nd and tides, every change, every
cause in Nature is nothing but a disguised missionary." ...

But Emerson is not satisfied with metaphor. "We affirm that in all men
is this majestic perception and command; that it is the presence of the
eternal in each perishing man; that it distances and degrades all
statements of whatever saints, heroes, poets, as obscure and confused
stammerings before its silent revelation. _They_ report the truth. _It_
is the truth." In this last extract we have Emerson actually affirming
that his dogma of the Moral Law is Absolute Truth. He thinks it not
merely a form of truth, like the old theologies, but very
distinguishable from all other forms in the past.

Curiously enough, his statement of the law grows dogmatic and incisive
in proportion as he approaches the borderland between his law and the
natural instincts: "The last revelation of intellect and of sentiment is
that in a manner it severs the man from all other men; makes known to
him _that the spiritual powers are sufficient to him if no other being
existed_; that he is to deal absolutely in the world, as if he alone
were a system and a state, and though all should perish could make all
anew." Here we have the dogma applied, and we see in it only a new form
of old Calvinism as cruel as Calvinism, and not much different from its
original. The italics are not Emerson's, but are inserted to bring out
an idea which is everywhere prevalent in his teaching.

In this final form, the Moral Law, by insisting that sheer conscience
can slake the thirst that rises in the soul, is convicted of falsehood;
and this heartless falsehood is the same falsehood that has been put
into the porridge of every Puritan child for six generations. A grown
man can digest doctrine and sleep at night. But a young person of high
purpose and strong will, who takes such a lie as this half-truth and
feeds on it as on the bread of life, will suffer. It will injure the
action of his heart. Truly the fathers have eaten sour grapes, therefore
the children's teeth are set on edge.

* * * * *

To understand the civilization of cities, we must look at the rural
population from which they draw their life. We have recently had our
attention called to the last remnants of that village life so reverently
gathered up by Miss Wilkins, and of which Miss Emily Dickinson was the
last authentic voice. The spirit of this age has examined with an almost