EARLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS. 223 
It is seen in the old scripture how wisdom 
is older than the talent of composition. The 
story is as slender as the thread on which pearls 
are strung, it is a spiral line growing more and 
more perplexed till it winds itself up and dies 
like the silk-worm in its cocoon. It seems as if 
the old philosopher could not talk without mov¬ 
ing, and each motion were made the apology or 
occasion for a sentence, but this being found in¬ 
convenient, the fictitious progress of the tale 
was invented. 
The great thoughts of a wise man seem to the 
vulgar who do not generalize to stand far apart 
like isolated mounts, but science knows that the 
mountains which rise so solitary in our midst 
are parts of a great mountain chain, dividing 
the earth, and the eye that looks into the hori¬ 
zon toward the blue Sierra melting away in 
the distance may detect their flow of thought. 
These sentences which take up your common 
life so easily are not seen to run into ridges 
because they are the table land on which the 
spectator stands.That they stand frown¬ 
ing upon one another or mutually reflecting the 
sun’s rays, is proof enough of their common 
basis. 
The boob should be found where the sentence 
is, and its connection be as inartificial. It is 
the inspiration of a day and not of a moment. 
