That comfortable philosophy which modern
transcendentalism has but dimly shadowed forth--that poetic
agrarianism, which gives all to each and each to all--is the real
life of this city of unwork. To each of its dingy dwellers might
be not unaptly applied the language of one who, I trust, will
pardon me for quoting her beautiful poem in this connection:--
"Other hands may grasp the field and forest,
Proud proprietors in pomp may shine,
. . . . . . .
Thou art wealthier,--all the world is thine."(2)
(1) Alexander Gordon Laing was a major in the British army,
who served on the west coast of Africa and made journeys into
the interior in the attempt to establish commercial relations
with the natives, and especially to discover the sources of the
Niger. He was treacherously murdered in 1826 by the guard
that was attending him on his return from Timbuctoo to the
coast. His travels excited great interest in their day in England
and America.
(2) From a poem, *Why Thus Longing?* by Mrs. Harriet
Winslow Sewall, preserved in Whittier's *Songs of Three
Centuries.*
But look! the clouds are breaking. "Fair weather cometh out
of the north." The wind has blown away the mists; on the
gilded spire of John Street glimmers a beam of sunshine; and
there is the sky again, hard, blue, and cold in its eternal purity,
not a whit the worse for the storm.
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