AND so, said Emerson in the first number of the Dial," with diligent hands and good intent we set down our 'Dial' the earth. We wish it may resemble that instrument in its celebrated happiness, that of measuring no hours but those of sunshine. Let it be one cheerful rational voice amidst the din of mourners and polemics. Or, to abide by our chosen image, let it be such a dial, not as the dead face of a clock -- hardly, even, such as the gnomon in a garden -- but rather such a dial as the garden itself, in whose leaves and flowers and fruits the suddenly awakened sleeper is instantly apprised, not what part of dead time, but what state of life and growth, is now arrived and arriving."
With this sentence, which Rabelais would have set up in gold in his clockless Abbey of Thelema, appeared that magazine which lasted through the morning hours of the movement it registered. It was set upon the earth, and the days were marked by the closing of errors, the unfolding of truths, gently and sweetly as in the floral dial of Linnæus. Some weeds were, indeed, intermingled, but no poisons; and if one would know the spirit of this American movement, let him