"His eye hardly rests upon the earth; His ear hears the one-clang of nature; What history records,—what life gives,— Directly and gladly his genius takes it up: His mind collects the widely dispersed, And his feeling animates the inanimate. Often he ennobles what appeared to us common, And the prized is as nothing to him. In his own magic circle wanders The wonderful man, and draws us With him to wander, and take part in it: He seems to draw near to us, and remains afar from us: He seems to be looking at us, and spirits, forsooth, Appear to him strangely in our places."—_Ibid._ HOW MAN GROWS "A noble man has not to thank a private circle for his culture. Fatherland and world must work upon him. Fame and infamy must he learn to endure. He will be constrained to know himself and others. Solitude shall no more lull him with her flattery. The foe _will_ not, the friend _dares_ not, spare him. Then, striving, the youth puts forth his strength, feels what he is, and feels himself soon a man." "A talent is builded in solitude, A character in the stream of the world." "He only fears man who knows him not, and he who avoids him will soonest misapprehend him."—_Ibid._ ARIOSTO "As nature decks her inward rich breast in a green variegated dress, so clothes he all that can make men honorable in the blooming garb of the fable.... The well of superfluity bubbles near, and lets us see variegated wonder-fishes. The air is filled with rare birds, the meads and copses with strange herds, wit lurks half concealed in the verdure, and wisdom from time to time lets sound from a golden cloud sustained words, while frenzy wildly seems to sweep the well-toned lute, yet holds itself measured in perfect time." BEAUTY "That beauty is transitory which alone you seem to honor."—GOETHE, _Torquato Tasso_. THE FOG _Oct. 27._ The prospect is limited to Nobscot and Annursnack. The trees stand with boughs downcast like pilgrims beaten by a storm, and the whole landscape wears a sombre aspect. So when thick vapors cloud the soul, it strives in vain to escape from its humble working-day valley, and pierce the dense fog which shuts out from view the blue peaks in its horizon, but must be content to scan its near and homely hills. DUCKS AT GOOSE POND