No More Learning

The walker is guided as well by the sense of
smell. Every plant and field and forest emits its odor now, swamp-pink
in the meadow and tansy in the road; and there is the peculiar dry
scent of corn which has begun to show its tassels. The senses both of
hearing and smelling are more alert. We hear the tinkling of rills
which we never detected before. From time to time, high up on the
sides of hills, you pass through a stratum of warm air, a blast which
has come up from the sultry plains of noon. It tells of the day, of
sunny noontide hours and banks, of the laborer wiping his brow and the
bee humming amid flowers. It is an air in which work has been
done,--which men have breathed. It circulates about from woodside to
hillside like a dog that has lost its master, now that the sun is
gone. The rocks retain all night the warmth of the sun which they have
absorbed. And so does the sand. If you dig a few inches into it you
find a warm bed. You lie on your back on a rock in a pasture on the
top of some bare hill at midnight, and speculate on the height of the
starry canopy. The stars are the jewels of the night, and perchance
surpass anything which day has to show. A companion with whom I was
sailing one very windy but bright moonlight night, when the stars were
few and faint, thought that a man could get along with _them_, though
he was considerably reduced in his circumstances,--that they were a
kind of bread and cheese that never failed.

No wonder that there have been astrologers, that some have conceived
that they were personally related to particular stars.
Dubartas, as
translated by Sylvester, says he'll

"not believe that the great architect
With all these fires the heavenly arches decked
Only for show, and with these glistering shields,
T' awake poor shepherds, watching in the fields. "
He'll "not believe that the least flower which pranks
Our garden borders, or our common banks,
And the least stone, that in her warming lap
Our mother earth doth covetously wrap,
Hath some peculiar virtue of its own,
And that the glorious stars of heav'n have none. "

And Sir Walter Raleigh well says, "The stars are instruments of far
greater use than to give an obscure light, and for men to gaze on
after sunset;" and he quotes Plotinus as affirming that they "are
significant, but not efficient;" and also Augustine as saying, "_Deus
regit inferiora corpora per superiora_:" God rules the bodies below by
those above. But best of all is this which another writer has
expressed: "_Sapiens adjuvabit opus astrorum quemadmodum agricola
terrae naturam_:" a wise man assisteth the work of the stars as the
husbandman helpeth the nature of the soil.

It does not concern men who are asleep in their beds, but it is very
important to the traveler, whether the moon shines brightly or is
obscured. It is not easy to realize the serene joy of all the earth,
when she commences to shine unobstructedly, unless you have often been
abroad alone in moonlight nights. She seems to be waging continual war
with the clouds in your behalf. Yet we fancy the clouds to be _her_
foes also. She comes on magnifying her dangers by her light,
revealing, displaying them in all their hugeness and blackness, then
suddenly casts them behind into the light concealed, and goes her way
triumphant through a small space of clear sky.

In short, the moon traversing, or appearing to traverse, the small
clouds which lie in her way, now obscured by them, now easily
dissipating and shining through them, makes the drama of the moonlight
night to all watchers and night-travelers. Sailors speak of it as the
moon eating up the clouds. The traveler all alone, the moon all alone,
except for his sympathy, overcoming with incessant victory whole
squadrons of clouds above the forests and lakes and hills. When she is
obscured he so sympathizes with her that he could whip a dog for her
relief, as Indians do. When she enters on a clear field of great
extent in the heavens, and shines unobstructedly, he is glad. And when
she has fought her way through all the squadron of her foes, and rides
majestic in a clear sky unscathed, and there are no more any
obstructions in her path, he cheerfully and confidently pursues his
way, and rejoices in his heart, and the cricket also seems to express
joy in its song.

How insupportable would be the days, if the night with its dews and
darkness did not come to restore the drooping world.