imit that which is divine. He is capable of being touched,
played on, by all the phases and forces of the universe surrounding
him. He is an instrument of ten thousand strings; and marvellous may be
the music of his life.

First, he should be as complete an animal as possible. Then he should
develop himself as a being capable of thinking, of knowing. How many
men are there that take possession of the intellectual realm that lies
around them on every hand? Just think. Let me hint suggestions,
illustrations, in one or two directions. A man goes out for a walk in
the park, or, better yet, into the country. The park is too artificial,
perhaps, to carry just the meaning that I have in mind. Let it be a
walk in the country, then. How much do the grasses and the flowers have
to say to him?

I have a friend in Washington, a famous botanist, a botanist not only
of all things that live and grow to-day, but who has pushed his
researches back and down into the prehistoric ages so as to understand
and explain the records, the prints, the leaves and twigs, the forms of
every kind that are on the rocks and left to tell the story of a life
that has passed away many thousands on thousands of years ago. How much
of all this marvellous realm, or even a suggestion of it, is revealed
to the ordinary man as he walks through the field?

Look in the direction of geology a moment. Here is a river course; here
is the shape of a hill top; do they say anything to the ordinary man
who walks with his head down, and occupied with some problem of Wall
Street, perhaps? Here are marvels of creative power. God shaped the
slope of that hill as really as though he smoothed it down with his
hand. And he who understands the methods of world building, of
landscape-sculpture, may stand in wonder and awe and reverence before
the forces that have been at work for millions of years, and are at
work the same to-day. How many men have even a conception of the
wonders of the microscopic world? To how many men do the star have
anything to say at night? A man looks at a bowlder, unlike any other
rock there is to be found anywhere in the neighborhood, and perhaps he
does not even ask a question about it; while a man who has made a
careful study of these things sees spring up before him in his
imagination that long ice age before man lived on the planet, when this
bowlder was swept from some far-off place by the glacial power,
deposited where it is, scraped on its su