good ship Captained by Infinite Love and Wisdom? What freight we carry on this voyage! What is our port ? I find that the size of one's ship is not the real thing to consider, but whither he is bound. Yesterday I was passed by several yachts, with large sails, and I suppose the occupants of them felt some pity, possibly contempt, for the lone sailor whose craft was creeping forward at such a slow pace. But I said to myself, I am sailing for the sail, and they are doubtless sailing for some port. Each is fitted with what he needs most ; they with sails, I with leisure and content. I sailed along until I had passed White's Canon. Just beyond there the breeze died out entirely, and I took up the oars. Eowing along under high rocky bluffs, I feasted my eyes on the luxuri- ant sea-weed, growing in long trailing streamers from the rocks at the bottom. I saw scores of goldfish leisurely swimming in and out of the dark green masses, and schools of the lively bass here and there, darting away from my boat and vanishing like shadows among the sea-weed. I coasted along the shore for some distance, passing under huge overhanging cliffs, where the action of the waves had in many years worn out great caves, from which came deep, hollow roars and gurglings of the waves. Sea-birds soared around, alighting on points of rock and looking at me. The fishes around my boat seemed very companionable, and I felt a friendliness in the surround- ings that made human society for the time very unneces- sary to my happiness. I landed on a small beach, and gathering some driftwood made a fire under an over- hanging rock, and cooked my dinner. I had a melon, and some griddle-cakes, without any condiments or trimmings, and felt that I should never want a finer meal. 160 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. HEALTH AND HUNGER. So welcome does hunger make the plainest and coarsest food, that I am inclined to set down to the score of ill health much more than it is ordinarily charged with. I set down luxury in food, in dress, in household equip- ment, as largely due to the invalidism which needs to be pampered and coaxed into eating, or even into existing at all. When a man is healthy, hungry, and happy, he does not count his spoons. He does not have the patience to study a long menu, but says, ^^ Let me have something to eat, and that at once ; no matter what, so it be legiti- mate food." I think that disgust for food and disgust for life are both symptoms of a certain invalidism, or disease ; and that perfect health makes a man enjoy any sort of food, and any sort of life. This world is very appetizing to one who is hungry for life. I can eat it in large slices, without salad or dressing, when I am feeling well. But let me have a fit of the blues, and the fairest portions of the earth are indigestible. I refuse them peevishly, and want something else, — what, I do not know. Let us have health, brothers, and the world will be a great ripe melon, which we will sit down to with a zest no school- boy ever felt. We shall eat thereof and be glad, and suffer no colic. Health is the one sauce for the world. Eaten with that, it is infinitely relishing ; but without it, most of us find very poor eating indeed. After dinner I continued my journey toward the Isth- mus, rowing in the face of a stiff breeze and contending with heavy seas. I rowed thus for perhaps three miles, and then concluded that I had gone as far as my business called me. I brought my boat up into the wind, and shook out my leg-of-mutton sail, and was soon speeding away for home. Running before the wind, I saw that my mast was being overstrained, and I was preparing PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 161 for a break when suddenly I heard a crash, and the mast was broken in the middle. I had taken off my heavy shoes, and disengaged myself from the ropes in expecta- tion of a breakdown, and so was in nowise put out by the sudden mishap. I quickly gathered the sail and top of the mast in from the water, and before old Neptune knew what I was doing, had them safely stowed in the boat, and was pulling for calm water just behind a jut- ting point of rocks. I landed, spliced my mast with rope, took a reef in the sail, hoisted it again, and put out to sea. The boat flew before the stiff breeze, even under this short sail, and I was not long in reaching Avalon. I came into port with all my rigging, though in a rather dilapidated condition. I brought back with me a quan- tity of sea-shells, considerable salt water, and much expe- rience of a valuable nature. SPIEITS OF THE NIGHT-WINDS. Aug. 4. — I awoke last night, some time after one or two o'clock, probably, and drawing the curtain of my door I stood looking out over the bay, where the waning moon, now in her last quarter, was pouring from her golden urn a stream of light upon the rippling water. Lights gleamed in the rigging of the steamer and the yachts that lay at anchor in the bay, and a few stars overhead peeped down as if to greet me, the child of fancy, arising to look at my native world. Why is it that the night and the twilight and the dim glow of the morning sky have ever possessed such a charm for poetic minds ? Is not the day beautiful ? Is not the Sun-king glorious in his regal robes ? Are not the hills and valleys glorious in the poured-out light of the noonday sun? Yes, but the night and the morning are more beautiful, because then the dim light awakes the creative energies of the soul, and to the world before her she adds another world of her OAvn creation, filled with the creatures of her own fancy. What fairy creat- 162 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. ures inhabit that mystic world that lies just beyond the horizon of this one, when out of it the golden moon arises, to bring trooping in her train the airy nymphs of the upper sea ! Star-lights are the torches of fairy troops, marching or dancing to the music of the winds. The moon is their sun, and on its beams they ride through the misty air, chanting their glad songs. Spirits of the night-winds, sweeping your harps with delicate hands, sing to me the songs of memory's mystic strains. Out of the darkening past arise the phantoms of things that were ; the joys of youth, the expectations of boyhood, the joyous visions of the future years. Sing to me those strains, O spirits of the night- winds, and let your harps be tuned to sweeter notes than any I have ever heard from instruments of earth. Let the golden harmonies of the morning stars, sung in the early dawn of creation's day, become the themes of your celestial music ; and let the notes ring out upon the still night air to charm the ear of listening earth. I hear the murmur of the waves upon the beach, I catch the whispers of the wandering breeze, sporting with his fairy love, the spirit of the morning star; 1 hear the murmur of night's mystic voices, rising on the stilly air; I catch faint echoes of a starry music, compact of all the aspirations of the souls of men, rising to join the harmony of the spheres ; I know the melodies of the sea, the earth, the air ; I have heard them all, chanted by the waves, the winds, the branches of the trees ; I know that there are fairer melodies than all of these, melodies which the soul of man doth hear when with a reverent ear he listens at the opened gates of heaven; I know that melodies are throbbing on the air which never soul of man hath heard, and I would fain be blessed with some faint echo of these strains. Sing, then, my spirits of the still night-winds, and let me hear the melodies which fill the soul with joy untold. I would hear the music which can charm the soul from all alle- PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 163 giance to the grosser things of earth; which, leading heavenward with its witching strains, doth draw the soul still onward, u^^ward, to its native air. The music of the soul, spirits of the still night-winds, I would have you sing to me and charm my ear from all the sounds of earth. I listen for that music day and night, uplifting heart and mind to catch its faintest echo on the air; I know that it is sweeter than the sounds of waves upon the beach, sweeping the many-stringed lyre of the sands; I know that it is sweeter than the music of the winds, playing their symphonies in the boughs of trees, or in the tangled meshes of the waving grass ; I know that it is one with those sweet notes which T have heard at twi- light's mystic hour, when all the spirits of the day are sinking into sleep, and nature draws the misty mantle of the night around the bed of earth. I know that it will chime with those sweet notes which I have heard upon the morning air, when first the light of dawn doth waken in the east, and tint the sky with colors of the soul ; those notes to which the birds do listen before they tune their pipes to play the first glad symphony of opening day. The fairest notes which I have heard, when with the heartstrings delicately tuned I listen to the faintly throb- bing music of the world, are coarse and harsh to that sweet music of the soul which you can sing, spirits of the still night-winds ; and therefore would I hear those golden notes, compact of all the sweetest tones of heaven. Sing to me, then, and let your harps of moonbeams be attuned to sound a fit refrain. My soul is listening, and my heart is still. I see your light-draped forms flitting among the shadows of the crags, and sporting with the shifting mists. I see you trailing streamers of the dark sea- weed among the wave-kissed rocks. I see you float- ing in the drifting clouds, your garments gleaming with the moonlight's golden touch. I know you well, spirits of the still night-winds, and know your songs are sweeter 164 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. than the fairest songs of earth. Sing to me, then, and let my soul be charmed to follow where you lead. With chords of melody I would be led by you to fairest, purest skies, where all the visions of the soul are real, and things are what we dream ; where joys of which the soul hath hints in hours of inspiration have a real abiding-place, and all is harmony and love. These visions of the soul, fair spirits of the still night-winds, are all made real in those fairy realms to which your music leads. Sing to me, then, and let my soul be charmed to follow you, in all your airy flights. Over the rolling sea, around the tower- ing cliffs, where flying s^Dray makes music 'mong the rocks, over the mountains with their wreaths of clouds, toward the golden gateway of the morn, where on the shores of day the waves of mystic space do roll and break, there would I follow you, on aspiration's daring wing, spirits of the still night-winds. Sing to me, then, and 1 will follow you, even to the farthest shores of Time, where the eternal mists are gathered, glowing in the breaking light of heaven's dawn. SPHERE-MUSIC. Aug. 6. — I sit in solitude on the beach of the great sea. Around me are only the works of nature. I seem to be living in the very morning of the world. So always doth communion with the spirit of nature annihilate Time, and restore man, out of his puny, struggling life, to the Primal Creation. I commune with the Spirit that was before the world. I am one with that Spirit, and Time and Space are not. I perceive that a man returns to paradise when he uplifts his soul to commune with this ancient Spirit. I am not in Time. I am in the realm of Creative Laws. I hear the music of the spheres. From the realm whence goeth forth the edict of Creation I look out over Time and the Worlds. I perceive the struggles of life. I see that in many worlds death pre- PAGES mOM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 165 vails, and birth, and sin. But I see other worlds where -these are not. I see other worlds where Harmony is the ever-present law. There Love rules, and there are shin- ing gods. And out of the realm whence goeth forth the edict of Creation 1 see the future as the past : Life, in its countless rounds of birth and death ; the birth of wisdom, through toil and suffering ; and the achievement of the Perfect Life, whence Immortality is born. I see the glorified, in their white robes of purity and peace. From Time and Space they come, to inhabit Infinity and Eter- nity forevermore. Blessed vision, thou art prophetic, and my soul is comforted in thee. IDEAL EOOD. Atig. 8. — My simple fare is as consistent with happi- ness as with health. A table set with fruit and nuts nourishes not only the body but the soul. I eat not merely with the appetite of the flesh, but my soul's hun- ger for beauty is fed as well. When my table is set, it is a fit subject for an artist's brushes ; but what artist would choose a rib of beef or a mutton chop as a subject for a picture ? A golden muskmelon, fragrant and sweet ; a bunch of purple or white grapes ; a few peaches and plums; a section of \vatermelon, with its brilliant black seeds set like gems in the rich, red tissue; a plate of ripe, red tomatoes, glowing with rich color ; such food as this would furnish a subject for a painting, and afterward nourish the hand and brain that wielded the brushes. Who could write a poem to a piece of pie ? or an ode to a beefsteak ? or compose an oration on the qualities of boiled ham ? Faugh ! But fruit and nuts tempt the very muses, and inspire the mind with fancies as delicate and beautiful as their own nature. Poetry may well be composed on such a diet. Who could fail to write beauti- fully after having dined on distilled dewdrops, crystal- lized sunbeams, perfumed airs, tints of morning and evening ? 166 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. We are told that fruits and nuts will not furnish the body sufficient nutriment, and that meats and coarse vege- tables must be added. I would not decide this question for another, but it seems to me that what is purest and best in me is well nourished by fruit and nuts. If there is a beast in me craving flesh, I prefer to let him starve. He cannot die too soon for the good of my higher nature. To speak more distinctly, I believe that our diet is chiefly an indication of our constitution, and our habits of life and thought. If I can live purely enough, dwelling in the highest realm of my being, I believe that the dainti- est and purest foods will satisfy my needs. But if I live coarsely, I must eat coarsely. The beast in me eats only when he is active. If I can put him to sleep, he will not growl for his meat. When my intellectual and spiritual faculties are most active my diet is the purest. I think that when the body is sufficiently dominated by the higher faculties, so that even manual labor is an intellectual and spiritual exercise, a diet of fruit and nuts will be adequate to the needs of the hardest manual worker. At present, manual workers seem to need a coarser diet ; but this may be due to the fact that the digestive apparatus has degen- erated so far as to be unable to extract sufficient nutri- ment from its natural food. Our bodies have been so miseducated by generation after generation of false habits, that their present demands and apparent needs are no criterion of their possibilities. I do not advocate a reform by arbitrary methods. I do not believe that character is determined by diet, but diet by character. I wish to reform the man, and then let him reform his diet. When higher ideals have taken possession of the mind, when the soul loves purity so much that impurity and uncleanness in food have become offensive, then a reform is instituted which will be last- ing. But to eat from prescription, to weigh and analyze PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 167 one's food, to feed by rule, I Avould not sanction. Do not imagine that I care what you eat, so long as you, the eater, are the same. You convert all food into yourself. If you are impure, you will extract impurity from the fairest fruits, as the bee extracts its poison from the flower. If you are sensual, all food will nourish your sensuality. If you are pure enough, you may eat pork, and not become swinish ; but I think you will have to eat with your eyes closed and your conscience asleep. I speak of the qualities of food merely that you may know that there is a food as pure as your highest aspiration ; a food on which your soul's best faculties may feed. By turning your thought to the subject you are benefited, whatever food you eat ; for you become purer by com- munion with Purity. THE LIFE OF PEACE. Aug. 9. — To-day I am on a beach about two miles from Avalon. The sea is calm, scarcely a ripple disturb- ing the smoothness of its surface. The glorious sunshine pours over all, filling the whole earth Avith splendor. Great masses of clouds hang in the eastern horizon, tinted to a rosy hue, betokening a hot day on the mainland. Two large yachts are drifting by, their sails scarce filled by the lazy breeze. E-ow-boats with merry crews glide along, ravens are sailing overhead, croaking hoarsely, and occasionally I see a flock of gulls in graceful flight, mak- ing a sort of squeaking noise, as if the hinges of their wings were in need of oil. The tide is coming in, and rushes purling among the rocks, advancing with each wave a little farther on the shore. Altogether it is such a day as should restore the human soul to its universal relations, and bring it into harmony with the Divine, All-Perfect Life. The spirit of Peace, which broods over the sea and over the golden hills, possesses me utterly, and fills me with a celestial joy. I dismiss the perplexi- 168 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. ties of the world, the desire for earthly riches, and am made rich in the soul's treasure, which moth and rust do not corrupt nor thieves break through and steal. It seems to me that human life should be attuned to this sweet harmony which sounds in the purling music of the waves. Why should we worry and fret, and heat our blood with care ? Is not life a holiday, and happiness its end ? For what else was this beautiful world created, with its lakes and rivers, its seas and islands ? I would be as happy and free as the sea-birds which sail over the blue waters and habit among the rocks. "Why should I fret my soul with self-imposed tasks, the only reward of which is the plaudits of my neighbors ? Give me simple food, a shelter from inclement weather, and clothing to cover my body, and what else do I need for happiness ? I have learned that peace and happiness increase as my worldly possessions decrease. I would be free to follow the soul's leadings, for that way lies the divinest and most happy life. To be at peace with the world, to com- mune with Truth and Beauty, to breathe the divinest air, this is the soul's native right, and I would not sell it for any mess of the world's pottage. I have moments when it seems to me that merely to live is the divinest privilege ; to breathe the sweet air, to bask in the sunshine, to look on the beautiful world about me, seems then a joy the gods might envy. I do not ask for heaven ; I ask only that I may worthily live on earth. With health and contentment, no man need be beholden to the world of conventional society. Let me live in a hut, which my own hands have built and beautified ; eat the fruits and nuts of the earth, fresh from nature's bounteous storehouse ; have a few books and a few wise friends, and I will spurn the luxuries of an emperor. It is in our own mind that riches must be sought, and in our own mind that evils must be banished. I am a world unto myself. The soul builds her own sphere. Out of PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 169 lier own infinite resources she furnishes it, and peoples it. All things wait for admission to that world. As I invite them, they enter, and are mine. As wisdom unfolds in me, as beauty opens my eyes, as good warms my heart, my world grows larger and finer ; and when I can say " I am one with the All-in-All," then is my world a paradise, and I a god. THE TRUE FEEEDOM. For the past few years I have been as earnest to re- duce my possessions as most persons are to increase theirs. I realize that the only contentment lies in free- dom from the world's goods. To earn and maintain such an establishment as most men deem necessary would make my life a slavery from which nothing but death could release me. I cannot find my pleasure in the ways of the world, but in ways exactly the opposite. I am bound outward, away from the things of the earth, while the ships which I have spoken are all bound toward them. How shall I find company when such is the case ? I would flee unto the Avilderness, there to commune with the Spirit which made and preserves it, fresh as in the morning of creation. There habits peace, and rest from the turmoil of the world. The ends I would strive for are peace, content, and a life in harmony with the Divine Laws. I do not care for the applause of the world, I do not care much for its good opinion. I care very much for the approval of my own conscience, however, and to get that I have often been obliged to ignore the opinion of my neighbors. To simplify my life until I am free to live after my highest intuitions, to make it so pure and cleanly that I may be worthy to entertain thoughts of truth, this is my highest ambition. I am not regardless of the effect of my life upon others, and nothing is farther from my thoughts than a selfish existence whereof the fruit falls to the ground untasted by other men. But I know that my highest usefulness 170 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. to my fellow-men will come from perfect loyalty to my highest perceptions of right and truth. I cannot serve man by ignoring God. My good Genius is constantly leading me closer to the divine laws, and showing me their beauty, and charming me to follow them. I can- not ignore these divine leadings for any alleged duty to my neighbors. Shall I leave gazing at the stars to look on some rushlight which my neighbors are pleased in ? HABITATION. Man is the only animal that makes a habitation much larger than his own body. The nest of the bird fits the bird, the burrow or den of the animal has a definite rela- tion to the size of the animal. But man seems to think that he must wall and roof in a quarter section of land, before he is housed. Why not have the earth for our house, and domesticate it not by enclosing it with brick or lumber, but by bringing ourself into vital sympathy with Nature ? The sky is an excellent roof, if you are in love with its blue and its floating clouds, or its clus- tered stars at night. The earth is my garden. The spirit of Life is my gardener, who keeps it filled with the most beautiful trees and flowers and grass. I find a wondrous aquarium in the sea, whose clear, blue waters are filled with varied forms of life. The birds and squirrels are my pets, free to go and come when they please. To cage them would rob them of all interest to me. I cannot find pleasure in what causes pain to any creature. Free- dom for me must be based on freedom for every creature in any way related to my life. You put me in prison when you cage my pets. You lacerate my heart when you wound or kill them. In my little lodge, only seven feet square, its walls builded of old weather-beaten boards, its roof of canvas ; its furniture a bunk and small table built of boards, and a box for a seat ; in this humble habitation, I say, which PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 171 most poor people would refuse to live in, I find the largest freedom and joy; for my soul has the world it- self for a home, and infinite space for elbow room. A house, even the largest, is small and poor, if you live in that only. But a hut, a cave in the rocks, is a mansion, when you expand intellectually to the world's limits. Yes, I have a very large house, for it is as high as the sky, as wide as the world, and furnished with nature's best. And I live alone in my house, and am not troubled with callers. There are many people breathing the same air, treading the same dirt, with me; but they do not live in the same world, and are not of my household. In some rooms of my house I have dear friends, but we do not trespass upon each other. We respect the sacred solitude that should ensphere every human soul. I find that as my house contracts, my world grows larger. The farther I go from civilization, the nearer I come to na- ture : and nature is infinite, inviting the soul to expand to her own dimensions. I find that even a smaller house would be adequate to my needs. If I might have the conditions which I would like, my house should be but little larger than my body. It should be merely a sort of great-coat, to be put on in cold or stormy weather. I cannot understand why we should wear a coat so much too large for our needs. I prefer to clothe myself with air and sunshine. I wear the summer sky for a hat, and it is none too large. For a chamber I like a cozy place under a cluster of shrubs, where the night-winds may whisper to me through all my dreams, and where I may see the stars above me in every waking moment. Beautiful Night ! How I do love thee ! And shall I shut thee out of my house, with thy star-spangled drapery, thy lustrous eyes, thy hair of trailing clouds ? Shall I not rather invite thee as my best-beloved, my bride, and prepare a holy chamber for thee, where thou mayst visit me ? Dark-haired one, 172 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. with moonlighted brow, and eyes of starbeams, how shall I sing thy praise ? I cannot sing of thee, my song is not worthy. Let me love thee, and adore thee, and make myself worthy that thou shouldst visit me. Let me drape my couch with nothing heavier than the thin night-mists, and enclose it with only the leaves of trees, that thou mayst find ready entrance to it, and visit me in my slumbers, and kiss my brow with thy cool lips, and caress my hair with thy delicate fingers, and whisper to me thy secrets, kept from the ears of day. And thou, fair Morning, how shall I be pure enough to look on thee ? Thy countenance is rosy with the blush of health. Thou fair Spirit of the east, I would be worthy to look on thy radiant form, as thou risest from thy cloud-draped bed, and standest gazing on the earth, calling thy children in grove and meadow to waken to another day. Thou enchantress of the eastern sky, wav- ing thy wand of sun-rays, working such miracles of trans- formation ! Glowing clouds, bars of golden light, shifting colors of the rainbow, these are thy elements, Spirit of the eastern sky, with which thou dost enchant my soul. And shall I put a wall between thee and me, so that I can never look upon thy beauteous face ? I would rise with thee, fair Spirit, and fill my soul with the glory which thou dost shed abroad upon the earth. 1 would begin my day as gloriously as thou dost begin it, and with the memory of thy beauty and purity I would sanctify each hour thereof, and make it holy. THE SPIEIT OF THE SEA. Aug. 12. — Sitting by the breaking waves, my ears filled with their sweet music, I seem to commune with that beautiful Spirit, the Spirit of the Sea. I feel her mystic presence, and I hear the murmur of her voice. She is fairer than the human heart hath dreamed. Moonlight, starbeams, the glow of morning skies, these are her companions ; and from them she borrowed colors PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 173 to tint the chambered shell and paint the myriad fishes of the deep. She hath her special world, a world un- known to mortals dwelling on the land. Her caves and grottoes are bejeweled with such gems as never decked the crown of king or queen. The angels visit her, to borrow jewels for their brightest crowns; and of her wave-swept sands they learn to chant their purest melo- dies of joy. Ocean Spirit, be my bride, and let me woo thee with my purest love. Thy tresses of the dark sea-weed, thine eyes of jewels, lighted by the stars, thy teeth of whitened pebbles, and thy purling laughter, rippling from thy parted lips, as o'er the beach thy curl- ing waves retreat ; these do I love, fair Spirit of the Sea, and fain, would call thee sweetheart, lover, bride. Fair Spirit of the Sea, Wilt thou my sweetheart be, And give me leave to woo thee, Gentle Spirit of the Sea ? I'll dedicate to thee, My Sweetheart of the Sea, My purest, noblest thoughts, My highest minstrelsy. Of thee I'll ever sing, And unto thee I'll bring , My treasures of the soul ; 'And where thy billows roll I'll build an altar pile Whereon to lay the gifts That are most dear to thee, Sweet Spirit of the Sea; For thou art fair and pure, My Sweetheart of the Sea, And dost my heart allure, And draw me after thee, To worship at thj^ feet, My Goddess of the Sea, cast me not away, My Sweetheart of the Sea, And all my life I'll strive To worthily love thee. LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 3>»:c INTO THE WILDEENESS. Leaving Boston the last of June, 1892, I spent two months camping in the great Adirondack wilderness. I did not go to the Adirondacks to hunt and fish, though it is a good region for such sport. I went for rest and recreation, and to learn what lessons I might from the teaching of wild Nature. I believe that as man is the child of Nature, he should be on more intimate terms than most of us are with his good Mother. I will ask the reader to go with me through some of the scenes of this great wilderness, hoping that we may find a way of the Lord therein; a way of truth and higher life; walking wherein, we shall see somewhat else than mountains and streams and wild forests ; somewhat more beautiful than summer skies and moonlighted mountain lakes ; for Truth and Beauty outshine all physical forms of them, and the soul's highest visions come not through the physical eye, but through her own deep insight and apprehension. Let us go to the wilderness as the Hebrew prophets of old went thither ; to worship the Spirit that hath its altars there ; altars of unhewn stone, upon which no tool has been lifted up to defile them. CHATEAUGAY CHASM. Arriving at Chateaugay station, after a day's pleasant journey, we take stage for the Chasm House, that we may 174 LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 175 tarry a day or so amid the wonders of Chateaugay chasm. Here our real journey begins, though not amid the rudest scenes of the wilderness ; for Chateaugay is a center of civilization, a village of eight or ten hundred population. Taking lodging at the hotel, with some protest against its features of civilization and conventional living, wishing that we were to be lodged in some bark hut instead, we will rest ourselves and make ready to explore the mighty chasm. Chateaugay chasm is a most remarkable fissure in the earth, over one hundred feet in depth, and perhaps half a mile in extent. Its sides are precipitous, but well clothed with vegetation. Between its rugged walls a mountain stream, the outlet of the Chateaugay lakes, boils and roars over its rocky bed. The veil of rising mist clothes the rugged rock-giants, in their sculptured niches, with a delicate drapery of rainbow tints ; and the mingling music of this mighty organ makes a fitting overture to the scene. AVhat mighty power cleft this mountain wall and let this wild stream pour its waters through the opening ? Was it some Thor, with mighty hammer, who, hearing the lamentations of the imprisoned waters, smote the prison door and bade the waters speed away to the dis- tant sea ? This stream, like the human soul, yearned to return to the great Sea from which it came ; it beat against its prison bars, and at last found glad release ; and now its song of joy and thanksgiving rises in min- gling echoes to greet the soul with a prophecy of glad release from the rock-bound prison of Life ; release and glad return to that Sea of Eternal Being from which it came like a vapor hither to the fields of Time. CHATEAUGAY LAKES. Leaving the mingling echoes and awe-inspiring scenes of Chateaugay chasm, we take stage for Chateaugay lakes. A ride of four miles brings us to the landing on the 176 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. lower lake, where a small steamer awaits us, to convey us to the upper lake. We steam through the narrow channel and come out upon the broad surface of the lake. The shores are wild, and unbroken save by an occasional summer camp. Soon we are in the winding channel which connects the lower with the upper lake. We pass a group of charcoal ovens, from which rise clouds of dense smoke, the spirits of slaughtered trees, sacrificed to the iron industry on Lyon Mountain. They ascend to heaven, and before the Divine Throne they accuse the greed of man, which is stripping these grand mountains of their forests and leaving death and desolation in the place of life and beauty. As we glide out upon the rippling waters of Upper Chateaugay, blue mountains rise grandly in the southern horizon. The rugged shores are broken here and there by a clearing, where some lover of wild nature has built a summer camp. Two hotels at the lower end of the lake, and a primitive place of entertainment at the upper end, serve the needs of the tourist or fisherman. Wish- ing to get as far as possible from all traces of civilization, I went to the Indian Point house, where I remained several days, exploring the lake and making views. The Chateaugay lakes have been very little tainted by civili- zation. The shores are chiefly tangled wilderness, where the deer roams in unrestricted freedom. Trails, narrow, rough, and muddy, lead through the wilderness to vari- ous fishing and hunting grounds. The loon haunts the lonely shores, and raises her wild cry in mocking protest against the incoming reign of man. In many places along the shores stand the skeletons of forest giants, in the water up to their knees, raising their whitened arms to heaven in mute supplication. The lake rising about their roots has killed them, and their bleached trunks make the lonely scene doubly desolate. Many of them have fallen prostrate, and their limbs look, under the LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 177 rippling water, like huge white serpents, ready to coil themselves about the rash invader of their haunts. When the lake is quiet the blue mountains are imaged upon its surface in unspeakable beauty. It seemed to me that the very trees were conscious, and that they gazed with pride upon their noble forms, reflected in that crystal mirror. Strong and beautiful, their leaves are never corrupted by the smoke and dust of civilization. Their arms, out- stretched to the blue heavens, are not yet paralyzed by the touch of the electric wire. Their foliage makes a covert for the squirrel and wild bird, and echoes only the sounds of nature's wild, free life. They seemed to greet me as an ancient comrade, returned from some long journey. They did not ask me of the world I had left. They seemed not curious concerning that, but highly satisfied with their own pure, sweet life. They breathed an atmosphere of health and quiet joy upon me, and I grew strong in their serene presence. Let the sick in mind or body flee unto them, in preference to all other physicians. They are the physicians of nature, tender, loving, and of infinite good spirits. In the early morning what a fine joy there is in rowing your light boat upon the still waters of the lake ! The air is sweet and pure, and silence reigns everywhere, broken only by the note of some wild bird. Nature seems holding her breath, in anticipation of the advent of a new day. The coming of Aurora, clothed in rosy light, is not heralded here by the rattle of carts on stone- paved streets. The wheels of the chariot of day make no noise on their airy road. Birds begin to sing, the waters of the lake are stirred as by a whiff of wind from the sweep of Aurora's garment, and a new day is with us. The fisherman is at his buoy, fishing for trout. He has cast in many bits of food, day after day, and now, when the trout have learned to come to this point to feed, he slips a hook into a bit of flesh, and the trout are betrayed. 178 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. Alas, that seeming generosity should so often conceal the hook of selfishness! But trout and men must learn to look before they bite ! Yonder is Pine Lodge, nestling among odorous pines, with the forest-clad mountains for a background. It is built upon a small island, scarce large enough to afford a landing-place after the buildings were erected. But on that small spot of land, surrounded not alone with water, but with a peace and quiet never found in the midst of a fashionable resort, some lover of nature spends his sum- mer days of rest, communing with the wild, sweet beau- ties that environ his humble habitation. The day here is full of peace, and the hours glide smoothly, with no jar of worldly care, toward a peaceful evening. When the day is done, and the occupant of this lodge has returned from some hunting or fishing trip, or perhaps from more innocent ventures, in search of beauty, or from some pilgrimage to the shrine of a mountain deity, he pauses in his light boat, and lets it rest awhile on the quiet surface of the lake, and watches the sky grow ruddy in the west. The shadows of the mountains and the pines fall upon still waters. The retiring Day-god beholds his ruddy face in the watery mirror. Out of the deep shadows the cry of a loon is heard, and then distant echoes answering it. We do not know what sunset is until we see it in a setting of nature's own handiwork. The sun does not rightly set behind brick buildings. He seems to slink behind them in shame that men should build such things to mar the face of nature. But how gladly and how fairly does he sink to rest behind the forest-clad hills! Birds sing his vespers, the sweet, unpolluted breath of heaven fans his hot face, and he sleeps in his rosy-curtained bed, leaving his fair sister Luna, with her attendant stars, to watch over the world in his absence. LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 179 SARANAC AND LAKE PLACID. After a few days of delightful experience at Lidian Point, the very name of which had recommended the place to me, I made preparation for departure to points farther south. A row-boat was placed at my service, and my baggage was taken in another by a guide. In this fashion we departed, rowing across the lake in the face of a stiff breeze, and, after an hour of hard pulling, reached Merrill's in time for dinner. Thence I took stage for Lyon Mountain, a station on the Chateaugay railroad, and embarked for Saranac. Saranac is a vil- lage of considerable proportions, which, however, had no charms for me, as I was trying to leave all villages and get into the woods. Here I took stage for Lake Placid, about nine miles away. The vehicle was a Concord wagon drawn by six horses. I took a seat on top where I could enjoy the fresh air and have a view of the coun- try through which we passed. The road was rough and the great vehicle rocked and swayed like a ship in a heavy sea. After a- ride of about three hours, through a wild country, our road-ship, with its load of passengers well shaken, reached Mirror Lake. Mirror Lake is Avell called the gem of the Adirondacks. It lies like a great shield of silver, its surface seldom ruffled by winds. Across the southern horizon stretches a range of mighty peaks, dim and blue in the distance. No picture could possibly suggest the spiritual beauty of the scene which greets the observer's eye in the morning, when the lake lies there like Aurora's mirror, reflecting the blue forms of the distant mountains. Mirror Lake and Lake Placid are divided by a narrow strip of high la,nd, on which are situated a number of fine hotels and cottages. From the summit you have a view of Lake Placid with Old AVhitef ace in the distance ; a noble peak, standing in solitary grandeur, its head scarred by the storms of many centuries. 180 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM. ABOVE. THE TENT UNDER THE PINES. Procuring a light "guide-boat," I set out to explore the shores of Lake Placid, to find a site for my camp, sufficiently removed from civilization to give me the solitude I wished for. The lake is about five miles in length, and I explored its shores and islands thoroughly, at last deciding upon a beautiful point known as Fish Rock, on the southeast shore. I had my camp outfit and baggage transferred from the cottage, where I had secured temporary lodgings, to the boat landing, whence I took it by row-boat to Fish Eock. A rain storm compelled me to stay at the cottage Friday and Saturday. Sunday morning dawned bright and clear, and I awoke at 5.30, impatient to be in the woods. I rose, and steal- ing softly out of the house made my way to the boat landing, where I took my boat for camp. I had left all my Sunday clothes at home, and so was safe from any temptation to attend church or any other place of social concourse. I came to camp out, and live with nature instead of man; and I have never noticed that the birds and squirrels pay any heed to a man^s clothing. It is only among men that we are ranked by our fur or feathers. I think that I shall lose no caste among the pines and fir trees by wearing old trousers and a flannel shirt. I notice that these trees around me wear the same coat from year to year. They do not change their raiment at the bid- ding of any tree in Paris or New York. And so I started about six in the morning, on the Lord's day, for camp, my mind busy with plans for m}' lodge. The morning was quiet and lovely, and the lake looked like a great mirror for goddess Aurora to make her toilet by. The mountains cast their blue images on the lake, and the azure sky was created anew on the placid surface. I rowed along the shore, taking in as I went any stray boards that were floating about, to be used in making my LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 181 tent floor. In about an hour I readied camp, with a good load of himber. First, after landing my lumber, I got breakfast. ^ That was my passover or Lord's breakfast, eaten religiously under the shade of the forest trees, a fit sacrament for the beginning of the Lord's day in the woods. Then I set about procuring the foundation for my house. Certain cedars, not so large, but fully as beautiful as the cedars of Lebanon, furnished the sills. Upon these I made a floor, ten feet square, of the driftwood which I had picked up. Then I erected my tent, and moved my possessions into it. It stands among the trees on a ledge of rock, perhaps fifteen feet above the level of the water, commanding a fine view of the lake and surrounding mountains. ° On Monday I went to the village and bought twelve yards of bed ticking, and made a fly for the tent, which makes my house as impervious to rain as a roof of shingles. My bed is a small tick filled with straw, and my bedding a number of blankets which have seen service in the Eocky Mountains and in the mountains of North Carolina. My camp stove has accompanied the blankets in their travels, and does as good service as ever. My diet is chiefly camp bread, made of graham flour and corn meal, with apple sauce made of dried apples. WILD VOICES. July i4. — Last night, soon after I had retired to my bunk, I was startled by the wild cry of a loon just back of my camp. She sounded her cry many times, on the still air, and it seemed to me that every cove on the lake was listening and echoing the weird sound. The ram was pattering on the roof of my tent, and out of the mystefioLis depths of the forest came faint sounds, the souo-hing of the wind through the branches, the chirpmg of insects; and from the lake the sound of lappmg waves ; and above it all the shrill cry of the loon rose, 182 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. like the wail of some troubled spirit. After a few moments of silence I heard it again, from a farther shore, and then another, in a higher key, answering it. As I listened to these sounds of wild nature, I thought they were sweeter to my ears than any sounds I had ever heard in town or city. There is such a vigor and fullness of life in these sounds of forest creatures, that human voices seem dull and tame in comparison. It is seldom I hear a human voice that has in it anything of that wild vigor and freshness. We are tamed and subdued, and our voices betray our condition. I want that vigor in man which is in every other creature. The crow's harsh note is musical to me, because it is so wild and free, and wakes in me that wildness for lack of which we are a race of invalids. Several evenings I have rowed to my camp from the settlement after dark. The lake in the evening, when the full moon floods it with soft light, is very beautiful. The great mountains seem very near, and mystery shrouds them. In the early morning the lake is a dream of beauty. Before the wind has ruffled it, and while the soft shadows still linger upon its surface, it is more beautiful than I have ever dreamed an earthly scene could be. The song of birds in the forest, and the chatter of squirrels, fitly celebrate the dawning of day upon such a scene of loveliness. A METAPHYSICAL SMUDGE. When the mosquitoes and gnats are troublesome I make a smudge of chips and leaves, and sit enveloped in the drapery of the smoke. That is an airy armor which is proof against all insect weapons. They cannot face that vapor, but content themselves with sounding their trumpet valiantly from, afar. So delicate and intangible often are our defenses against other enemies. Who knows what pestiferous people are kept at a respectful LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 183 distance by a certain atmosphere of reserve with which the sensitive man envelops himself ? When I hear the buzz and hum of some human insect who is approaching to sting and bite me with his gossip and nonsense, I make a smudge of dignified silence, and, surrounded by that as by an invisible vapor, I sit secure against attack. He may buzz from afar, but he cannot reach my ear with his little bill. But it is not alone enemies that are kept away by these vapors of thought with which we consciously or uncon- sciously surround ourselves. I doubt not that the angels of heaven are kept away from us by the atmosphere of earthliness which most of us generate out of our life and thus surround ourselves with. They cannot come near us because of the thick smoke of selfishness and materi- ality. If we would but refine our atmosphere, and make it by pure thought and aspiration like the rosy air of morning, fragrant with love and adoration, we might be visited by holy ones of the higher life, whose presence would comfort and strengthen us in hours of sadness or gloom. We cannot expect angels to push their way into the heavy atmosphere of a merely animal life. Let us make our life spiritual and surround ourselves with an atmosphere of light, and angels shall often visit us. MAN A STRANGER IN NATURE. July 15. — As I rowed to my camp from the settle- ment last night about ten o'clock, I was conscious of a certain shrinking fear, as of some indefinable danger ; and I knew that for once I was contemplating nature from the standpoint of the civilized man, to whom all places not made familiar by long association with men are wild and forbidding. I was bringing with me on my trip to the woods a certain atmosphere of conventional life, from the cottage where I had been spending a part of the evening ; and through this atmosphere, as a distorting 184 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. glass, nature did not appear as usual to me. I marveled, as I rowed over the smooth surface of the lake, sur- rounded by the great shadows of the mountains, why any portion of nature should ever seem strange or un- canny to any man. Are we not great nature's children ? Why should we contemplate any scene, however wild or strange, with a sense different from that of the wild bird ? Does the loon that wakes the nightly echoes with her wild cry feel any fear of dark or strange places ? Do the squirrels shrink from climbing any hitherto un- known tree until they have been introduced to it by some old resident ? Alas ! that nature should not always be familiar and inviting to every man. We have indeed become estranged, so that we go into the woods as into some demon's land, where terrible monsters are like to snatch us. How and when did Man become a stranger to his loving Mother ? How did he prodigal-like leave his Father's house to riot and revel and waste his sub- stance in this false civilization ? VACATION METHODS. When- I see in what manner people spend their vaca- tion season I am convinced that most men have forgotten how to live with nature. They go to a lake or moun- tain, and then spend the greater portion of their time dozing on some piazza, or reading idle books whose sole use is to make the reader oblivious of self and surround- ings : as if, forsooth, summer were of all times a season for intellectual and spiritual suicide. It should be a season for regeneration, a time for moulting, or casting the old skin, and putting on the new. In summer many people return for a time to the poetic life which once was man's ; and which might again be his, if he had the genius to subjugate this complex cunning civilization, and make it serve him, instead of becoming the slave of it. Our civilization should make men not less but more LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 185 poetical in their life. It should lift men above barbarism, not drag them below it. At present we live for the most part mean and degraded lives, because we have lost those poetic elements which our barbaric ancestors had, and have not found any new ones to take the place of them. We return once in a great while, once in a year perhaps, to hunting or fishing, and so are put in touch with those elements Avhich develop the poetic faculty ; the clouds, rivers, lakes, mountains, forests. But for the rest of the year we immerse ourselves in business and habits of liv- ing which leave our better and finer part untouched. We live so meanly during eleven months that when the one month of outing comes we are dulled and calloused so that nature does not touch us to worship and adora- tion, as it should touch each one of us. Our civilization should array itself in the beauty and purity of the moun- tains and lakes and fields. The SAveet breath of the pines should circulate through our city streets, and birds should sing before every door and window. Then should we be a race of poets, and not slaves. STOEM-MUSIC. July 16. — Last night, soon after I had gone to sleep, the powers of the wind were loosed, and the lake was lashed into foam ; while the harp of the forest, with its thousand leafy strings, played wild, tempestuous music. The evening had been quiet and sultry, and the sun had set among threatening clouds. I had left the front of my tent open, for ventilation, after making a smudge to drive away mosquitoes. When I was awakened by the roar of the wind and the dashing of the waves against the rock on which my house is builded, I was at first filled with a sense of vague terror. So dreadful is that danger which we cannot see and which we are powerless to avert, that perhaps every man, savage or civilized, sometimes feels terror at the display of nature's destruc- 186 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. tive energies. I arose and made all secure against the storm, and then sought again my couch. I lay for some time listening to the wild music of the wind, imagining myself in some snug schooner, safely anchored, riding out the storm with her breast valiantly fronted to the waves. The dashing of the waves and the flapping of my canvas helped the illusion until it was nearly real. Then, remarking to myself that the storm could very well go on without further attention on my part, I sank into sleep. When I awoke this morning the wind was still howling, and the sky was heavy with clouds. A fine rain was falling, or rather driving before the wind, and the lake looked sullen and ugly. But my good ship was still riding the waves, safely anchored, and no canvas lost. TIME-PHILOSOPHY. This morning I found that my watch had stopped, a little after midnight. The little creature, born of the cunning brain of man, whose heart had beat so compan- ionably against my own, had become weary after many years of life's experience, and its pulse was still. Doubt- less some tinker will work a miracle of resuscitation, but my own efforts to revive its life have been thus far unavailing. When I found that I was without a chro- nometer, I realized my solitude. Without any means of calculating time (for the sky was overcast, so that the sun, man's first and most regular timepiece, which never runs down or needs repairing, was of no avail to me) I felt that I had indeed returned to a natural mode of life. Nothing so connects a man with the rest of the world as a clock or watch. He may be beyond the reach of mail or telegraph, railroad train or newspaper ; but if he has a watch in his pocket, he keeps step in the march of civ- ilization. He rises, eats, sleeps, works, thinks by the chronometer. His relation to eternity is indicated by this little piece of mechanism ; for every time he looks LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 187 at its face he says to liiinself, " Thus far have I gone on the road of life; drive a stake here." The clock has made our whole life mechanical and unnatural. Instead of going to bed when we are sleepy and rising when we are not, ^ve reverse this natural order, and invoke Morpheus or exorcise him at the dictation of the clock. Chronos has thus been set over all the other gods ; and every knee bends to him. We should eat when we are hungry, and refrain when we are not ; but instead, when the hand reaches a certain jnark on the dial, we say, " It is time to eat " ; and nature in us must hurry up her processes and get ready her apparatus of digestion, to wait on this little tyrant, who wields the scepter and speaks in the name of great Chronos. When our aim should be to do a certain thing well, we try rather to do it before a certain time ; and our character suffers loss, that we may be loyal to the clock. Instead of " Watch and pray " our motto seems to be " Pray by the watch " : set aside so many minutes of our precious time to wor- ship God in ; robbing Chronos to pay Zeus. The calendar is only another form of clock, by which we know the particular hour in the year. " This is Sun- day, according to this calendar; therefore I will go to church, and pay my respects to God. On Monday I will begin again my service of the devil." So do we divide our life into seconds and minutes and hours and days, making some secular and some sacred, — though to what god we make them sacred I dare not say, — and our life consists of hours rather than deeds. That which was at first merely a convenience has become a necessity. The servant has become a most tyrannous master, and we all willingly wear his chain. Our hearts themselves have become mere clocks, beating the seconds of eternity; rather than organs of the divine life, throbbing with love and benevolence. I did not realize how fallen is man until I was compelled to spend one day without a time- 188 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. piece. So great is the contrast between a day so spent and tlie day as we usually pass it, with one eye fastened on the dial, while with the other we give indifferent atten- tion to the task we are performing, that I had almost said "Henceforth I will never look upon a dial again. '^ I shall certainly henceforth be less a slave, and wear my watch without a chain. If the chain were used to fasten the watch to the man, it would not be so objectionable ; but my observation has been that it always fastens the man to the watch. He goes about chained to that little tyrant, like any galley slave to his ship ; and through all his speech and actions I can hear the tick of the watch and the clank of the chain. Let us cut loose, broth- ers, and serve Zeus rather than Chronos. Let us live free and untrammeled, and try not how soon, but how well and truly we may do each task. PROVIDENCE AND TKUST. My writing to-day is punctuated with marks not recog- nized as legitimate by any authority that I have seen. I make a few strokes with the pen, and then I make a few with the axe, which is not so mighty a weapon, but one more necessary to camp life. I have set up my stove in my tent, and am obliged to occasionally neglect the fires of thought, and let them flicker for a time, in the inter- ests of the fire in my stove. If I were more provident, I should have a pile of dry wood chopped and split, against a cold and rainy day. But I have split so much wood in my life which I never found occasion to burn that I am getting to be skeptical of the old proverbs of prudence. We lay up fuel for a cold season, and the cold season never comes. Then we wish we had done something more profitable. I have always been exhorted to lay up something for a rainy day. But I have noticed that people who spend their pleasant days laying up something for a rainy day get little profit out of life. It LEAVES FEOM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 189 is a continual chopping and sawing, and when they die, they leave behind nothing but a great pile of dry wood for others to quarrel over. I would rather run some risk of shivering on some distant cold day, than to waste my pleasant days chopping wood. Most people act as if they were expecting nothing but rainy days, and are always trembling lest they shall have nothing laid up for them. And so every day is darkened by the clouds of the future, and so the sunshine dies out of human life. Why may we not trust that loyalty to the present is the best in- surance for the future ? I am getting more sweetness out of this cold rainy day than I usually do out of pleas- ant ones, in spite of the necessity for frequent trips to the woodpile. And yet, rainy days are the ones we are always worrying about, and using our pleasant days to provide against. My tent is snug and warm, and if some of my wood is wet, the fire dries it, and it burning in turn dries more ; and so prudence and providence fall in my estimation. I think there are far higher virtues than these. I think trust and faith are higher, and less com- mon. That is why I speak as I do. We need to be pointed to the things we do not see. We hold some things so close that they hide other things far more valuable. I perceive that a life is not to be judged by the com- monest criterions. The highest success of any life defies analysis. It cannot be expressed in material terms. It is like the tints of the rainbow, which can never be caught and condensed to die wool wdth. There is somewhat so beautiful in a life of trust and reliance upon the soul that I would exhort every man to seek after it more than after gold or precious stones. It distils an atmosphere of calm joy which envelops the man like a nimbus, and makes him beautiful to all beholders. Men feel when they see him that there is stability in somewhat else than granite and iron. A certain virtue goes out from him which up- lifts those who meet him. They are strengthened by 190 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. they know not what secret power. If they touch but the hem of his garment they are healed. UNDER THE STARS. Sunday, July 17. — Weather this morning cold and rainy, but with my stove in the tent I am very comfort- able. I have made my breakfast of blueberries and milk, with potatoes, and now I am waiting to see what the gods would have me do. Last night I sat up very late, I know not until what hour, developing some nega- tives. When I had finished I went out upon the rock and had a most glorious vision of the northern lights. Great sheets of flame rose from the horizon, making the heavens glorious, and on the calm surface of the lake the picture was repeated in varied splendor. The stillness of the night lent impressiveness to the scene, and alone under the illumined sky I worshiped and adored as never in the midst of a congregation. The soul needs solitude for her highest flights into the infinite. The presence of men disturbs and distracts. I, alone, worship God, the Alone. My camp was a holy tabernacle, where God showed himself unto me as unto the Israelites of old. I saw the pillar of fire in the heavens, pointing me what way I should aspire. Somewhere yonward lies the prom- ised land. Just over those mountain tops, dim and mysterious under the light of the midnight sky, I shall find what I have sought, — what Man has ever sought, and but few ever found. The soul ever defers and beckons. You shall not have what you wish, but by following faithfully you shall have somewhat far more lovely. So delicate are the illuminations of the soul, in the night watches of her solitary communion ; a sort of northern light, shooting up out of immensity to illumine her heavens. Thus delicately do visions of a higher life break on the soul ; not with flashes of lightning, or bold glare of noonday sun, but with a beauty like the lily's LEAVES FKOM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 191 petal, or like tlie first flush of dawn in the east. And it behooves man to rise at any time of the night or day to catch a glimpse of this in shining Light. I would watch nightly, with a vigilance unheard of, to catch the first gleam of that Northern Light that shines in upon the soul when it is one with the Infinite. No duty, no pleasure, should keep me from that privilege. But men are commonly so indifferent, that they would rather lie abed, or sit gossiping, than go alone to watch the northern horizon of the soul where this divine Light glows. we live so cheaply, when we might live so grandly ! The earth and sea and sky are full of admonitions of man's true nature, and yet in the presence of them all he forgets it and lives brute-like. THE SOUL'S YEAENING FOR WILD NATUEE. I THINK that my yearning for the wildness of unknown places is a certain instinct of the soul which seeks to lead man back to the divine nature from which he sprang. The closer we come to nature the nearer we are to God. By every step we take out of nature, into a conventional and artificial life, we bereave ourselves of God. Nature is so beautiful, so sweet, so strong, so pure, that man by communion therewith may catch some hint of his own possibilities. I hunger for wilder scenes than any I have ever found. I am greedy to drink in a freer air than any I have yet breathed. I would companion with the wildest creatures, for they are the most truly alive. In the midst of the death which men call society, I long for the life which throbs in wild places. I would hear no tamer note than the crow's or fish-hawk's cry. I would inhabit a spot never touched by human foot. I think that the delicate bloom of nature is rubbed off by the first man who visits her. Like the huckleberries that come to market, the landscape has lost something delicate and indefinable by the presence of men. I would have 192 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. my nature virgin-pure ; and tlien I would woo her as no lover before ever did. I would see in the landscape something as delicate as the tints of the rainbow. I think that the rainbow would lose something if men could run over it with a balancing-pole. This is all I mean by the fall of Man ; a descent below nature, so that he is not worthy to stand in her presence. ASCENT OF WHTTEFACE. Saturday, July 23. — On Wednesday I climbed White- face mountain. Rowing from my camp to the head of the lake, about four miles, I found the trail without difficulty, and began the ascent about 9.30. The trail leads through a dense forest until within a short distance of the summit. I crossed noisy brooks, on stepping- stones or fallen trees, climbed over, through or under timber that lay across the trail, and on the last half mile of the* trail clambered over bowlders, sometimes pulling myself up by grasping the roots of trees, crossed slippery ledges as steep as the roof of a house, where the soil had slid down leaving the rock bare ; and, after about three hours of climbing, reached the summit, where the mag- nificent view well repaid me for the hard climb. My eye swept over miles of lake and mountain scenery; resting now upon far-off Lake Champlain and the Green Mountains of Vermont, and now upon the mighty St. Lawrence, lying like a silver thread beneath the shining sky away to the northeast; while to the southwest and west my mind was overwhelmed with the splendor of scores of shining lakes and piled-up mountains, robed in the tender beauty of the summer haze. I remained on the summit three or four hours, and made the descent in about two hours, reaching my camp a little before sunset. LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 193 THE LORD'S DAY IK THE WOODS. Sunday, July 24. — The Lord's day, as Christians call it, finds me still in the woods. I am lord of the day, so far as it concerns me, and so I might call it my day ; but as every day in the woods is my day, and none are mort- gaged to society, with danger of bankruptcy and fore- closure, I know not how I shall make this day better than any other, save by a deeper earnestness and a more zealous watchfulness. It is easy to go to church and, returning, say " I have worshiped to-day " ; but to make the day, or any day, holy by greater effort to live purely and sweetly, at peace with all men, this is not so easy. We seek to go to heaven by easy methods, as we do to other fine places. I think I shall worship more truly here in the woods than many who go to church ; but they will be called Christians, while I shall probably soon have the name of Pagan. So much for names, and the cheap way in which they are purchased. LOST. When I was going up W^hiteface trail I came at one point to a great bare ledge of rock, which I crossed, sup- posing that I should find the trail again on the other side. I did not find it, however, but was soon wander- ing in the dense forest, and had a hint of what it would be to be lost there. I returned to the point where I had left the trail, and discovered that it went straight up the ledge, at a right angle, instead of across. Then I fell to meditating on that word "lost." I think the theological use of it is much closer to the real meaning than the common one. A man is not lost when he is merely un- able to say where a certain village lies, or what path he shall take to find it. The village is as much lost as the man, in that case. If he does not know where the vil- lage is, neither does the village know where he is, and 194 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. SO lie is perhaps better off, not worse. Why should we so revolve about a house or a village that we consider our- selves lost as soon as we are out of sight of it ? What is it that Man revolves about? Is it not rather some celestial body, some star of Truth, to which he is related by nature, so that ho is lost only when he has lost sight of that ? I think that a man is lost when he has for- gotten his true nature, that it is divine: and not when he merely cannot tell which way to walk to find a cer- tain house. In this sense, most of us are lost. How we wandered away from the Divine Path, what it was that beguiled and blinded us, we do not know. But we are certainly lost, and no one seems to be able to recover the Way. Many have earnestly sought it, and perhaps some few have found it ; but the guide-boards that point toward it are many and confusing, and do not seem to help us much. I think we need to retrace some steps in order to find the Path. It turns a sharp corner and goes at a right angle to the way most of us are looking and walking. CIVILIZATION TEIED BY SOLTTTJDE. I SIT here in my tent under the shade of great forest trees, the sound of waves washing on the rock coming to my ears like the voice of an old comrade, and I con- template the busy world as from a distant star; the whir and din of busy cities, the scramble and rush for wealth and power, the restless search for happiness by methods that take men daily farther from what they seek ; and I find myself wondering whether this busy civilization can ever be converted into the kingdom of God. We seem far, very far from it now, and appear to be traveling away from instead of toward it on our rail- roads and steamships. The messages we send pulsing over our telegraph wires convey no information as to the character of that higher civilization. We do but the LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 195 more quickly learn of the brutality of man and his selfish barbarism by means of these SAvift couriers. Our newspapers are more zealous to publish the evi- dences of man's savagery than any occasional evidence that he is growing truly civilized. It is worth any degree of privation and hardship to be able to separate oneself from the world and look at it from an unbiased standpoint. I lack the luxuries and even the comforts of the world here in the woods, but I am out of its atmosphere of conventional life, and so am able to esti- mate it much more truly and judge it by the highest criterions. Civilization, tried by the test of solitude, measured by the beauty and sweetness of mountain and lake and forest trees, is found wanting. THE WOELD AS AN INK-POT. I FIND that the intellect works healthfully upon the commonplace facts of every-day life. Our literature is chiefly the result of writing rather than thinking, be- cause it is for the most part only a recombination of writings already existing. I want rather to dig in the earth for my tropes and similes ; to pluck my thoughts like berries from trees and bushes ; to have my page smack of air and sunshine and fresh earth, and reflect sometimes the stars of the sky. When a man uses the world for an ink-pot, dipping his pen into its lakes and rivers, his writing is pure like the fluid he uses. A THREE DAYS' TEAMP. I HAVE just returned from a three days' tramp through Wilmington Notch and the Keene Valley to Ausable Lakes, and back by way of Cascade Lakes to the John Brown farm. I was much amused by the family where I took dinner Monday. The proprietor of the house, a rude shanty by the wayside, was sharpening an axe on a grindstone when I came along, his wife turning the 196 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. handle for him. I have noticed that at most small houses of entertainment the landlord holds the axe and his wife turns the handle of the grindstone. Ragged and dirty children tumbled about the floor and crawled over the furniture, staring at the stranger, whose tripod, with its mysterious box on top, excited much awe as well as curiosity. One little fellow sat saucily on top of the stove in the one room which served as office, sitting and dining room, and parlor. Dinner was prepared speedily, a salt fish being brought from a mysterious dark recess, furtively, as though the guest should not know what he was to eat until it lay before him in all its tempting sweetness. The table was set in the middle of the room, the children having been cleared away for the purpose. I sat alone, in state, and ate my dinner, conversing with the hostess and children. The dinner was a very whole- some one, with plenty of milk and some berries ; and as the house was as open as a pasture, I did not suffer from any strange odors which else might have accumu- lated. The tramp from that place to Upper Jay was very enjoyable, though the sun beat down fiercely upon my head. As I walked along the road over the hills, picking red raspberries, inhaling great draughts of fresh air, and expanding my soul with visions of the lofty mountains and far-stretching valleys, it seemed to me that I should like always to go on in such a way. I would not be a fixed star, but a planet (wanderer), my orbit sweeping the known and unknown universe. There is a fine joy in becoming one with the tireless and rest- less energies of nature. I would fiow Avith the streams, float and fly with the high clouds, sweep over field and mountain with the changing winds, and stop nowhere longer than to take my bearings for fresh expeditions. LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 197 NATURAL FOOD. As I picked and ate the raspberries from the bushes by the roadside it seemed to me that I was more nour- ished by them than by the dinner I had eaten at the cross-roads, or any dinner eaten at a conventional table. The subtle wild life has escaped from nearly all that we eat, and we get nothing but the dead and inert matter that is left when life has fled. It is no marvel that men are so tame and insipid, when they live at such a dis- tance from the wild life of nature. We shut ourselves away from the sky and the air, and take our food at such remoteness from the wild life which produced it, that we are but poorly nourished. I cannot account for the ditter- ent impressions I receive from fruits which grow above ground, in the air and sunshine, and those vegetables which grow underground in the dark; but the impres- sions are very real to me, and I doubt not are indicative of a real and important difference in the articles as food for man I think that a man should obey the faintest hints from the soul, for that way lies a diviner and more beautiful life. We commonly do not listen to the voice of nature in us until the whispered intuition has grown to a tone of thunder, accusing us of our violation ot the inner laws. AUSABLE LAKES AND THE KEENE VALLEY. My tramp through the Keene Valley did not furnish me with the views which I had anticipated. There are many pleasant bits, but nothing that I should go far to see. Ausable Lake offers no great reach of vision, but the mountains around it are imposing. One great out- standing crag is shaped like a man's face, and has been given the name of Indian Face. It poses far above the lake, and gazes steadfastly away into the south, as if ex- 198 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. pecting the return of the races that mhabited this region before the white man came. It is the Sphinx of tliis region, its face stern, impassive, unchanged by the centu- ries with their storms and cahns. While at the lake I visited Ice Cave, a cavity in the mountain side a few feet from the lake shore, where snow and ice are found in midsummer. This is the cave whither old white-haired Hiems retreated when the returning sun-god drove him from the land. The Cave of Winter, I should call it, where you may feel the North-king's icy breath upon your cheek, and see the bed of snow which he has made to sleep upon during the reign of summer. The road from Keene Center to the Cascade Lakes is for the first two miles a steep climb from the valley. The lakes are not especially impressive, though the mountain wall that rises from them is imposing in its grandeur. The lakes are small and narrow, and suggest a quiet stream in a canon. The stage stops here for dinner on the way to Lake Placid, and the passenger pays one dol- lar for his meal. I did not dine there, because I did not think I could get my money's worth. I do not like to sacrifice too much to the god of the belly, albeit he is a very popular deity, and his worship well attended. I consider a dollar too large an offering to make at one time. THE GEAVE OF OLD JOHN BEOWN. The John Brown farm is the mecca of many pilgrims during the summer season. Stage-loads of people come, alight, and run over the place like the locusts of Egypt ; and the good Pharaoh who rules the realm has no power to cast them out. The tombstone is a huge rock, per- haps eight or ten feet high, and fifteen long, with the name John Brown carved in it in great letters. The grave has besides this an ordinary headstone, which did LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 199 duty for the grandfather of the hero of Harper's Ferry, and bears his name in quaint old-fashioned letters. Be- low it is an inscription to old John Brown, and lower still the name of a son who lies by his father's side. A fence has been built around the spot where the grave is, the enclosure being about fifty feet square, and the head- stone is protected by a wooden box, fastened with a pad- lock. When visitors wish to see the stone, the box is removed by the man in charge, who stands watchfully by to see that no corners are chipped from the stone by that fiend of historic places, the relic hunter. The man who has for twenty years lived in this house and exhib- ited the house and grounds to curious visitors is by name Reuben Lawrence, — ''Call it Deacon Reuben Lawrence if you like," he said with a touch of honest pride. Cer- tainly the man who has so long assisted at this altar for hero-worship deserves the title Deacon, even if he never assisted at the holy sacrament. It is indeed a holy office, though the levity of visitors often robs the place of the sentiment it should inspire. The Deacon, as I soon came to call him, answers scores of questions daily, and ex- hibits a patience worthy of a saint. He is a rugged, sturdy specimen of manhood, suggestive of oak and hickory, and looks as though you could not split him with a maul and wedge. The younger generation visit this grave of Old John Brown chiefly because it is mentioned as one of the "attractions" of the region, and do not feel the reverence that must stir the heart of those who know the remark- able career of the old hero. As I stand beside the grave, my heart beats fast with adoration. That grim form rises before me, and with it I see millions more, — the souls of black slaves, for whom he died. I see the gal- lows, which his death made sacred as the cross. I hear the cries of hatred in the south, and the words of com- mendation in the north. But this "fanatic" was wiser 200 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. than he knew, wiser than his generation knew. Such men bear the torch of progress, and light the path for the feet of their more timid fellows. And now his dust sleeps in this quiet spot, beside the huge rock where in life he used to sit and read his Bible, — read those words of condemnation of wrong and oppression, which strength- ened his great soul for its heroic task. All honor to Old John Brown, martyr-hero of a sacred cause ; and may his soul march on forever, while freedom needs defenders, or oppression needs rebuke. THE GAME QUESTIOlSr. The old residents of the Adirondack country are much exercised over the purchase of large tracks by wealthy individuals, and the posting thereon of notices forbidding hunting. It may be a fair question to ask whether a man acquires a title to wild game by the purchase of the land where it is found. So long as the practice of kill- ing wild animals continues, perhaps all should have an equal chance. But I think there is a growing number of people who hope for the time when the hunting of wild animals for sport shall entirely cease. Progress in civili- zation should be and probably is accompanied by a regard for the life and happiness of every kind of creature. I fear that for the most part we are still savages, though dressed in finer fur and feathers than our distant kin. Our instincts are mostly brutal, and we love the sight of blood. We are cannibals, eating the flesh of our fellow- creatures. Even the South Sea Islanders do not eat their own brothers and sisters, so I do not see that we are any better than they merely because we do not. The world is still possessed by the savage. It is not yet the poet's world, tire lover's world, and is not like to be for many centuries to come. But I would plead for higher uses of the world than to convert it into a Roman amphitheater. LEAVES FKOM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 201 RACING WITH THE HOURS. I AM still without a timepiece, though I know when it is midday by two stakes which I drove into the ground so that their shadows coincide at noontide. Perhaps this much of a chronometer is useful, to remind us that the day is half gone, and that we should take care to make the latter half of the race the best. Coming down the home stretch of the day we should run our best, that we may not lose the whole race. What competitors we have to run with ! Folly, sloth, indifference, and many others run with us, and we must exert ourselves strenu- ously, if we would leave them all behind, and be able to say at the day's end, " I have run the race." There is but one aim in running the race, and that is, to win it. All training, all equipment, all preparation, should be to that single end. It is not to show our fine paces, nor our fine harness, that we should run ; but to reach the goal in due season. If I can run each day's course well, and receive at the close the victor's wreath, I care not much what my harness is, nor what my pace is. THOUGHTS OF IDEAL LIFE. Sunday morning, July 31. — This Sunday is not a sun- day, but a rain-day, sacred therefore to Jupiter Pluvius. I have built a camp-fire in front of my tent, and its crackling is sweet music to my ears. Its smoke ascends as incense from my altar, and I worship, as becomes the Lord's day, or any day, here in the woods. I shall have a dinner of trout and stewed potatoes, with milk, — such a simple meal as befits this simple life. I think it is the complexity and variety of our life that makes us desire so much variety in dress and diet. We live superficially, glancing rapidly from this to that, and do not get the whole of anything we touch. We think we have nothing to eat unless we have a dozen dishes, and nothing to wear unless we possess a score or more of garments. I think 202 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. if we should live more earnestly, we should find less variety sufficient, both in food and raiment; or rather, we should have the same variety by a new discovery in the old. We are as prodigal of time as of other possessions, and do not get the most out of every moment, as we ought to do. I think none of us realize how sacred every moment should be. Life is so short, and the possibilities to an earnest and zealous man are so great, that I am jealous of every minute frivolously employed. It is a serious thing to be alive, in this wondrous universe, with its starlights gleaming overhead out of the Infinite, its seas and mountains appealing to the heights and depths of the soul. God did not make the world in vain. It is not for sport, merely, that we are here, but for some mighty end whose meaning does but faintly gleam on us in our moments of inspiration. I would have the stars shine on every deed, relating it to them, in their beauty and im- mensity. I would do no act which may not be viewed with the stars, without seeming trivial or cheap. AVhen a man loses sight of the universe in which he lives, and thinks of himself as the inhabitant of some house or vil- lage merely, he degrades his life, and bounds it by a nar- row horizon. We should look out at all times upon Immensity, and see that our life is related thereto; that stars shine over us for a purpose ; that planets revolve in their orbits with a direct reference to our life. Here is this smoke ascending from my camp-fire, in a delicate column, as if hastening back to the sun, whence it came. Shall not I also aspire heavenward, whence I had my being ? The trees are all growing heavenward, but man is dwarfed and stunted and contorted until he scarcely suggests the divine beauty that should be his. My dream of a perfect life for man is not born of any man I have ever seen. It is born of the Spirit, Avhispered in my ear in dream-hours, when the soul communes with her Uni- LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 203 versal Self and receives deep revelations therefrom. I would reveal the True Man, the Divine Man, which, per- ceived, makes himself manifest, — the Word become flesh. I love the woods better than the village because there I am surrounded with the pure thought of God, made manifest in the trees and plants. From them I catch the keynote of those universal harmonies to which man's soul should be attuned. In the village I seldom hear that keynote, but rather a din of discords, the false opinions and uttered delusions of men. I go to the woods as to a purer world, a primitive Eden-world, where I may think of man as not fallen, but a child of God, divine by nature, made in God's own image. And when I con- ceive man so, I perceive how such a creature should live. I see the laws that should enchant him, and make his life beautiful and sweet. A RUSTIC LODGE. Aug. 12. — I have broken camp at Lake Placid, and have for a week past been building a lodge on the John Brown farm. It is located on a hilltop at some distance from the farm-house, and commands a magnificent moun- tain view. This lodge is quite an achievement for an amateur carpenter. It is ten feet square, and the ridge- pole is about nine feet from the ground. It is built of slabs with the bark on, and roofed with spruce bark, peeled' in large slices from the trees. Deacon Lawrence sent his team to the saw-mill to haul the slabs, and I employed a man one day to help me peel bark and cut poles. The work of building I did alone, using a saw, hammer, square, pocket-knife, and an axe. The interior of the lodge is lined with birch and poplar bark, making a very handsome effect. I built a bed with huge birch posts, and filled it with balsam boughs, putting a small tick filled with straw on the top. For years I have longed to live as I am living now, in a house of my own con- 204 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. struction, with nature for study and society. When I contemplate a return to civilization and a conventional life my heart sinks within me, and it seems like a delib- erate abandonment of my better genius. MORN^G IN THE MOUNTAINS. My life here is daily filled with joy and exultation. In the morning I am awake before sunrise, to greet Aurora as she " rises from her saffron couch to sprinkle the world with new light," as Virgil says. The spectacle of daybreak is more sublime and beautiful than words can hint. First the eastern sky above the mountains glows with a delicate light. The silence of night is broken by the song of birds. Athwart the purpling sky a pair of crows wing their heavy flight, calling lustily on the world to waken and worship the goddess Dawn. The clouds that hang like banners in the sky are touched to a golden and then a silvern glow. The mountains be- gin to emerge grandly from the veiling mists of night. Around them still clings the drapery of the clouds, but it is melting into light. In the valleys the fog lies in great sheets, like lakes, just tinted by the dawning light. The forests are still in shadow, but clothed in the illusion of the morning mist. The earth seems like a great blos- som, just vmfolding its delicate tinted petals, and the fragrance of the new-born day is like celestial incense ; or, she is a goddess, who has just bathed in the cool night-shadows ; and now, with rosy cheeks and clinging drapery of fire-touched clouds, she emerges to another day. How can a man live a single day with less than divine aims and impulses, when each day is so divinely ushered in ? Nature gives us the day pure and sweet, arrayed in celestial garments. We defile it with our coarse aims, and drag its garments in the dust. But nature is never discouraged. She cleanses the day in floods of darkness, and restores it to us pure and sweet. LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 205 How long, how long before we shall worthily use the beautiful day that nature gives us ? CAMP-FIRE DREAMS. At night I usually build a camp-fire in front of my lodge, and lie in my hammock watching the flames leap and dance and the smoke curl and float. I dream fair dreams of life, and plan how I shall contribute something to make this society of ours on earth more like the king- dom of heaven. The flames burn away all the dross of this earthly life, and I see it j^u^rified, made holy by love and truth, a very society of gods. That fire is my altar- flame, where I worship the Ideal in life. Its smoke rises like an holy incense, accompanied by my own aspirations, and in the changing flames I see visions of a regener- ate humanity, united by love, dwelling in peace together. If I could write what I see in my altar-fire, there should be a Book of Man, picturing his divine estate ; a world at peace with itself, where men have become gods, know- ing not pain or death. But my camp-fire dies out, and the bright visions fade. The world is shrouded in night, but the stars peep down, to admonish me that there is still light in the heavens, though the earth be dark. I betake myself to sleep, in the faith that when I awake it will be glorious day. Yes, I know that men shall not forever walk in darkness. The Sons of Light come forth out of the east of prophetic vision, and raise their heroic voices to cheer their despondent fellows. Watch and pray, brothers, watch and pray, and the morning shall surely come. RAINY DAY REVERIES. Aug. 25. — This morning when I awoke the ram was falling fast, and the mountains were obscured. The patter of the rain on my roof was, however, sweet music to me, and I lay for a long time on my rude bed and 206 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. chanted lines from Homer and Virgil, companioning with those far-off spirits as kindred souls who loved nature before that sentiment was made cheap and common by artificial scribblers. I am writing this morning with an old trunk-lid for a desk, covered with birch bark. I sit in my hammock before my camp-stove, holding the lid in my lap. The fire roars lustily, and makes a fine accompaniment to the patter of the rain on my roof and the music of the wind whirling about my lodge. Occasionally a gust of wind whirls the raindrops into the open front of the lodge, and they hiss and dance as they strike upon the top of the stove. Prankie, the small boy of the family at the farm-house, has just brought me a pail of milk, with an invitation to take dinner at the house. I perceive through him a certain solicitude on the part of the family in my behalf, lest I should not be comfortable in my open lodge this cold stormy day : but I would not exchange quarters with a prince this morning. I am closer to my Genius on stormy days, when I am shut up in my lodge, with only my thoughts for company. We commonly dissipate ourselves with a multitude of affairs, each of which ab- sorbs a portion of our strength, and we do not quite know what sort of company we should be for ourselves because we have so little time for self -acquaintance. I find that I grow in interest to myself by continued study and acquaintance. I sometimes hastily depreciate myself, and think any sort of oblivion better than companionship with such a fellow ; but when I am shut up with myself, and compelled to take myself for better or for worse for the space of half a day, I find unsuspected beauty in the play of my mind. The nimble phenomena of thought are of deeper interest than we commonly su^^pose, and perhaps offer the newest and most profitable field of study. LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 207 TABLE TALK AND TABLE FAEE. Aug. 27. — This morning is cold and rainy, but I open my windows to the light of the spiritual sun and my abode is illumined and made glad. I have been to the woods for my breakfast of red raspberries, which grow here in great profusion, large and sweet. I breakfasted with a squirrel, whose shrill chatter meant much more to me than breakfast discourse usually means. Our table talk is commonly as cheap and poor as our table fare ; as tame and insipid, and as profitless for real nutrition. But this squirrePs chatter meant life; free, wild, sweet, and beautiful. It discoursed of sweet morning airs, of the delicate beauty of day -break skies, of dewy flowers, and fresh, new-born beauties of the day. If our life were attuned to the keynote of my squirrel's chatter, how vital and free it should be ! I go to the woods not because I wish to live or have my brothers live a wild and barbarous life ; but to learn the principles and laws of natural liv- ing, that they may be applied to our social state for its redemption. I would not renounce society but to redeem it. My renunciations are always in the interests of more society, not less. As the singer listens for the chord which sets the key for his performance, so do I in the woods listen for the keynote of that divine life which society ought to live. Hearing it, I will go forth to sing the chant of the divine life, the life in harmony with nature. DECORATIONS OF NATUEE. This little lodge of mine seems a very shrine, haunted by all the graces. It is saturated Avith the purest and best in nature. The morning light bathes it in a deli- cate beauty, as the great sun throws out his heralding banners of light-kissed clouds. The glow of morning paints it with a color that makes cheap and common all 208 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. pigments of lead and oil. When Aurora, rising from lier couch of night, steps forth radiant in robes of light, she throws the sheen of her mantle over the hillsides and over my humble lodge, and no temple of the sun was ever more beautiful. If we would but employ nature to deco- rate our walls and ceilings, what dwellings we should have! THE INNEE VOICE. Every soul needs solitude for its highest development. My sweetest hours are not those spent with the friends whom I love, but with the Genius of Solitude. When I sit alone, with my soul bathed in the Divine Light, there is companionship and joy which society knows not of. These are my birth hours, when I am born into new modes of life and thought. Then society seems degradation; books seem profane screens, hiding God from me; the voices of men, however lofty, seem but echoes of that Voice which is speaking to me. There is but one source of Truth, and that is, communion with the Divine Mind. All sacred books, all oracles, all prophetic revelations, are records and expressions of that. The highest use of any revelation is to send us home to the Eevealer. The prophet fails if he but succeeds in making men listen to his voice. Unless he lead men to God, he is not divine. In these hours of illumination we are made aware of our own nature, that it is divine. We abstract ourselves from the illusions of the world, and stand face to face with Eeality. We perceive that Man is God; that into the human soul are organized the laws of Perfection, waiting only for recognition to be made manifest. We know then that the Soul is All-Perfect ; that it proceeds out of the All-Perfect, Divine Life. A new dignity clothes our life, a new force begins to play in us, and we are reformed, remade, reborn in the divine image. Love habits in that high atmosphere, and we are one with it when we rise thereto. LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 209 The work for each one of us is to make this perception a practical force in life. Mathematics does not serve the highest use until it is applied to affairs. When Geometry serves Justice, enabling men to measure according to right, it is divine. The sciences underlie every inven- tion that has made the condition of man better in this world; and therein do they find their divinest uses. So let our philosophy regulate our daily conduct. Let us make our market-place a holy temple, dedicated to the service of mankind. Let trade be carried on in love and benevolence, and it becomes philanthropy, the very work of religion. Heaven cannot come to us, nor can we go to it; we must create it within ourselves and within our environment, by the application of Divine Truth to thoughts and acts. CHAEACTEE-BUILDING. The simplest affairs of life are right objects for the application of the highest philosophy. The real use of truth is to serve man; wherever he may be placed, in whatsoever he may be engaged. It is not actions, but the qualities of actions, that determine character. Whether I wield a scepter or hoe, I should wield it only after the divine laws. Thus, the one act is as great as the other. It matters not what I do, but how I do it; not where I live, but hoAv I live ; not what end I achieve, but by what means I achieve it. We live in the midst of illusions. ISTo act is what it seems to be. Every supposed end is in reality a means, — to what end we may not know. The popular idea of greatness is a delusion. It is not how men see us, but how we see ourselves ; not what critics or historians say, but what verdict our own soul renders, that should be our highest criterion. We imagine that our virtue is of no account if it be not made public. But there is no secret virtue. Though the critics may not discover it, though our neighbors even may not sus- 210 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. pect it, any virtue in us does go out in radiant streams to affect the very stars. When I lift my hand, yonder star trembles in its orbit. Who knows the influence of a single thought ? Immensity responds to the motions of the human soul. There is no tracing the course of thought. I cannot hide myself so but that the very stars shall know my presence. We are deluded with the idea that some public station, such as a pulpit, rostrum, editor's or teacher's desk, forum or legislative hall, is the necessary channel for public influence. But not so. The soul itself is the real arena for all our contests. Our relations to the universe were established from eternity. We need not look to them. But let us look to our own life, that it be lived according to the divine laws. We should never, even for one instant, consider the effect of our act upon another person, or upon his opinions ; but only of its relation to divine truth. If I speak truth, the truth will justify itself, else it cannot be justified. If I enact justice, I need not apologize nor explain. I have Omnipotence to support me. I would have my brethren love truth and virtue. But how shall I make them love these save through my daily relations to themselves? It cannot be conveyed orally. It must be observed in con- duct, to be apprehended. I need not the strength to teach, but the strength to be. So high is being above speaking, that mere words are unintelligible babble. Character speaks ; but the tongue alone, never. MORNING VOICES. Aug. 28. — I am writing this morning before my lodge, worshiping, like an eastern devotee, between three fires; my camp-stove on the left, on which my breakfast is cooking; on the right, my camp-fire, the vestal fire of this new temple to Nature, attended with all sanctity; and in front of me the great Sun-fire, just rising over the misty mountains, to flood the earth with light and beauty. LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 211 In the valleys the fog lies like placid lakes, just tinted by the rising sun. From the farmyard below come mnsical sounds, the tinkle of cow-bells, the oracular quacking of ducks, and the voices of men. The woods behind my lodge resound with the voices of nature, always pure and sweet; the cry of the bluejay, the chuckle of squirrels, the vigorous cawing of crows, with an occasional bleat from some sheep in the pasture beyond, indicating the presence of a domestic life in these wild places. GOD IN NATUEE. How degraded is that civilization which benumbs and paralyzes all the finer instincts of man ! We are pagans, — nay, not pagans, for they worship, though not after our fashion. We have so cut ourselves off from nature that the world is a secular place, no Divine Presence shining through it. We worship only in the church, if even there. We hear no word of God save that which is read to us out of Holy Writ. The voices of nature do not speak to us of an Indwelling Presence, whose Life is the soul of all that is ; whose Being is revealed in every blade of grass, every plant, every tree, every creature that moves in the sea or the air or upon the earth. We can have no religion but one of tradition until we perceive that God forever reveals himself in nature and in the human soul. SPIRITUAL LAWS. Our faith in spiritual laws is continually being tainted by fear. We have been so educated to regard material conditions that we do not quite dare to trust the soul for all. We think we must palter and bargain, and see that our contracts are secure, else we shall somehow be cheated. But the laws of the soul enact strict and inevitable justice. Let a man cast his lot with them and he is secure. It is because we expect material rewards exclusively that we 212 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. have so little faith. If meat and drink are all, let us make our criterions accordingly. But if there is justice, love, purity, beauty, loyalty, in the soul, let us consider these. Let us make our estimate of man large enough, and we shall not miss the true criterion. THE EEAL PAGANS. We call those pagans who worship the sun as a god. We send missionaries to them, to convert them to our true faith. But we are the pagans, who do not worship anything, unless it be gods of gold and silver. It is not our faith, but our lack of faith, that makes us such Christians as we are. Most glorious orb! Eefulgent king ! Who can look upon thy face and live ? Let me chant those words of David, pagan that he was, who worshiped this god of morning : " Lift up your heads, ye gates, and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of Glory shall come in." " Who is this King of Glory ? " Who but this Lord of Hosts, this Day-god, who, through the everlasting doors of morning, makes his victorious entrance, driving before him the hosts of darkness! Shine, great Orb, flooding the spaces with thy light and warmth ! Thou, releaser of bound life ; thou, breaker of winter-chains ; thou, saviour to the whole earth; come forth out of the sepulcher-gates of night-death, glorious in thy resurrection robes, and show thyself to men ! SOUL-YOICES. THE SOUL OF THE POET. The poet is wild, He is nature's free child, And his spirit is free as the wild winds that rove, That waken the echoes in cave, glen, and grove. O the Spirit is free ! It descendeth on me Like a torrent of fire. And beckoneth higher And still higher and higher, And the notes of my lyre Chime out my desire To mount to the skies on the pinions of song : And the stars look amazed. And the fair moon is dazed, And the spirits of waters and winds are all crazed By the seething infection they catch from my soul ; And the winds as they blow. And the brooks as they flow, And the rivers that on to the great ocean go, And the tides as they roll. Are the types of my soul ; And their voices unite In the strength of their might To chant forth the moods of my soul, of my soul. O the poet's a wild soul, and free as the winds 5 213 214 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. His numbers are fleet as the swiftest of hinds ; And forth on the pinions of song he will ride Like the billow that rolls on the crest of the tide ; And the wild sea-birds in their flight lag behind, And the winds cannot catch him, so swift will he ride ; And the words of his song more swiftly will glide Than torrent descending the steep mountain side. O the soul of the poet is a whirlwind of thought, A tempest of feeling that is never outwrought ; For the dreams that he dreams And the visions he sees, More vast than the spaces, More wild than the seas, More strange than Sphinx-faces, Passing swift as the breeze. More fair than the stars That sing out of the sky, — As distant as they, and yet as nigh, — O these in his soul seethe and tumble and roll, And they never come forth from the depths of his soul. So the poet is wild, He is nature's free child. And within him are pent Pires of feeling ne'er spent ; And from out of his soul Fiery thought-planets roll ; And within him are born. In his creation morn, Worlds that evermore roll From the depths of his soul ; Worlds peopled with fancies. With wildest romances. With tales of hot love. With spirits that rove Through the blue air above, With demons of darkness, SOUL-VOICES. 215 With, imps of despair, That throughout these worlds wander And rove everywhere. THE CUP OF LOVE. O Love, that sweep' st the heartstrings o'er Like the wind that singeth along the shore Of the wild and restless sea ! Thou bearest joy and pain with thee ; Thou art mixed in the urns of the gods above — Bitter and sweet, hatred and love, Joy and woe and smiles and tears. Are the mixtures poured from the urn of years. Angels and men must drink the cup, For the heart will love and the soul will cry, And we live not until we know the taste Of this bitter-sweet draught that is mixed on high. Then drink, soul, of this mixture rare, That is mingled in that upper air ; Bitter-sweet, ecstatic pain, Joy that is turned to grief again. Grief that is gilded round with joy, A cup of gold and base alloy. Dark and bright its contents are. Sparkling over their bitter dregs; Sweet as honey and bitter as gall. The taste of this mixture rare. And yet the mighty gods are kind. And love full well their sons below. They send this draught as a cup of life, Which can deepest wisdom on us bestow. Who drinketh not this cup of love Hath never tasted life at all ; For life is death when love is not, And sweetest nectar is but gall. Then love, heart, as true hearts may ! 216 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. Let nothing thy sweet faith dismay ; Take to thyself this falsehood sweet, That thou in another thy love canst meet ; That in those eyes, so dark and fair, Thou canst find that treasure rare Which ever thou hast sought in vain, And in that form canst clasp again The angel that escaped thee when Thou left thy native haunts above And journeyed to this world of men. Take to thy heart this fancy fair. This image with the nut-brown hair, Those laughing eyes, that melting mouth, With breath like breezes from the South, Where flowers perfume all the air. And make it fragrant everywhere. Take to thy heart that graceful form. And heed not in the rose the worm. For Beauty's charm is never marred, And Grace's feature never scarred, By whatsoever may befall When love's illusion covers all. Thou canst not wiser act, believe, Than to accept what must deceive ; For by our trust we wiser grow. And from the good the evil know ; And Love, that arch illusionist. Hath lessons rare to teach the soul. Which never can be learned by him Who doth not grasp the bitter whole. By faith in falsehood learn we truth, By loving sin we virtue gain, By following the dancing light We firmer ground and faith attain. So love illusion whilst thou may. And learn by her fair wisdom's way ; SOUL-VOICES. 217 Follow the bog-light till the Star Appears above thy path afar ; And when thou seest the Perfect Light, Away will fade the forms of night, And Virtue's self and Love's own face Thou shalt discover, by God's grace. TO A TEEE. Speak to me, brother, so sturdily rooted In the cold soil, upholding thy arms to the sky ; Tell me the secret of living, my brother, The secret of living, the whence and the why. By one common soil our being is nourished. One sun warms our limbs, one air folds us round ; Toward the sky we are reaching, with hearts ever yearn- ing, While our roots hold us fast to the dark, moldy ground. You are beat on by tempests, and buffeted daily By the forces of nature that beat on my soul; You do not complain, but stand sturdy, defiant, While the years over you and me fleetly do roll. You see the fleet changes of autumn and springtime, Your leaves fall and die, as die hopes of the heart ; But the springtime doth clothe you again in your beauty ; Is there springtime for me ? is the cry of my heart. Brother tree, grimly standing, so silent and solemn, Will you not speak one word to my listening ear? Will you not give one hint of this life's mystic meaning ? Whence come we ? Where go we ? And why are we here ? THE SEA AND THE SOUL. FOR a home by the wild, wild sea. Where the cry of the sea-bird, wild and free, Cometh on every breeze to me ! Where winds and waves wild music make ; 218 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. Where the spray flies high and the mad waves break Where the crags fling back the echoes free, And every sound is a joy to me ! Oh, the winds blow wild by the broad sea-shore, And the tide comes in with a maddened roar, And all is music, wild and sweet, That day or night my ears doth greet. The sea is mine, and I am hers ; We were born of the same great universe ; Through both the same wild currents sweep. Through both the same wild music flows, And sun and storm glad measure keep : We both have depths of mystery, And hidden caves with treasures strewn ; We both transcend all history. And pass the portals of the known. In me the waves of ocean find Their restless, heaving counterpart, In motions of my restless mind. In surgings of my throbbing heart ; Wild voices cry above my soul. As o'er the ocean's heaving breast, And through my inner chambers roll The billows that shall never rest. I am another heaving sea, And picture vast eternity ; The stars are mirrored in my breast, And never do my waves find rest. I wash the farthest shores of Thought ; By me strange miracles are wrought ; I follow Avith obedient tide The Moon that doth in heaven ride. JOY OF MY LOVE. Joy of the morning, joy of the noon, Joy of the twilight and evening still ; SOUL-VOICES. 219 Whicli is the best joy of all these three ? The joy that bringeth my love to me. Pale is the morning, leaden the noon, Dark and gloomy the twilight sky In which my love's light doth not shine To gladden my eager eye. My love is morning and noon and night, The glow of the east and the x^omp of day ; My love is the blush of the sunset sky, And the light of the stars in the Milky Way. Morning and noon and night are one When the love that lights them is dead and gone. GOD IS OYER ALL. The mellow moonlight bathes the world. And God is over all. Down through the tree-tops gleam the stars. And God is over all. The world lies draped in a mantle white. And all things glow with a soft, pure light, And God is over all. Softly the town bell chimes the hour, Its mellow tones float from the tower Out o'er the sleeping world. And God is over all. Silence, like death, lies on the town. Out of the sky the moon looks down, Cold and chaste, without a frown. And God is over all. Sparkles the snow upon the ground, The trees in white robes stand around, Silent and ghostly, with upheld arms, And God is over all. Sleep, my soul, in the silent night. Dream thy dreams of a future bright ; See, through the dark, the dawning light. For God is o- er all. 220 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. THE SONG OF THE SIRENS.^ Sirens, singing beside the ocean, Your fatal song cannot harm me now : I have heard Orpheus, divinest singer, Charming me from all songs below. I will not lash myself to the mast-head. Listening, bound, to your charming song : I boldly look in your beautiful faces, — I listen unmoved, and pass along ; For I have heard a diviner singer. Singing to me a higher song. Never again your song can charm me. Never again my soul can wrong. Singer divine, of Truth's best music, Chant to my soul your high refrains : My ears shall be deaf to earth's best music. And listen alone for your high strains. That is the music the stars of morning Sang together so long ago : I know those strains, I sang them also, Their sweetest cadence my soul doth know. That is the music that rolls through heaven : God himself is its undertone ; His life is music, sounding sweetly To ears that listen to Him alone. Sing, then, Orpheus, god-like singer. Teach the Sirens themselves thy song; Save them from their own destruction, Eaise them into the heavenly throng. 1 The hero Ulysses, when sailing by the strand on which the Sirens were singing their fatal songs, stuffed the ears of his companions with wax, and tied himself to the mast, that they miglit not be lured to destruction by the music. Later, when the ships of the Argonauts sailed by these same sweet singers, the crews were safe from the charm of their fatal music, because they had with them Orpheus, whose music out-charmed that of the Sirens. SOUL-VOICES. 221 THE NAME OE MY HEART-QUEEN. Queen of my heart-kingdom, enthroned in my soul-em- pire, Ruling my being with love's sweet power. What shall I call thee, dear, what name is fit for thee. Thee, whom Avith all my life's riches I dower ? Elowers have names, my love, stars are endowed with them, Rainbows and sunsets are called by a name. All beauteous things in the earth, sea, and heavens, Have a sign and a symbol in the language of men ; But thou, oh my sweet, fair love, cannot be named by words : No sound that's uttered by angels above Is fit for my Heart-queen, my fair little Heart-queen, Who rules o'er my being with the scepter of love. The silence shall name thee, the beautiful silence. Out of which flow the forms that adorn the fair earth ; The silence that holds in solution all beauty. Out of whose mighty womb all things have their birth. And the silence, the silence, in musical accents. Pronounces a word that no murmuring tongue Of mortal, though gifted with the speech of Apollo, Has ever yet whispered or uttered or sung. Its sound is like music the brook makes in springtime, When its waters are singing on their way to the sea ; Or like the soft warble of robins, nest-building. Or the song of the wind in the boughs of a tree. It catches the music of waves on the sea-shore, When the lyre of the sands is swept by the tide ; Its accents are mingled with rose-lipped shells' echoes, And the voices of sea-nymphs with its sound are allied. Nor the speech of the fairies, nor the language of angels Who chant their glad songs in the heavens above. Has a sound like that name Avhich the silence pronounces. The name of my Heart-queen, who rules me with love. 222 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. THE IDEAL LOVE. What is the symbol of love — That love which is greater than symbol ? Maiden so i^ure and sweet, That makest my heart-strings to tremble, Thou art but sign and a hint Of that which is signified never; Thou but the fleeting illusion Of that which eludeth me ever. Love, sweet and pure, of the spirit, Harmony waked on the soul-harp By breath from some airy vastness, Thou dost all world-things inherit; Thou art the soul's own possession, Born in the deeps of the spirit. Signs and dark hints thou hast many, But thyself ever dost hide ; Seen of no mortal, touched never. Thou art the spirit's own bride. Dwellest thou deep in each bosom. In chamber of thought pure and sweet, Coniest thou forth to day never, Shy of the world's dust and heat. LOVE'S PLAINT. O LOVE that cries out for its object ! Like the wail of the night wind, the moan Of the swift-breaking waves on the sea-shore, Doth the heart utter plaint for its own. Like the voice of the whippoorwill, crying In the silence and darkness alone, Like the sounds that the night wind bears onward Erom marsh and from meadow below, So the plaint of my sad heart doth go. So the tides of my lonely heart flow. So the soul that is in me makes moan. SOUL-VOICES. 223 THE WEECK OF THE " THUNDERBOLT » Wild was the wind when morning broke, And the wail of the wires wildly rose Like the music of an untuned harp When over the strings the north wind blows. Round and over the chimney tops The skurrying snowflakes madly whirled, And down from the sky, which was full of snow, The frost-flowers fell on the outspread world. Off to the west a rumbling sound, A whistle's shriek and a clang of bell; And men at the station, looking out. Said " Number eight is doing well ! " A roar and a rush, and past them whirled The " Thunderbolt," three hours late ; But none of the men at the station there Knew the decree of eternal Fate. « We're making time : shove in the coal," The engineer to the fireman said ; And out of the cab, with an eagle's eye. He watched the storm-swept track ahead. The storm-fiend with his freezing breath And roaring wings around them whirled. Beating in vain the rushing train . Disputing his sov'reignty of the world. "I'll have them yet ! " the monster cried ; " My wings I'll flap above their grave. With a shroud of snow I'll wrap them so Their burial-places none shall know ; I am still a cunning knave ! " 224 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. A tender thought of wife and child Softened the face of the engineer, And down his cheek, in a sooty streak, Trickled a something like a tear. But eyes that are watching the stormy track May not be dimmed by thoughts of love ; And he drew his rough hand 'cross his face With an upward thought to the God above. What's that ! A spot on the track ahead ! A moment's gleam of rushing steam, A sound of bell like a funeral knell, A burst of smoke through the snow-storm broke- O God of the living and the dead ! A crash like the stroke of planets ! A wreck like a shattered world ! And chaos there in the wintry air — O souls to their Maker hurled ! Ah ! there was dire destruction, And death was busy there. And groan and cry were swept on high By the dragons of the air. Two engines locked together, Like Titans huge upreared, And rushing steam with horrid scream Through driving snow appeared. And, mingled with the ruins, The mangled forms of men, Whose hearts had beat with love-thoughts sweet. Their wives and children soon to meet, But now to meet — Ah ! when ? SOUL-VOICES. 225 Some one had been forgetful ; Some one the agent been Of that great Fate that, small and great, Eules o'er the lives of men. ■ Some one had been forgetful ; But men are only means Whereby the great Soul ruleth all, The cot or kingdom, great or small, And ruleth for the good of all, But from behind earth's scenes. I HAD A FEIEND. I HAD a friend, a noble friend, Who to my life did beauty lend ; Who like a flower beside my way Perfumed the air, and made all fair, Blossoming so sweetly there ; Charming away all dark despair, Illuming with celestial ray The darkest clouds of grief and care. Alas, for mortal joys below ! They slowly come, but quickly go. Like flitting shadoAv o'er the lea. Like billow on the crested sea. They come, and go, and pass from me. Swiftly, swiftly do they glide, Like the rushing of the tide, — Joys that were to heaven allied. And my friend, so dear to me, Fled, like wild bird o'er the sea, Never to come back to me. — Never, did I say, soul ? As the tides do circling roll Comes again to every heart What is of its life a part. 226 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. It may sink, like evening star, Out of sight, but still afar Shines it on some other shore ; And when round the old earth turns, There again my bright star burns, And again I shall adore. Sweetly doth the north star shine. Steady in its lonely place, But sweeter is the changing face Of the fair moon, orb divine. Comes and goes the queen of night, With celestial beauty bright. Changing feature gives her grace No star has in fixed place. Frowns but make her face the sweeter, Hiding makes her charms completer. Bird that fled shall yet return ; Star that sank again shall burn ; And the joy that swiftly fled Shall rise again, as from the dead. Friend that seemed so lost to me, By my side again shall be. Once again shall joy return. Once again the hope-star burn, And my life shall brighter be For the friend once lost to me. But again returned to me, Mine for all eternity. THOU DREAMER. THOU dreumer, thou dreamer, thou dreamer of dreams. What seems to be is not, what is not seems. Thou art the seer of that which Is ; Thine eye looketh through pretenses ; Forms that seem fair are foul to thee, Forms that are plain are fair to thee- SOUL-VOICES. 227 Tliou the Spirit in all dost see, The Spirit that hath reality. Forms that are fleeting befool thee not ; Thou art wiser than any wot. ]!^ot for thee are the masks of Time, Not for thee are the shows sublime ; Thou knowest That which is greater than all That ever in Time or Space can befall. THOEN AND TENDRIL. O God of the rose and bramble, O Lord of the plants that twine, Thou givest the thorn to the rose-bush, And tendrils unto the vine. Thou knowest what each needeth, To live its humble life ; Thou fittest the one for clinging. The other thou arm'st for strife. Peace for the humble ivy, And the quiet of mossy towers; But strife for the rose and bramble, And war with their fellow-flowers. Thou who madest all things, Gave each its place to be ; And its life is lived most truly When lived most true to thee. All live in thy great circle. All in thy being meet ; And great and small are needed To make the Whole complete. 228 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. LOVE'S SUEETY. If thou wert glad in loving one Who for thy love returned thee none, 'Twas not his love that made thee glad, Nor lack of it can make tliee sad. Know thou that love The heart doth move From source within j And henceforth prove All mourning vain-, Rejoice again In what thou hast ; Eor, first and last^ All joy and pain Are born within. Wliat need hath love Of recompense ? The highest sense Is this to prove ; — That loving, we possess the loved ; What we possess we cannot lose, What now is ours, no one refuse. That which is loved Is that which loves ; No spirit roves In search of good It findeth not ; For Love loves Love, And Love is his Whom Love doth move. Whose heart can prove This saying true Knows all mysteries, Old and new. SOUL-VOICES. 229 MEETING AND A PAKTE^G.^ A SHINING and a meeting, A blending and a greeting, A handclasp and a tender kiss, O inexpressibly sweet bliss — And Jupiter from Venus parts, Leaving her weeping, Her lonely watch keeping, By the western sunset gate. A smile and tender greeting, A handclasp and a meeting Of lips that thrill with love Like that of gods above ; Her soul and mine are blended In a love, ah ! too soon ended ; Eor as two stars, commanded By Power they know not, blended A moment, draw apart, So my poor heart Is torn from hers. Universe Of stars and souls ! What meetings and what partings ; What blended lights and lives ; What shattered stars and hearts ; No star that shines but strives To meet some other star, And join in mighty blending ; No heart that beats but yearns To find a love unending. But stars and hearts may greet. May seem to blend and meet. And still between them lie Space and eternity. 1 Conjuuction of Jupiter and Venus, 1892. 230 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. TO THE NEW MOON. Sweet moon, so softly shining There in the western sky, Clothed in a robe of misty light, Floating there on high, Attended by a chaste, bright star, Thou reignest o'er my soul ; As the ocean tides do follow thee, So follows thee my soul. Thy beauty is my soul's own love ; No earthly bride like thee ; No form so fair, in earth's dense air. My longing eye can see. My heart shall love thee, twilight queen, My soul shall glow, as with thy sheen ; Thy purity and sweetness fair Shall come from out that light-filled air, And dwell with me, with me. Shine on, symbol of my soul, Keflecting light from hidden sun ; ^ Thou showest earth a radiance pure, Caught from a Mighty, Shining One. My soul shall love thee, symbol bright, Adorning heaven with thy light ; My soul shall catch thy radiance fair, And seek, with thee, that upper air. LOVE'S MIRACLE. Two hearts loved truly, side by side had lain. And beat in unison with love's sweet strain, But still were two. One careless moment each the other hurt With unkind thought. Eemorse did aggravate the wounds unkindly wrought, And each did bleed. Again together laid. SOUL-VOICES. 231 The two hearts healed ; Their wounds were closed by Love ; But lo ! a wonder was revealed ; Instead of two that beat as one, Two hearts to one had grown. LOVE'S RESUKRECTION. My Love lies under the northern sky, Cold are the stars above her grave ; The birds are hushed and the flowers dead, And dead is the joy my Love once gave. Sweet was the murmur of her voice. Sweeter the sparkle of her eye ; Beat slow, heart, beat slow, I say, And breath, do not so heavily sigh ! For my Love shall rise and live again. As the flowers live in held and glen. TOO LATE THY LOVE. Too late thy love has come to me. It finds a rival in my breast. A higher Love possesses me That makes but mockery all the rest : A Love that outshines earthly passion. Stronger than death to call the soul Up from the loves of this world's fashion To where the stars of heaven do roll. Love of the earth, thou maddening frenzy, Pretending to be of heaven born, Cease from torturing heart of mortals ; Thou hast made souls enough forlorn. Cease from promising joy and gladness. And paying hearts in tears and sadness. Cease from blinding the eyes of mortals To the Light that shines through heaven's portals ; Cease from drawing the sons of heaven Away from the Joys that God has given. 232 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. TO A BUMBLE-BEE. I GREET yoii, my brother, flitting from flower to flower. I, wandering among the grasses and flowers, greet you gladly. I, too, am flitting from blossom to blossom. I alight and sip the nectar of each, I abide not with any. My course like thine is zig-zag. Because I love all blossoms and would pass none. brother, let us gather our honey in peace. The world knoweth not where our garnered sweets lie hidden. Let the contented worm live and die in one rosebud ; Wider is our horizon. From flower to flower, from field to field, Joyfully in the sunshine let us fly. He that scattered the flowers in divers places, And planted in us a love for their nectar. He knoweth why we wander, and is content. DEAR FBIEND. Dear friend, whose image steals so softly into my soul, Thy presence is like a gentle strain of music. Breathing sweet harmony. Thou movest like a spirit of light. Crowned with modesty, robed in purity. Breathing sweet peace and the fragrance of pure affec- tions. Thou art sister to the violet ; Thine eyes are rivals to the fair stars, looking benignly. Thy countenance is like the dawn, glowing with pure light. Sweetness and modesty are thy handmaids, All the graces attend thee. Flowers brighten when thou passest by. Birds sing louder when thou art listening. SOUL-VOICES. 233 Thou art attuned to all pure and sweet and tender notes In the great symphony of life. Sweet friend, lift up thy soul to God, And praise Him that He hath so fully dwelt in thee. INFINITE SPIRIT. Thou who art the enclosure and boundary of all Being; Thou whose sea laps the shores of all worlds ; Thou who art the Beginning and End ; Thou who containest the vast scheme of Kosmic Order ; Who art the vibrant source of all life That breaks musically on the World-shores ; Thou who art the music of the sunbeam ; The quick dart of the star-ray ; The silent, permeating, all-confining Law ; Thou who dost put on Space and Time as the garment of thy Infinity ; Thou life, light, motion, Soul of the Kosmic web Which thou weavest out of thy Self-hood ; Speak, and reveal to my soul the mystery of her being ! " Out of Me, by Law proceeding, To the rhythmic march of spheral music. The soul comes forth, to join the choir of life ; Glad and lightsome is the song of life, Swelling from sphere to sphere ; In joyous melody roll the stars, And the choiring spheres sing aye to Me.'' THE SOUL'S PEOTECTIOK. Come, Fear and Doubt ; Come, horrible dread of that which waits the dead ! Leer and grin at me, ye imps of darkness, brood of hell ! Chatter and mow ! Twist your features more horribly ! Ye cannot frighten me, I stand stock-still, Laughing at all your horrors ! Whirl about me, imps of the smoky night ! 234 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. Flap your black wings, dripping with slime and ooze ! Breathe on me, ye that have sucked up The pestilent fogs of death-valleys ! Blow your foul spirits in my face ! Eeach at me with your clawed lingers, foul and hardy- like! Touch me ye cannot, ye hell-brood ! For I am sphered about with Spirit ; I am surrounded by a veil of bright Light; Ye cannot pierce its folds ; Back ye are hurled by its bright glory ; Back to the hell from which ye came ; And I stand stock-still, laughing at all your horrors. NIEVANA. My soul is stirred by strange forces ; its waters are rufl9.ed ; Unknown airs blow upon me; a Light breaks from above ; Fire descends and touches my soul ; I am quickened, I am in the Spirit ; I commune with higher Being ; My soul blends with the Great Soul ; I meet and mingle with the Soul of All ; 1 I am of the World-Soul ; Tree and flower and bird are parts of Me; I am diffused, expanded, I partake of all, and all of Me ; In Me float the galaxies, My soul gleams in their fires ; My Thought is the Law whereby things are and move ; I am Truth and Principle ; Being is of Me ; The procession of the worlds flows out from Me ; I am serene, content, balanced in eternal Best ; I desire not, move not ; yet desire and motion are of Me ; 1 dwell not in Space, yet Space is of Me ; SOUL-VOICES. 235 I am Eternity, yet Time is of Me ; I am supreme, yet subject ; I command, and am commanded ; I pass into worlds, and withdraw again ; I am spring and summer, seed and harvest ; I am the Life, the Law, the only Thought ; I alone Am ; all things are of Me ; Life flows out of Me, and returns to Me again ; 1 am Sound and Silence ; I am Light and Darkness ; I am the principle of Growth, whereby things are ; I dwell in Immensity, I am Immensity itself ; I am the only Eeal ; all things but pictures of Me ; He who knows himself as Me is saved ; all else are lost. SAD VOICES. Voices of the night, chanting the death of Day ; Sad-toned, aspirate, moist with tears. The shadows, falling, drape all things in mourning ; Silence, the only mourner, bewails the departed joy of day. The sun-god, wantonly kissing his loves, the flowers, Making them to blush and droop, Has gone, over the hills, to other lands. i.n the darkness and mists we are left. You and I, sad voices. Utter my feelings I cannot, sad voices ; But ye shall chant for me and you ; Ye shall chant, sad voices, the death of Day and Joy. Sad-toned, aspirate, moist with tears. Ye, sad voices, shall chant the death of Day. TO THE BKIDE OF MY SOUL. Thou art mine, my Love ; like supplemental rays Thy soul and mine shine forth out of the Infinite. Even as twin stars, softly shining. Do our souls gleam forth, each the other adorning. 236 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. Mysterious chain, binding our hearts in one ! Its links are made of golden thoughts ; Its strength is the strength of steel ; No instrument can sever it. my Love, fair complement of my soul. Thou art adorned with modesty as with a mantle ; Thou dost radiate purity like the pearl of ocean ; Thou art all aglow with light 5 for the Spirit resteth on thee, And shineth through thy countenance. my Love, thou art mine. And we like twin stars shall shine on forever. SPIEITS OF SONG. Come to me now, ye Spirits of Song ! Touch my soul with fire from the celestial altars ! Descend upon me ; make me fertile of Song ! Eise, ye winds and waves of emotion ! Shriek and sob, play wild havoc, Dash and break upon the shores of sense ! Why are ye voiceless, ye Spirits of Song ? Why strike ye your harps with muffled hands ? Why check ye the flow of feeling ? Speak ! Cry out ! Sing, wildly, or what way ye will ! Call down lightnings ! Loose whirlwinds ! Hurl the mad waves of wrath upon me ! Shake the solid continent of Thought ! Upheave mountains thereon, and loose the molten waves of passion ! Why stand ye silent, draped in vacancy ? Why carry ye your harps so heavily ? Uplift, smite them with wrathful hand ! Shrieks were better than dumb and deathly silence ! Chant, wildly, or how ye will ! Be not silent, for all creation sings ! The stars chime wildly in the space-chambers ; SOUL-VOICES. 237 Voices from wrecked worlds, from stars crushed and shattered, Pierce the spaces ; there is no silence ; All is voiceful, all is vibrant with song, peaceful or wild. Sing, then, ye Spirits ! Be not silent among the Voices! Chant, wildly, or howsoe'er ye will ! THE HOME OF THE SOUL. Wild light of the sunset sky, O where is the home of the Soul ? Is it there where the wild light flows From out the mysterious Deep, Pouring upon the shores And the rock-bound shoals of Time ? Out of the vast Unknown, Out of the soundless Deep, Where the wild sky-currents flow. And the orbs of space do sweep ? Sea of commingled Force, Wild winds from wandering stars, And the rush and the sweep of worlds, Released from the prison bars Of Chaos and black Night ; Maelstrom of Kosmic Power, In which the ships of Time Go down to eternal wreck ; Art thou the home of the Soul, blind and whirling Sea, vortex of wild Force, O womb of Immensity ? Nay ; but I hear a Voice Above the wild turmoil. The crash and the wreck of worlds, The roar of the boundless Sea Breaking among the rocks On the shore of Immensity : 238 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. ^' Deep in the soundless Sea Where the roar of the waves is stilled, Beyond the tempest's power, In the heart of eternal Peace, Is the home of the human Soul ; And there, in the arms of Love, In the light of perfect Joy, Shall dwell the soul of man, When its mortal life is done. Long is the Way thereto, And the senses cannot find That mystic winding Path ; Out of the sunset gates That close on the life of sense, Over the hills of the world. That glow with the rosy light, The Soul that with sense hath done Shall tread the illumined Way, And, passing the star that shines In the western twilight sky. Shall reach the Land of Light, And dwell in Immensity ; One with the Life of All, One with the Heart of Love, One with the Wise, Good Power Which Is, for Eternity." LOVE'S BEAUTY. O MY ideal love ! Hovering o'er my soul Like the fair evening star over the world. Fairer than dawn art thou, O my fair, lovely one, bride of my soul. Part of the Infinite Soul, sharing Its beauty. One with the snow-flake, the flower, and the star. Part of that fair world-life which, in the soul, painteth its beauty. SOUL-VOICES. 239 Star-gleam and water-fall, shimmer of moonbeams on billowy sea, Dark glance of water where shadows lie deep, Waving of meadow grass, swept by the breath of dawn; All are but parts of Thee, World-Spirit fair and free, Of which my love is the perfectest sign. LOVE'S PRESENCE. Soft is thy touch, love, sweet is thy presence ; Melody wakes in me, heartstrings are gently swept, As by a breeze from heaven ; Music so soft and sweet, waking the echoes, Melting my being in harmony sweet. No touch so soft as thine, No hand so light as thine, No star hath ray like the beam of thine eye. No golden moonlight so mellow as that soft light Glowing in thy large eyes, fire of the soul. Holy and lovely one, soft is thy foot-fall, Lovely as dawn is the sight of thy form ; Moving so gracefully, gliding so softly, Gracing the earth with thy presence so fair. THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE LAW. High is the chant of the soul When the mighty Law is seen ; Deep in the Kosmic spaces The Truth of the Soul lies hid. Sweeter than siren music Is the music of that Law Which knowing, the soul is wise. Out of eternal deeps The soul of man came forth ; Dazed by Time and the World, She loseth her knowledge vast. She drinks of the cup of sense, 240 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. And is drunken with, the wine Which pours from the fruit of the world. O soul, awake and know Thy nature, what it is ; Kecall thy old-time wisdom When thou dwelt in the heart of God. That which thou seest is not ; The world is a fading mist ; And Truth is the only Keal, The knowledge of the Law. MIST-DRAPERY. Veil of soft beauty, that hast dropped from heaven ; Cloud of illusion ; misty robe of light ; Melting all objects in a spirit-dream ; Garment of the hidden Soul of things ; Trailing robe of beauty, heaven-wove. Of richest spirit-stuff ; fair work of God, Draping the earth with raiment of the soul ! LOVE DIVINE. O Love that is formless and vast ! A Spirit that touches the soul With fire from the altars of God ! Burns in my breast this pure flame, Kindled by unseen hands ; Pure as the star-ray from heaven. Or the light of the new-breaking dawn. Plowers are its messengers fair, Birds sing its chant to the soul ; The pure breeze of morn is its breath, And the silence its presence reveals. Dwell with me, Spirit so pure ; Habit my heart with thy peace ; Let joy and comfort be mine. Because of thy presence so sweet. SOUL-VOICES. 241 THE SOUL AND THE WOELD. Everything the Soul doth seek Hath its pure original In the Soul's mysterious deep. All things outward but reflect The world that is within the Soul. Like to like doth ever draw, Soul and world are but one fact. Beauty doth to beauty seek, Truth to truth and love to love ; Supplemental, each to each. Parts that make one primal whole, One within the conscious Soul ; Nothing vagrant, all are one. One within the conscious Soul. NIGHT AND THE SOUL. O SOLEMN Night! Thou star-bejeweled ! Cloaker of dark Mystery ! Secrets of old Time thou hidest Deep in thy dark breast. Ocean of darkness, surrounding Space and Time, Worlds float in thee. And the sons of men are thy offspring. Cave of winds and storms ; womb of being ; How shall I name thee ? My soul hides from thee ; Thou art too vast for me. — Out of Space a Voice speaks, deep and solemn, And my soul responds, awe-touched. " Spirit of Man," it saith : ^' Mirror of Day and Night ; More capacious than vast Space ; Outliving worlds and stars ; Shrink not, fear not : Night and Day are but figments ; 242 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. Their phantasmagoria but vapors of Thought ; Lives within thee the true Heaven, spangled with Thought ; Deep within thee the true Sky, vast dome of thy world. Space and Time are but motions of the soul-life within thee; Waves, rising and falling on the sea of the Soul : Out-world but a fiction of the Dream-world within thee ; Old Night, sable goddess, robed in Mystery's raiment, The forthshadowed dream of thy dark-brooding brain. See Thyself pictured alway, in mountain and meadow, In forest and stream and the deep-sounding sea ; Soul within thee out-painted, on Time's mystic canvas, With the pigments of Feeling, the atoms of Thought. Thou painter of World-pictures, creator of Space and Time, Know Thyself for thy World, and all beautiful Forms." WONDEE OF THE SOUL. Mystery, mystery, saith the soul ; None can resolve it ; The purpose and meaning of Life on the earth; The heart beats, the brain throbs, The blood courses warmly, Loves and hates play and strive In the soul's unknown deeps ; Thought, like lightning, flashes, vanishes, In the heavens of the Mind. Wonder, wonder, fronts the Man-soul ; Blazes forth the Life-spirit From shrub, grass, and flower ; Out of cloud, rock, and tree Looketh forth grim Mystery. None knoweth, none knoweth life's mystery vast ! the world ! the heavens ! O the sea's deep cerulean ! SOUL-VOICES. 243 the blue, swimming sky With its white, massing clouds ! Deep the wonder, the mystery ! Deeper the miracle of life in the soul Fronting this Wonder and asking for Truth ! soul with thy longings for Truth, Good, and Beauty, See thy longings achieved in thy oneness with God ; Joined to Wisdom Supernal, one with Love, one with Beauty, Thou shalt find satisfaction, and look on thine own. SWIFTER THAK ARROWS FLIGHT. MY soul's mate, where art thou now ? Vibrating 'tween us, the sensitive currents Of life-force are flashing ; seeking each other. The opposite currents are throbbing and pulsing. Strings are struck wildly ; fire-swept, the harp awakes ; Lyric strains rise from it ; air is all dancing With melody wild and sweet ; echoes afar are waked ; Winds are sound-laden ; sunbeams are burdened. With love-pulses vibrating ; forces are wakening. Brain-atoms whirling, nerve-centers vibrating, under Love's touch. Swift are Love's couriers, swift are his messengers ; But they are laggards all, when the soul orders. Quicker than arrow's flight, swifter than sun-ray's flight, Go the desires and longings of Love. Past all the boundaries builded by time and space, Over the walls of earth, spirit its fellow seeks. When shall the walls of time melt in the spirit's light ? When shall love find her own, spite of the bounds of sense ? When shall the soul be free, loosed from the chains of sense ; Free to go forth and find That on which life depends ? 244 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. Why should souls parted be, linked by love's ties in one ? Shall not all walls be pierced, Barriers all burned away by the soul's fire ? DUST AND THE SOUL. By the moonbeams' mellow light I stand beside the graves Of the peaceful-sleeping dead : Dust of the sleeping dead, Vibrant no more with the thoughts Of the souls that gave it life. Not in the grass-grown grave Is the soul that once enchanted This silent sleeping dust. Gone to its home above, Gone to the world of Life, Gone to its loving God. Mellow the moonlight rests Upon the grass-grown graves ; White are the marble shafts That mark the humble beds Where the silent forms do sleep ; But light is the world of the soul, Glad is its home on high ; Peace to the sleeping dead, Eor they wake to a life with God. OUT OF THE INFINITE. Out of the Infinite, slowly emerging. Clothed in light, comes the bright soul of Man; Glowing with radiance brought from the sphere Where Life has its birth; Slowly emerging, struggling and fainting, Stumbling and falling on earth's stony soil. Never forgotten is the land of our infancy, Never quite lost is the memory sweet SOUL-VOICES. 245 Of that fair abode where Life came and called us To journey awhile on earth's dusty road. Sounds of the voices we heard in that country Break on the ear in our listening moods ; Faint reminiscence of Glory departed Rises and fronts us, when out of the world For a moment we flee, and list to the voices That whisper so softly unto the soul. Glory remembered ! vision of Beauty ! echo of Truth that once charmed the soul ! These are the strength of the buffeted soul ; These are the sources of courage and faith. NOT IX TIME. Not in Time, not in Time, Is the burden of my rhyme ; Not in houses of poor clay, Not in tenements of flesh Dwell the Perfect and the True. Not in shadows of the deep, Not in caves or hidden chasms Dwells the Beauty that we seek. Not among the fleeting fancies Of the sense-world dwells the True. Far beyond old Time's horizon. Far beyond the farthest shore. Out of sight, beyond attaining, Lies the Treasure that we seek. Truth and Beauty dwell in spirit ; Never to the world of sense Do these goddesses descend. High in upper air they habit, With the star-raj^s do they wander, With the sparkling orbs of heaven Do they find companionship. Seek them not, erring mortal. 246 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. In the world of Things about thee ; Never shalt thou see their footprints In the shifting sands of Time. With the star-rays do they wander, With the bright orbs of the heavens Do they find companionship. NOVEMBER STORM-CLOUDS. Sail, ye wild clouds, through the cold sky, Swept by the wild winds, hurrying swift ; Flecked with a golden light. Streaked with blazing bars. Pierced by lances of shimmering light ; Fly, swiftly fly, through the ether on high, Driven by winds through the cold vasty sky. Warriors bold and brave, rushing to battle ! Gathering ranks of war, marshaled by wind-captains ! Mad with wild rage. Hurrying, skurrying, Avhirling and flurrying, Sweeping across the wild, open sky ! Sweeping in mighty ranks through the wild sky ! NOVEMBER SUNSET. Trees of the wood, their branches up-raising, Dark 'gainst the blazing wild western sky. Red glows the angry sky. Rifted by light-lances Hurled by the sun-god back at the world. Somber and silent trees, mystery-voicing. Nodding their hoary heads, tossed by the breeze. THE SOUL'S MYSTERY. O THE Soul! World within world ! Whence its life ? Whence its action ? So unknown to itself, so mysterious and vast ! Gleam of light, shot across the blank heavens of darkness ! SOUL-VOICES. 247 Like a shooting star, falling and quenclied in the dark, Is the world-life of man, from cradle to grave. Vast-reaching, space-surrounding, all-daring, his thought; Earth-born, earth-returning, grave-enclosed his flesh. Communing in life with gods, Mingled at last with worms ; Sky-aspiring, earth-conquered ; Flame of Light, urn of dust. Ah! Mame-spirit, flashing out in the darkness. Kindled of the All-Light art thou ; Flash and glow, iridescent with beauty, Flame-spirit; Thou art born of the Infinite, All-Living Light. SUNSET AND THE SOUL. Slowly fades the western light, Paler growls the western glory ; Thoughts mysterious and vast Visit me from out the silence — Lonely, vast, and awful silence ! Wild expanse of tumbled storm-clouds, Blushing chastely with the kisses Of the sinking sun of glory ! Spirit lonely and sublime, That paintest all this twilight beauty. Dwell with me, a lonely wanderer On the troubled shores of Time ! I the lonely, I the silent, 1 the mystery-haunted spirit, I the home of cloud-born fancies, I the twilight-painted sky — Greet thee, Spirit of the twilight, Greet thee. Painter of the glory That I see in western sky. Mystic voices of the silence, Spirit forms that float about me. Born of storm-tossed, painted clouds, 248 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. Offspring of the wild, cold storm-liglit, Flowing in the western sky ; Light that fills the soul with mystery, Pouring in from infinite spaces, Like the tide-waves of the ocean Beating on the shores of Time : Soul that frontest all this splendor. Thou art all of this, and more ! OWEN BEOWN, SON OF OLD JOHN BROWN, OF OSSAWATOMIE.^ Son of illustrious sire ! A prophet of Freedom thou ! In the stormy days gone by, When the black slave waited long For his birthright, Freedom, thou Didst raise thy voice and hand To give him what he lacked. To the muskets' reveille, To the music of brave feet Tramping the fields of war His Freedom-song was sung, And thy voice helped to swell That chorus to his ears. Upon this watch-tower high. Heaved up by Almighty Power, Thy grave shall a beacon be ; And the music of the pine That stands by thy lonely grave Thy requiem shall be. In its surging, ceaseless song I hear the songs of the dead ; I hear the sighs of the slave, 1 Written at the grave of Owen Brown, in the Sierra IVIadre Moun- tains, near Pasadena, California. SOUL-VOICES. 249 That were changed to exultant shouts ; I hear the prayers of the brave, Going up from battle-fields With the smoke and the noise of strife ; I hear the Time-ghost's voice, In its whispered, warning tones ; And I sense thy spirit's presence In the rustle of these boughs. Thou art not dead, brave soul, But art ever marching on With the soul of thy murdered sire, To lead the sons of men In the battle-fields of life. DIVINE POSSESSION. What wouldst thou have, aspiring soul ? Claim it, for 'tis already thine. Thy wish is born of what thou hast, Concealed within thy soul divine. SPHINX-FACES. Queer faces of my comrades, peering into mine, — Full of mystery to me, you faces ! You do not know that you are ignorant what you are ; From you the dream has not departed ; Still you sleep, murmuring ; Your dreams are troubled, but do not wake you ; faces of my comrades, you are Sphinxes unto me ! FOB WHOM IS THE UNHEAED SONG? SOUL, is thy song unheeded. Thy wild harp-notes struck forth For the vibrant air alone ? Be not cast down, O soul ! For whom do the bluebirds sing ? For whom do the flowers blow ? 250 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. For wliom is the shattered spray Where gleams the seven-hued bow ? For whom doth the morning break, . And the light burst prison bars ? For whom doth the moon walk forth ? For whom do the starlights gleam ? For whom is the chant of the waves, And the wild song of the winds ? For whom is the song of day, Eising from myriad tongues ; From the woods and the verdant fields. From the hills and the winding vales ? For whom is the bending grass, And the waving yellow corn, And the song of birds at dawn, And the voices of the night That rise from the sleeping world ? soul, be not cast down ! Thy song is a chord in these, The harmony of life That rises from the world ; And each for the other is. And each to the other sings. And all are the gladness of the world. The chant of eternity. Be not cast down, my soul, But sing thy song in peace ; The God that is over all Hath granted thee to sing. And the music of thy soul In the harmony of life Shall rise to the Oversoul, The Master of us all. 016