Such reminiscence was usually followed by some vigorous burst of human philosophy, oftentoo vigorous for print, too human, but as dazzling as a search-light inits revelation. Onceto Richard Watson Gilder he sent this line of regrets: In bed with a chest cold and other company--Wednesday. bless you for every beautiful thought you poured into my tired heart, and for every smile on a weary way. What are his tonsils for? They perform no usefulfunction; they have no value.
He told of his recent trip to his boyhood home, and how he had stood withJohn Briggs on Holliday's Hill and they had pointed out the haunts oftheir youth. In that moment--in that memorable moment, I began to crumble. He said: I turn to his books for cheer when I am down-hearted. >From the note-book: The Haunted Looking-glass.
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