In April 1882 My Father Died; And

I Saw Deep In The Eyes Of The Animals, The Human Soul Look Out Upon Me.

With My Somewhat Vague Aspiring Mind, To Be Imprisoned In The Rude Details Of A Most Material Life Was Often Irksome.

I Might Have Simply Settled Down Into An Armchair Literary Life. I Really Don't Know Exactly Why I Didn't.

And Where There Had Been Only Jeers Or Taunts At First, Crowds Came To Listen With Serious And Sympathetic Mien.

Do Not Think Too Much Of The Dead Husk Of Your Friend, Or Mourn Too Much Over It, But Send Your Thoughts Out Towards The Real Soul Or Self Which Has Escaped — To Reach It. For So, Surely You Will Cast A Light Of Gladness Upon His Onward Journey, And Contribute Your Part Towards The Building Of That Kingdom Of Love Which Links Our Earth To Heaven.