exoteric, but the exoteric excludes the
esoteric.

"The man can move all faculties, organs, limbs; but they cannot move
the man.

"The Creator moves the creature, and the creature moves the created.

"We know God by looking towards Him with the single eye.

"To-morrow I go with R. W. Emerson to Harvard to see Lane and Alcott,
and shall stay until Sunday. We shall not meet each other, for I can
meet him on no other grounds than those of love. We may talk
intellectually together, and remark, and reply, and remark again."

We give the reader from the diary the following estimate of a
transcendentalist, mainly to serve as a background for the picture
which Isaac Hecker drew of his own mind in the succeeding pages:

"June 14.--A transcendentalist is one who has keen sight but little
warmth of heart; who has fine conceits but is destitute of the rich
glow of love. He is _en rapport_ with the spiritual world,
unconscious of the celestial one. He is all nerve and no
blood--colorless. He talks of self-reliance, but fears to trust
himself to love. He never abandons himself to love, but is always on
the lookout for some new fact. His nerves are always tight-stretched,
like the string of a bow; his life is all effort. In a short period
he loses his tone. Behold him sitting on a chair; he is not sitting,
but braced upon its angles, as if his bones were of iron and his
nerves steel; every nerve is drawn, his hands are closed like a
miser's--it is his lips and head that speak, not his tongue and
heart. He prefers talking about love to possessing it, as he prefers
Socrates to Jesus. Nature is his church, and he is his own god. He is
a dissecting critic--heartless, cold. What would excite love and
sympathy in another, excites in him curiosity and interest. He would
have written an essay on the power of the soul at the foot of the
Cross. . . .

"That the shaping of events is not wholly in our own hands my present
unanticipated movement has clearly demonstrated to me. . . I know of
no act that I could make which would have more influence to shape my
destiny than my union with the Catholic Church. . . . It is very
certain to me that my life is now as it never has been. It seems that
I live, feel, and act from my heart. That reads, talks, hears, sees,
smells, and all. All is unity with me, all love. Instead of exciting
thoughts and ideas, as all things have done heretofore, they now
excite love, cheerful emotion, and gladness of h