the nerve as well as greet the eye; and the man consequently becomes highly amenable to his own belief.  The primary question respecting men is this,—­How far are they affected by the original axiomatic truths?  Truths are like the winds.  Near the earth’s surface winds blow in variable directions, and the weathercock becomes the type of fickleness.  So there is a class of little truths, dependent upon ever-variable relations, with which it is the function of cunning, shrewdness, tact, to deal, and numbers of men seldom or never lift their heads above this weathercock region.  Yet the upper air, alike of the spiritual and the physical atmosphere, has its perpetual currents, unvarying as the revolution of the globe or the sailing of constellations; and these fail not to represent themselves by eternal tradewinds upon the surface of our planet and of our life.  Now the grand inquiry about any man is,—­Does he belong to the great current, or to the lesser ones?  He appertains to the great in proportion to his access to principles.  Or we may illustrate by another analogy a distinction, of importance so emphatic.  The Arctic voyagers find two descriptions of ice.  The field-ice spreads over vast spaces, and moves with immense power; but goes with the wind and the surface-flow.  The bergs, on the contrary, sit deep, are bedded in the mighty under-currents; and when the field-ice was crashing down with tide and storm, Dr. Kane found these heroes holding their steady inevitable way in the teeth of both.  Thus may one discover men who are very massive, very powerful, engrossing such enormous spaces that there hardly seems room in the world for anybody else; but they are Field-ice Men; they represent with gigantic force the impulse of the hour.  But there is another class, making, perhaps, little show upon the surface, or making it by altitude alone, who represent the grand circulations of law, the orbital courses of truth.  It is a question of depth, of penetration.  And depth, be it observed, secures unity; diversity, contrariety, contention are of the surface.  Numbers need not concern us, whether one hundred, or one hundred millions, provided all are imbedded in the central, commanding truths of the human consciousness.  And if the Man of the New World be characteristically one who will attach himself to the eternal master-tides, that fact alone fits him for his place.

Of course no sane man would intimate that organization alone can bring about such results.  The Arabian horse will hardly manufacture a Saladin for his back.  But let the Saladin be given, and this marvel of nerve and muscle will multiply his presence,—­will, as it were, give two selves.  So, if the Teutonic man who comes to our shores were innately empty or mean, this nervous intensity would only ripen his meanness, or make his inanity obstreperous.  But in so far as he has real depth of nature, this radical organization will aid him, quickening by its heat what is deepest within him; and when he turns his face toward principles,