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A COMPANY of open-eyed, wonder-loving children are walking on the shore of the sea. It is the spring-time; the hour is early morning; the air is redolent with the odor of flowers, and musical with the songs of birds. To these children the world is young, and nature, like their own lives, is full of sweet and hidden mysteries. Before them stretches the great sea a mighty kingdom concealing many a beauty and many a terror—in the contemplation of which their fancy is invited to roam unlimited and Fancy. and unrestrained. Behind them rise mighty mountains,
symbols of king-like power and sublime repose. Above them bends the blue sky-dome, beautiful and fathomless, suggestive of the protection and care which the All-Father bestows upon his children. There is nothing that comes within their vision which does not tend to kindle emotion, to arouse enthusiasm or to encourage the imagination. To their understanding the sea is deep, the mountains are high, the heavens are glorious, the world is very fair. What more should they seek to know? What would they gain by exchanging their childish fancies for the surer methods of the exact sciences, the application of measurements, or a knowledge of mathematics? The sun rising above the mountain-tops is a golden chariot; the rustling of the leaves in the morning breeze is the whispering of dryads among the branches; the murmur of the waves beating upon the shore is the song of sea-nymphs deep down in their ocean caves. Compared with the pleasures derived from such fancies, of what avail is a knowledge of physics, or a study of economics, or all the wisdom which the school-books contain? Then, too, the minds of these children are attuned in harmony with nature's music; they are inspired with lofty thoughts, and the utterances which leap spontaneously from their lips are clothed in the garb of true poetry,
poetry such as the rules of rhetoric and the principles of studied art have never created, and yet full of melody, grace, and beauty.
So was it with the remote ancestors of our race who lived while yet the air of the world's morning was crisp with sweet imaginings, and the music of the spheres still echoed upon the earth. Like