great soul to prize them.

Van Artevelde's Elena, though in her individual nature unlike my
Mariana, is like her in a mind whose large impulses are disproportioned
to the persons and occasions she meets, and which carry her beyond those
reserves which mark the appointed lot of woman. But, when she met Van
Artevelde, he was too great not to revere her rare nature, without
regard to the stains and errors of its past history; great enough to
receive her entirely and make a new life for her; man enough to be a
lover! But as such men come not so often as once an age, their presence
should not be absolutely needed to sustain life.

At Chicago I read again Philip Van Artevelde, and certain passages in it
will always be in my mind associated with the deep sound of the lake, as
heard in the night. I used to read a short time at night, and then open
the blind to look out. The moon would be full upon the lake, and the
calm breath, pure light, and the deep voice harmonized well with the
thought of the Flemish hero. When will this country have such a man? It
is what she needs; no thin Idealist, no coarse Realist, but a man whose
eye reads the heavens while his feet step firmly on the ground, and his
hands are strong and dexterous for the use of human implements. A man
religious, virtuous and--sagacious; a man of universal sympathies, but
self-possessed; a man who knows the region of emotion, though he is not
its slave; a man to whom this world is no mere spectacle, or fleeting
shadow, but a great solemn game to be played with good heed, for its
stakes are of eternal value, yet who, if his own play be true, heeds not
what he loses by the falsehood of others. A man who hives from the
past, yet knows that its honey can but moderately avail him; whose
comprehensive eye scans the present, neither infatuated by its golden
lures, nor chilled by its many ventures; who possesses prescience, as
the wise man must, but not so far as to be driven mad to-day by the gift
which discerns to-morrow. When there is such a man for America, the
thought which urges her on will be expressed.

Now that I am about to leave Illinois, feelings of regret and admiration
come over me, as in parting with a friend whom we have not had the good
sense to prize and study, while hours of association, never perhaps to
return, were granted. I have fixed my attention almost exclusively on
the picturesque beauty of this region; it was so new, so inspiring. But
I ought to