Remarkable trait in the American Character is the union, not very infrequent, of Yankee cleverness with spiritualism.

What art can paint or gild any object in after life with the glow which nature gives to the first baubles of childhood? St. Peter's cannot have the magical power over us that the red and gold covers of our first picture-book possessed.

No member of a crew is praised for the rugged individuality of his rowing.

We may climb into the thin and cold realm of pure geometry and lifeless science, or sink into that of sensation. Between these extremes is the equator of life, of thought, or spirit, or poetry,--a narrow belt.

So far as a person thinks; they are free.

The gates of thought, - how slow and late they discover themselves! Yet when they appear, we see that they were always there, always open.

I cannot forgive a scholar his homeless despondency.