The mountains are more human to me than any other exhibition of inorganic nature; they are indeed presences. There must be something like them in heaven. I go down to-morrow, to hotel-life for a week or so, but the peace and strength of the hills will remain in my heart. Beverly, October 17, 1891. These last three weeks,--these last three days, especially,--have been so full! I have lived more in them, in the very deepest part of my life, than in as many years, often. The consecration of a bishop whose ministry has been more to my spiritual life than that of any other minister; the joy of knowing him as a friend; the sorrow of losing him as a minister; the thankfulness that I may be counted in as one of his people still, to work in his larger field with him; the certainty that God has called him to do more than ever for the coming of His Kingdom: it is a great flood of regret and triumph that has been flowing through me, and that fills me still. I am full of tears and song; I never felt life so real and so deep. It is like setting sail on the grandest voyage of hope, with a chosen spirit of God at the helm, and all of us full of the inspiration of his life and faith. I was glad to sit a little aside at the Consecration Service, and feel more than I could see, though I saw all the best of it,--that grand manhood in the midst of white-robed clergy and bishops, one with it all, and yet so superior to it all, the great humble man, bowed among his brethren, to receive his new office! And I shall never forget my first glimpse of him in his new character, with the Communion cup in his hand, a token of service yet to be rendered; Christ’s life still to be poured out for his brethren through his own. So may our lives all be enlarged and strengthened with his, to serve our Master better, in a wider and deeper service of humankind! TO J. G. WHITTIER. BEVERLY, February 24, 1892. ... The thought of a present God, who is a personal Friend to every Soul, has always haunted me, and of late years has become more real and close. It seems to me that all truth and peace and hope centre there. It gives new meaning to immortality, and to this life as the beginning of an immortal one. Every year it seems a happier thing to be alive, and to know that I cannot die. Through _thee_, my friend, I have come to see this very slowly. I have always thought of thee as a spiritual teacher. And then of late years to have had in addition the teachings and friendship of Phillips Brooks has been a great and true help. I thank God that you two men live, and “will always live,” as he says to you, and that I have known you both. When he called at Mrs. Spalding’s after seeing you, he told us about the Ary Scheffer poem, and repeated it to us from the words “O heart of mine,” through to the end, as he went away, standing before the picture,--“Christus Consolator,” which hangs at her parlor door.... TO THE SAME.