EMERSON'S Lehrjahre were now over, and his brief Wanderjahr was about to begin. He had passed through the only episode in his life which in the least savoured of spiritual crisis. Even this character, in so far as it belonged at all to his resignation of his charge, was purely accidental and external. It need not have happened but for others; his own development had never been arrested or diverted; he had travelled quietly on his original line. He had ever followed wisdom as one follows an art or science: it was no more a requisite for him "to adore what he had burned, and to burn what he had adored," than for the young artist at a given period of his career to burn his pencils, or for the young astronomer to shatter his telescope. If he had been taxed with the lack of such experience as befell Paul on the road to Damascus, he might have replied with Paul on another occasion, "I was born free." He had not, like Shelley, prematurely taken up ground which he found himself unable to maintain; nor had he, like Newman, surrendered himself to a current whose inevitable direction he long mistook. He needed no conversion, only a new atmosphere to foster such tendencies of his mind as had failed to receive due nutriment at home.