that shines clear out of some great source of light which not
every man can uncover. We call this spirit human because it moves
us, quickens a like life in ourselves, makes us glow with a sort
of ardor of self-discovery. It touches the springs of fancy or of
action within us, and makes our own life seem more quick and
vital. We do not call every book that moves us human. Some seem
written with knowledge of the black art, set our base passions
aflame, disclose motives at which we shudder--the more because
we feel their reality and power; and we know that this is of the
devil, and not the fruitage of any quality that distinguishes us
as men. We are distinguished as men by the qualities that mark us
different from the beasts. When we call a thing human we have a
spiritual ideal in mind. It may not be an ideal of that which is
perfect, but it moves at least upon an upland level where the air
is sweet; it holds an image of man erect and constant, going
abroad with undaunted steps, looking with frank and open gaze
upon all the fortunes of his day, feeling even and again--

"...the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused.
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things."

Say what we may of the errors and the degrading sins of our kind,
we do not willingly make what is worst in us the distinguishing
trait of what is human. When we declare, with Bagehot, that the