Admiration—the power of discerning and taking delight in what is beautiful in visible Form, and lovely in human Character; and, necessarily, striving to produce what is beautiful in form, and to become what is lovely in character. Hope—the recognition, by true Foresight, of better things to be reached hereafter, whether by ourselves or others; necessarily issuing in the straightforward and undisappointable effort to advance, according to our proper power, the gaining of them. Love, both of family and neighbor, faithful, and satisfied. These are the six chiefly useful things to be got by Political Economy—the great “savoir mourir” is doing with them. The first three, I said, are Pure Air, Water, and Earth. Heaven gives you the main elements of these. You can destroy them at your pleasure, or increase, almost without limit, the available quantities of them. You can vitiate the air by your manner of life, and of death, to any extent. You might easily vitiate it so as to bring such a pestilence on the globe as would end all of you. Some of you Jingo Americans at present want to vitiate it in every direction;—chiefly with corpses, and animal and vegetable ruin in war: changing men, horses, and garden-stuff into noxious gas. But everywhere, and all day long, you are vitiating it with foul chemical exhalations; and the horrible nests, which you call towns, Buffalo, Pittsburg, Chicago and the like (thank God I’ve been in none of them), are little more than laboratories for the distillation into heaven of venomous smokes and smells, mixed with effluvia from decaying animal matter, and infectious miasmata from purulent disease. On the other hand, your power of purifying the air, by dealing properly and swiftly with all substances in corruption; by absolutely forbidding noxious manufactures; and by planting in all soils the trees which cleanse and invigorate earth and atmosphere—is literally infinite. You might make every breath of air you draw, food. Secondly, your power over the rain and rain-waters of the earth is infinite. You can bring rain where you will, by planting wisely and tending carefully—drought, where you will, by ravage of woods and neglect of the soil. You might have the rivers as pure as the crystal of the rock; beautiful in falls, in lakes, in living pools—so full of fish that you might take them out with your hands. Or you may do always as you have done now, turn your rivers into a common sewer, so that you cannot as much as baptize a Yankee baby but with filth, unless you hold its face out in the rain; and even that falls dirty.