I would beat with the living heart of the world, and understand all the moods, even the fancies or fantasies, of nature.  I dare to trust to the interpreting spirit to bring me out all right at last,—­establish truth through error.

Whether this be the best way is of no consequence, if it be the one individual character points out.

  For one, like me, it would be vain
  From glittering heights the eyes to strain;
  I the truth can only know,
  Tested by life’s most fiery glow. 
  Seeds of thought will never thrive,
  Till dews of love shall bid them live.

Let me stand in my age with all its waters flowing round me.  If they sometimes subdue, they must finally upbear me, for I seek the universal,—­and that must be the best.

The Spirit, no doubt, leads in every movement of my time:  if I seek the How, I shall find it, as well as if I busied myself more with the Why.

Whatever is, is right, if only men are steadily bent to make it so, by comprehending and fulfilling its design.

May not I have an office, too, in my hospitality and ready sympathy?  If I sometimes entertain guests who cannot pay with gold coin, with “fair rose nobles,” that is better than to lose the chance of entertaining angels unawares.

You, my three friends, are held, in heart-honor, by me.  You, especially, Good Sense, because where you do not go yourself, you do not object to another’s going, if he will.  You are really liberal.  You, Old Church, are of use, by keeping unforgot the effigies of old religion, and reviving the tone of pure Spenserian sentiment, which this time is apt to stifle in its childish haste.  But you are very faulty in censuring and wishing to limit others by your own standard.  You, Self-Poise, fill a priestly office.  Could but a larger intelligence of the vocations of others, and a tender sympathy with their individual natures, be added, had you more of love, or more of apprehensive genius, (for either would give you the needed expansion and delicacy,) you would command my entire reverence.  As it is, I must at times deny and oppose you, and so must others, for you tend, by your influence, to exclude us from our full, free life.  We must be content when you censure, and rejoiced when you approve; always admonished to good by your whole being, and sometimes by your judgment.

* * * * *

Do not blame me that I have written so much suggested by the German seeress, while you were looking for news of the West.  Here on the pier, I see disembarking the Germans, the Norwegians, the Swedes, the Swiss.  Who knows how much of old legendary lore, of modern wonder, they have already planted amid the Wisconsin forests?  Soon, their tales of the origin of things, and the Providence which rules them, will be so mingled with those of the Indian, that the very oak-tree will not know them apart,—­will not know whether itself be a Runic, a Druid, or a Winnebago oak.