In a cabinet of natural history, we become sensible of a certain occult recognition and sympathy in regard to the most unwieldly and eccentric forms of beast, fish, and insect. The American who has been confined, in his own country, to the sight of buildings designed after foreign models, is surprised on entering York Minster or St. Peter's at Rome, by the feeling that these structures are imitations also, faint copies of an invisible archetype. A perception of this mystery inspires the muse of George Herbert, the beautiful psalmist of the seventeenth century. The following lines are part of his little poem on Man. Full of proportions, one limb to another, And to all the world besides.
Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they Find their acquaintance there.
Music and light attend our head. Than he'll take notice of. In every path, He treads down that which doth befriend him When sickness makes him pale and wan. Man is one world, and hath Another to attend him. The perception of this class of truths makes the attraction which draws men to science, but the end is lost sight of in attention to the means.