ut a tonic, a stimulant. You taught me
that hope must live in the heart, because hope is knowledge wrapped up
in our subconsciousness, and spilling rays of light through the
wrappings. You gave me the glorious advice not to waste life, which
must be lived, by trying to kill Time, making him die a dull death at
bedtime every night, but to run hand in hand with him--run wherever he
might be going, because things worth while might be ready to happen
round the very next bend of the future.

"This was the lesson I needed most, because I'd forgotten that if there
was no intimate personal joy left for me in this world, there was for
others; and even I might help them to find it, by having the bright
courage of my imagination, instead of the dull courage of convictions.

"You made me believe (even though I can't always live up to the belief)
that when we are horribly unhappy, we're only seeing a beautiful,
bright landscape reflected gray-green, in our own little cracked and
dusty mirror, distorted in its cramped frame. While Mother was ill, and
other troubles pressed on me heavily, I often reminded myself of those
words of yours, in a many-times-read letter; and I tried to turn my
eyes away from the poor cracked mirror, dim with the dust which I had
stupidly thought was the dust of my own destiny; tried to look instead
at the clear truth of things.

"In the same letter (one of those I treasure most; for I've kept all,
and always shall keep them) you gave me another thought that has done
me good. You said it had only just come to you as you wrote to me. Do
you remember? You were wondering if our Real Selves (the 'realities
behind the Things' you've spoken of so often) exist uninterruptedly on
the Etheric Plane, to be joined there by the souls of the earthbound
selves, each time they finish with their bodies. 'Imagine the soul
arriving from earth, pouring its new experiences into the mind of its
Real Self,' you said, 'and receiving in return memories of all it had
ever lived through, learning the reason _why_ of every sorrow and joy,
and never quite forgetting, though it might think it had forgotten.'

"Oh, I thank you, my friend, for every mental growing pain you have
given me! Instead of forgetting what I owed you, in those weeks of
silence, I realized it all more and more, and resolved to be worthier
of my lessons when the strain on my new strength increased, as it is
bound to do, with mother gone. I shall try, that's all I