to man as its opposite did according to the old theologies. But how to
let one's self down from the high level of such a character to one's own
poor standard? I trust that the influence of this long intellectual and
spiritual companionship never absolutely leaves one who has lived in it.
It may come to him in the form of self-reproach that he falls so far
short of the superior being who has been so long the object of his
contemplation. But it also carries him at times into the other's
personality, so that he finds himself thinking thoughts that are not his
own, using phrases which he has unconsciously borrowed, writing, it may
be, as nearly like his long-studied original as Julio Romano's painting
was like Raphael's; and all this with the unquestioning conviction that
he is talking from his own consciousness in his own natural way. So far
as tones and expressions and habits which belonged to the idiosyncrasy of
the original are borrowed by the student of his life, it is a misfortune
for the borrower. But to share the inmost consciousness of a noble
thinker, to scan one's self in the white light of a pure and radiant
soul,--this is indeed the highest form of teaching and discipline.

I have written these few memoirs, and I am grateful for all that they
have taught me. But let me write no more. There are but two biographers
who can tell the story of a man's or a woman's life. One is the person
himself or herself; the other is the Recording Angel. The autobiographer
cannot be trusted to tell the whole truth, though he may tell nothing but
the truth, and the Recording Angel never lets his book go out of his own
hands. As for myself, I would say to my friends, in the Oriental phrase,
"Live forever!" Yes, live forever, and I, at least, shall not have to
wrong your memories by my imperfect record and unsatisfying commentary.

In connection with these biographies, or memoirs, more properly, in which
I have written of my departed friends, I hope my readers will indulge me