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the woodland beyond. But none of them owns the landscape. There is a property in the horizon which no man has but he whose eye can integrate all the parts, that is, the poet. This is the best part of these men's farms, yet to this their warranty-deeds give no title. To speak truly, few adult persons can see nature. Most persons do not see the sun. At least they have a very superficial seeing. The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and the heart of the child. The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood. His intercourse with heaven and earth, becomes part of his daily food. In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite

of real sorrows. Nature says, – he is my creature, and mau- .

gre all his impertinent griefs, he shall be glad with me. Not the sun or the summer alone, but every hour and season yields its tribute of delight; for every hour and change corresponds to and authorizes a different state of the mind, from breathless noon to grimmest midnight. Nature is a setting that fits equally well a comic or a mourning piece. In good health, the air is a cordial of incredible virtue. Crossing a bare common, in snow puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky, without having in my thoughts any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration. I am glad to the brink of fear. In the woods too, a man casts off his years, as the snake his slough, and at what period soever of life, is always a child. In the woods, is perpetual youth. Within these plantations of God, a decorum and sanctity reign, a perennial festival is dressed, and the guest sees not how he should tire of them in a thousand years. In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life, – no disgrace, no calamity (leaving me my eyes), which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground, - my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space, — all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eyeball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me ; I am part or particle of God. The name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign and accidental : to be brothers, to be acquaintances, – master or servant, is then a trifle and a disturbance. I am the lover of uncontained and immortal beauty. In the wilderness, I find something more dear and connate than in streets

or villages. In the tranquil landscape, and especially in the distant line of the horizon, man beholds somewhat as beautiful as his own nature. The greatest delight which the fields and woods minister, is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable. I am not alone and unacknowledged. They nod to me, and I to them. The waving of the boughs in the storm, is new to me and old. It takes me by surprise, and yet is not unknown. Its effect is like that of a higher thought or a better emotion coming over me, when I deemed I was thinking justly or doing right. Yet it is certain that the power to produce this delight does not reside in nature, but in man, or in a harmony of both. It is necessary to use these pleasures with great temperance. For, nature is not always tricked in holiday attire, but the same scene which yesterday breathed perfume and glittered as for the frolic of the nymphs, is overspread with melancholy today. Nature always wears the colors of the spirit. To a man laboring under calamity, the heat of his own fire hath sadness in it. Then, there is a kind of contempt of the landscape felt by him who has just lost by death a dear friend. The sky is less grand as it shuts down over less worth in the population.

CHAPTER II.
COMMODITY.

HOEVER considers the final cause of the world, will discern a multitude of uses that enter as parts into that result. They all admit of being thrown into one of the following classes: Commodity; Beauty; Language; and Discipline. Under the general name of Commodity, I rank all those advantages which our senses owe to nature. This, of course, is a benefit which is temporary and mediate, not ultimate, like its service to the soul. Yet although low, it is perfect in its kind, and is the only use of nature which all men apprehend. The misery of man appears like childish petulance, when we explore the steady and prodigal provision that has been made for his support and delight on this green ball which floats him

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through the heavens. What angels invented these splendid ornaments, these rich conveniencies, this ocean of air above, this ocean of water beneath, this firmament of earth between 1 this zodiac of lights, this tent of dropping clouds, this striped coat of climates, this fourfold year ! Beasts, fire, water, stones, and corn serve him. The field is at once his floor, his work

yard, his play-ground, his garden, and his bed.

* More servants wait on man
Than he’ll take notice of.”

Nature, in its ministry to man, is not only the material, but is also the process and the result. All the parts incessantly work into each other's hands for the profit of man. The wind sows the seed; the sun evaporates the sea ; the wind blows the vapor to the field; the ice, on the other side of the planet, condenses rain on this ; the rain feeds the plant; the plant feeds the animal; and thus the endless circulations of the divine charity nourish man.

The useful arts are reproductions or new combinations by the wit of man, of the same natural benefactors. He no longer waits for favoring gales, but by means of steam, he realizes the fable of AEolus's bag, and carries the two-and-thirty winds in the boiler of his boat. To diminish friction, he paves the road with iron bars, and, mounting a coach with a ship-load of men, animals, and merchandise behind him, he darts through the country from town to town, like an eagle or a swallow through the air. By the aggregate of these aids, how is the face of the world changed, from the era of Noah to that of Napoleon The private poor man hath cities, ships, canals, bridges, built for him. He goes to the post-office, and the human race run on his errands; to the book-shop, and the human race read and write of all that happens, for him; to the court-house, and nations repair his wrongs. He sets his house upon the road, and the human race go forth every morning, and shovel out the Snow, and cut a path for him.

But there is no need of specifying particulars in this class of uses. The catalogue is endless, and the examples so obvious, that I shall leave them to the reader's reflection, with the general remark, that this mercenary benefit is one which has respect to a further good. A man is fed, not that he may be fed, but that he may work.

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CHAPTER III.
BEAUTY.

NOBLER want of man is served by nature, namely, the A love of Beauty. The ancient Greeks called the world koopos, beauty. Such is the constitution of all things, or such the plastic power of the human eye, that the primary forms, as the sky, the mountain, the tree, the animal, give us a delight in and for themselves; a pleasure arising from outline, color, motion, and grouping. This seems partly owing to the eye itself. The eye is the best of artists. By the mutual action of its structure and of the laws of light, perspective is produced, which integrates every mass of objects, of what character soever, into a well-colored and shaded globe, so that where the particular objects are mean and unaffecting, the landscape which they compose is round and symmetrical. And as the eye is the best composer, so light is the first of painters. There is no object so foul that intense light will not make beautiful. And the stimulus it affords to the sense, and a sort of infinitude which it hath, like space and time, make all matter gay. Even the corpse has its own beauty. But besides this general grace diffused over nature, almost all the individual forms are agreeable to the eye, as is proved by our endless imitations of some of them, as the acorn, the grape, the pine-cone, the wheat-ear, the egg, the wings and forms of most birds, the lion's claw, the serpent, the butterfly, sea-shells, flames, clouds, buds, leaves, and the forms of many trees, as the palm. For better consideration, we may distribute the aspects of Beauty in a threefold manner. 1. First, the simple perception of natural forms is a delight. The influence of the forms and actions in nature is so needful to man, that, in its lowest functions, it seems to lie on the confines of commodity and beauty. To the body and mind which have been cramped by noxious work or company, nature is medicinal and restores their tone. The tradesman, the attorney comes out of the din and craft of the street, and sees the sky and the woods, and is a man again. In their eternal calm, he finds himself. The health of the eye seems

to demand a horizon. We are never tired, so long as we can
see far enough.
But in other hours, Nature satisfies by its loveliness, and
without any mixture of corporeal benefit. I see the spectacle
of morning from the hill-top over against my house, from day-
break to sunrise, with emotions which an angel might share.
The long slender bars of cloud float like fishes in the sea of
crimson light. From the earth, as a shore, I look out into
that silent sea. I seem to partake its rapid transformations:
the active enchantment reaches my dust, and I dilate and
conspire with the morning wind. How does Nature deify us
with a few and cheap elements Give me health and a day,
and I will make the pomp of emperors ridiculous. The dawn
is my Assyria; the sunset and moonrise my Paphos, and un-
imaginable realms of faerie; broad noon shall be my England
of the senses and the understanding; the night shall be my
Germany of mystic philosophy and dreams.
Not less excellent, except for our less susceptibility in the
afternoon, was the charm, last evening, of a January sunset.
The western clouds divided and subdivided themselves into
pink flakes modulated with tints of unspeakable softness; and
the air had so much life and sweetness, that it was a pain
to come within doors. What was it that nature would say?
Was there no meaning in the live repose of the valley behind
the mill, and which Homer or Shakespeare could not re-form
for me in words! The leafless trees become spires of flame in
the sunset, with the blue east for their background, and the
stars of the dead calices of flowers, and every withered stem
and stubble rimed with frost, contribute something to the
mute music.
The inhabitants of cities suppose that the country land-
scape is pleasant only half the year. I please myself with the
graces of the winter scenery, and believe that we are as much
touched by it as by the genial influences of summer. To the
attentive eye, each moment of the year has its own beauty,
and in the same field, it beholds, every hour, a picture which
was never seen before, and which shall never be seen again.
The heavens change every moment, and reflect their glory or
gloom on the plains beneath. The state of the crop in the
surrounding farms alters the expression of the earth from
week to week. The succession of native plants in the pas-
tures and roadsides, which makes the silent clock by which
time tells the summer hours, will make even the divisions of

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