tions? Emerson denies it. He says: "Then, in a moment, and unannounced, the truth appears. A certain wandering light appears, and is the distinction, the principle we wanted. But the oracle comes because we had previously laid siege to the shrine. It seems as if the law of the intellect resembled that law of Nature by which we now inspire, now expire the breath; by which the heart now draws in, then hurls out the blood—the law of undulation. So now you must labor with your brains, and now you must forbear your activity, and see what the great Soul showeth."
Emerson declares that "we are all wise; the difference between persons is not in wisdom, but in art." "Each truth that a writer acquires is a lantern, which he turns full on what facts and thoughts lay already in his mind, and behold. all the mats and rubbish which had littered his garret become precious. Every trivial fact in his private biography becomes an illustration of this new principle, revisits the day, and delights all men by its piquancy and new charm. Men say, Where did he get this? And think there was something divine in his life. But no; they have myriads of facts just as good, would they only get a lamp to ransack their attics withal."
He illustrates: "If you gather apples in the sunshine, or make hay, or hoe corn, and then retire within doors, and shut your eyes, and press them with your hand, you shall still see apples hanging in the bright light, with boughs and leaves thereto, or the tasseled grass or the corn-flags, and this for five or six hours after-
