Jan. 29, 1900, Roxbury,
Monday morning.
Dear Dr. Abbott:
I shall stay at home this morning--so I shall not see you.
All the same I want to thank you again for the four sermons:
and to say that I am sure they will work lasting good for the
congregation.
More than this. I think you ought to think that such an
opportunity to go from church to church and city to
city--gives you a certain opportunity and honour--which even
in Plymouth Pulpit a man does not have--and to congregations
such a turning over the new leaf means a great deal.
Did you ever deliver the Lectures on Preaching at New Haven?
With Love always,
Always yours,
E. E. Hale.
[11] From "Silhouettes of My Contemporaries," by Lyman Abbott.
Copyright, 1921, by Doubleday, Page & Co.
From Friedrich Nietzsche to Karl Fuchs:[12]
Sils-Maria, Oberengadine, Switzerland,
June 30, 1888.
My dear Friend:
How strange! How strange! As soon as I was able to transfer
myself to a cooler clime (for in Turin the thermometer stood
at 31 day after day) I intended to write you a nice letter of
thanks. A pious intention, wasn't it? But who could have
guessed that I was not only going back to a cooler clime, but
into the _most ghastly_ weather, weather that threatened to
shatter my health! Winter and summer in senseless alternation;
twenty-six avalanches in the thaw; and now we have just had
eight days of rain with the sky almost always grey--this is
enough to account for my profound nervous exhaustion, together
with the return of my old ailments. I don't think I can ever
remember having had worse weather, and this in my Sils-Maria,
whither I always fly in order to escape bad weather. Is it to
be wondered at that even the parson here is acquiring the
habit of swearing? From time to time in conversation his
speech halts, and then he always swallows a curse. A few days
ago, just as he was coming out of the snow-covered church, he
thrashed his dog and exclaimed: "The confounded cur spoiled
the whole of my sermon!"...
Yours in gratitude and devotion,
Nietzsche.
[12] From "Selecte
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