It is the man that makes this unity--this stained-glass window through which truth shines. The artists have had a monopoly of logic, and are the only people who get the credit of being expressive. Yet now and then a philosopher like Kant draws together a lot of old junk, and thinks over it, and arranges it till it becomes--to anyone who can follow the reasoning--a sort of cathedral of logic. Or again, a man who is the very antipodes of Kant--a man of action who arranges nothing, but whose thought and conduct are arranged for him by nature--becomes so polarized and at one with himself that he sheds a sort of glow about him; but whether this glow comes out of his words or from his conduct and words taken together we hardly know. The vehicle is nothing; the man is all. Such unitary natures are rare enough; and Howe, within his own limitations, and while standing over his own tripod with his own peculiar lyre in his hand, is one of them. The outbreak of the war put an end to all those conditions which had been turning human nature inside out during the fifties. It was no longer necessary for idealism to seek its outlet in crime, nor for half-good men to be turned into devils because they had not in them the stuff that makes martyrs. When the war came, the average man found the sacrifice prepared for him in a form which he could understand. He gave himself freely. He gave all he had. There followed such an outpouring of virtue and heroism that the crimes of all humanity might seem to have been wiped out by it; and at the end of the war the United States resumed her place among modern nations, and took up the conventional problems of modern life. During the war Dr. Howe was a member of the Sanitary Commission; and during the remainder of his life he continued to be the greatest authority on everything that concerned organized charity, and probably the most active individual who had ever taken part in such things in the United States.