ure-mystic's view of the situation which,
when really attained, is seen to be of no less importance, though
it is too often left in comparative obscurity. It is easily
approached from the purely aesthetic side. The city may
develop a quick and precocious intelligence, but it is at the cost
of eliminating a rich range of experiences which should be the
heritage of all normal human beings. In the city, the mind tends
to be immersed in a restricted and specialised round of duties
and pleasures, and loses "natural" tone. While, on the one hand,
there is over-stimulation of certain modes of sensation, others
are largely or wholly atrophied. The finest susceptibilities
decay. The eye and ear, the most delicate avenues of the soul,
are deprived of their native stimulants. In short, city conditions
unduly inhibit the natural development of many elements of the
higher self.

The evils thus briefly touched upon are undoubtedly forcing
themselves more and more into notice, and are evoking much
philanthropic thought and activity. They are more especially
bewailed by many who, themselves lovers of art and lovers of
nature, keenly appreciate the loss sustained, and the danger
incurred. Ruskin's teachings have affected the views and lives
of thousands who have never read his books. Those who have
penetrated most deeply into the play of aesthetic cause and
effect, well know that the very existence of truly great and
creative art is at stake. Science, literature, politics, and a
thousand specialised distractions tend to "saturate our limited
attention," and to absorb our energies, to the detriment of our
feeling for nature and of our enjoyment of her beauties. And yet
it is only by keeping in living touch with nature that fine art can
renew its inspiration or scale the heights.

There is, of course, the counter peril of an unhealthy
aestheticism, marked by an assumption of susceptibility which
is insufferable. Feeling, ostensibly expended upon external
beauty, can become an odious form of self-admiration; and
priggishness is the least of the diseases that will ensue. For with
the loss of spontaneity and freshness in the feeling there goes
mortification of the feeling itself. Still, this danger is not
general, and is therefore less noteworthy. It may safely be left to
the healing remedies instinctively applied by common sense.

The nature-mystic, however, does not linger long on the merely
aesthetic plane. He goes deeper down to th