of a single
man. But more than this. He had that secret of genius to draw from the
bottom of society the strength of its speech, and astonish the ears of
the polite with these artless words, better than art, and filtered of
all offence through his beauty. It seemed odious to Luther that the
devil should have all the best tunes; he would bring them into the
churches; and Burns knew how to take from fairs and gypsies, blacksmiths
and drovers, the speech of the market and street, and clothe it with
melody.

But I am detaining you too long. The memory of Burns--I am afraid heaven
and earth have taken too good care of it to leave us anything to say.
The west winds are murmuring it. Open the windows behind you, and
hearken for the incoming tide, what the waves say of it. The doves,
perching always on the eaves of the Stone Chapel [King's Chapel]
opposite, may know something about it. Every home in broad Scotland
keeps his fame bright. The memory of Burns--every man's, and boy's, and
girl's head carries snatches of his songs, and can say them by heart,
and, what is strangest of all, never learned them from a book, but from
mouth to mouth. The wind whispers them, the birds whistle them, the
corn, barley, and bulrushes hoarsely rustle them; nay, the music-boxes
at Geneva are framed and toothed to play them; the hand-organs of the
Savoyards in all cities repeat them, and the chimes of bells ring them
in the spires. They are the property and the solace of mankind.
[Cheers.]

* * * * *

WAR

[Speech of Ralph Waldo Emerson at the dinner of Harvard Alumni at
Cambridge, Mass., July 21, 1865, on the occasion of the commemoration
of the patriot heroes of Harvard College in the Civil War.]

MR. CHAIRMAN AND GENTLEMEN:--With whatever opinions we come
here, I think it is not in man to see, without a feeling of pride and
pleasure, a tried soldier, the armed defender of the right. I think
that, in these last years, all opinions have been affected by the
magnificent and stupendous spectacle, which Divine Providence has
offered us, of the energies that slept in the children of this
country,--that slept and have awakened. I see thankfully those who are
here; but dim eyes in vain explore for some who are not. They shine the
brighter "in the domain of tender memory." The old Greek, Heraclitus,
said: "War is the father of all things." He said it, no doubt, as
science, but we of this day can repeat it