bailey] the great LOVER 47 



In every reality lies the germ of your soul. In every one is an 

 idea, expanding itself into a far look, into a flight of fancy, I hope 

 expressing itself in a poem even if unwritten, building itself into 

 ypur desire and power to teach. 



Very precious are all these things. There is a divinity in them 

 that challenges the best that any man or any woman has to 

 give. Not long ago, freed on the bosom of the ocean, sailing 

 across the tropics, I found the experiences of my many crowded 

 years overwhelming me, solidifying themselves in my mind, and 

 I wrote. What I wrote I called The Holy Earth. To judge from 

 what I read and what they tell me, my readers seem to find in my 

 writing only a vivid enthusiasm for the out-of-doors, and yet I 

 attempted nothing less than a philosophy of life. Still do I feel 

 the responsibilities of that philosophy and still shall I write. 

 It is difficult to open the eyes to the natiire in which we live. 



A year ago I gave you my estimate of the contribution that the 

 science-spirit may make to a democracy. Those remarks must 

 have sounded strange to those who now contend that the free 

 introduction of natural science into schools and colleges has 

 resulted in the deterioration of character. So far as such e\ ils 

 have followed, it is not that science is inadequate to the highest 

 results in hiiman character, but rather than we have not yet 

 learned how to use the vast treasures of fact and application that 

 have avalanched us. We shall learn in due time that science 

 is not merely a handmaiden to industry but that it may expand 

 the soul. 



Today, therefore, I come with poems in my hand. Today I 

 would hear the heart beat. Today would I encourage you to 

 every quest of science, to every minuteness and exactness of 

 investigation, to every effort in the teaching of the young; but 

 I would add to this the courage of the free spirit, the hope of the 

 high look, the uttermost call of the soul. No bounds would I set 

 to your fancy. I give you the reins, and I let you drive. I hope 

 that the fancy which leaps from the very concrete to the very 

 abstract will be precious to you. Fear not to prophesy. 



