ips two names--God and Rachel. More than
a score of years had passed since her death, but in that memorable
hour the great man built a monument to her who had fed his joy and
deepened his life.

Friendship carries a certain fertilizing force. All biographers tell
us that each epoch in a hero's life was ushered in by a new friend.
When Schiller met Goethe every latent talent awakened. The poet's
friendship caused the youth to grow by leaps and bounds. Once,
returning home after a brief visit to Goethe's house, one exclaimed:
"I am amazed by the progress Schiller can make within a single
fortnight!" Perhaps this explains why the great seem to come in
groups. Thrust an Emerson into any Concord, and his pungent presence
will penetrate the entire region. Soon all who come within the radius
of his life respond to his presence, as flowers and trees respond with
boughs brilliant and fragrant to the sunshine when spring replaces the
icy winter. After a little time, each Emerson stands girt about with
Hawthornes, Whittiers, Holmeses, and Lowells. The greatness of each
Milton lingers in his friends, Cromwell and Hampden, as the sun
lingers in the clouds after the day is done. Therefore the great epics
and dramas, from the Iliad to the Idylls of the King, are stories of
friendships. Take love out of our greatest literature, and it is like
taking a sweet babe out of the clothes that cover it. Man listens
eagerly to tales of eloquence and heroism, but loves most of all the
stories of the heart. God is not more truly the life of dead matter
than is love the very life of man.

Now, the secret of eminence in the realm of industry or art or
invention is this: that the worker has wrought in his luminous mental
moods. In its passive, inert states, the mind is receptive. Then
reason is like a sheathed sword. Thought must be struck forth as fire
is struck from flint. But under inspirational moods the mind begins to
glow and kindle. Then the reason of the orator, the poet or reformer
ceases to be like a taper, needing a match to light it, and becomes a
sun, blazing with its own radiance. Spencer wrote: "By no political
alchemy can we get golden conduct out of leaden instincts." Thus there
is no necromancy by which the mind can get superior work out of its
inferior moods.

When, then, reason approaches its task under the inspiration of
enthusiasm and love, nature yields up all her secrets. Here is the
author sitting down to write. Memory r