Learn to see through the eye of the Planetary Spirit. Your view is too narrow. Where your library stands on shelves is for you the centre of things; but the centre of things is in the heart, and hearts are everywhere. If you think about the race and not about yourself, your heart will be magnified; you will see with the eyes of the heart, and he who sees with the eyes of the heart is wiser than historians or intellectual prophets. The world must be made safe for love. All men must be provided for in the scheme of the future, all men and women and little children. It is not safe to disregard any, for a chain is as strong as its weakest link, and every link must be made strong. LETTER XVI A COUNCIL IN THE FOREST ONE night, to repose my soul from the labors I had undertaken, I retired to a pine forest upon the earth, in one of the New England States. Thinking to be alone, I had sought the place; but no sooner had I drifted into meditation than a strange sound fell upon my ears. It was not like the sounds of earth, it was more subtle yet more penetrating; and I knew that I was listening to a song (if you may call it a song) by some of my fellow sojourners in the region beyond the sunlight. Suddenly with a rush they leaped past me into the clearing, and forming in a circle, they waited. Then I saw a light that was not of earthly origin, the light of a campfire, and I knew that I had been surprised by a band of Indians who were preparing to hold some rite of their old religion. Though I had not been invited to their ceremony, neither had I invited them to intrude upon my contemplation, so I remained and watched them. (Yes, there is less secrecy out here, for the reason that there is greater understanding and greater tolerance.) Soon I was looking on at a strange dance. All in a circle they swung round and round the blazing fire, singing and leaping. I did not know the meaning of the words they sang; but I could read their minds by the thought-images they formed, and I knew that they were celebrating the date--reached by what lunar reckoning I knew not--of some great Indian massacre in which they had taken part a hundred or two hundred years ago. And the impulse of their dance, the motive power of it, was hatred of the white man who had scattered them and driven them away from their old hunting grounds. Shocked, yet fascinated by this inner glimpse at the souls of the American aborigines, I watched them. Though I am not skilled in magic rituals, I soon perceived that there was form and method in this dance, method and form and a hostile purpose. They were, by exciting themselves and by fixity of thought, trying to excite a scattered company of men in these United States--men of a low grade of intellect but of psychic temperament--to deeds of violence and destruction. “So that is the way they do it!” I thought.