man, are all made of one stuff,
are all akin. The evolutionary impulse that brought man, brought his
dog and horse. Did Emerson, indeed, only go to nature as he went to
the bank, to make a draft upon it? Was his walk barren that brought
him no image, no new idea? Was the day wasted that did not add a new
line to his verse? He appears to have gone up and down the land
seeking images. He was so firmly persuaded that there is not a passage
in the human soul, perhaps not a shade of thought, but has its emblem
in nature, that he was ever on the alert to discover these relations
of his own mind to the external world. "I see the law of Nature
equally exemplified in bar-room and in a saloon of the philosopher. I
get instruction and the opportunities of my genius indifferently in
all places, companies, and pursuits, so only there be antagonisms."

Emerson thought that science as such bereaved Nature of her charm. To
the man of little or no imagination or sensibility to beauty, Nature
has no charm anyhow, but if he have these gifts, they will certainly
survive scientific knowledge, and be quickened and heightened by it.

After we have learned all that the astronomers can tell us about the
midnight heavens, do we look up at the stars with less wonder and awe?
After we have learned all that the chemist and the physicist can tell
us about matter--its interior activities and its exterior laws and
relations--do we admire and marvel less? After the geologist has told
us all he has found out about the earth's crust and the rocks, when we
quarry our building-stone, do we plough and hoe and plant its soil
with less interest and veneration? No, science as the pursuit of truth
causes light to spring out of the abysmal darkness, and enhances our
love and interest in Nature. Is the return of the seasons less
welcome because we know the cause? Is an eclipse less startling
because it occurs exactly on time? Science bereaves Nature of her
dread and fearsomeness, it breaks the spell which the ignorance and
credulity of men have cast upon her.

Emerson had little use for science except so far as it yielded him
symbols and parables for his superscience. The electric spark did not
kindle his interest unless it held an ethical fact for him; chemical
reactions were dull affairs unless he could trace their laws in mental
reactions. "Read chemistry a little," he said, "and you will quickly
see that its laws and experiments will furnish an alphabet or