lines for him to expound, then him reading a few for you to explain,
then both gazing into space with "the infinite cry of finite hearts
that yearn!"

Dear loyal old Jack! How memories stab me as I think of him. It seems
impossible to think of him as other than well and strong and self
reliant. What happy, happy days I have spent with him! They seem to
stand out to-night in one great white spot of cheerfulness. When the
days were the darkest and I couldn't see one inch ahead, Jack would
happen along with a funny story or a joke, would pretend not to see
what was going on, but do some little kindness that would brighten the
way a bit. What a mixture he is of tenderness, and brusqueness, of
common sense and poetry, of fun and seriousness! I think you and I are
the only ones in the world who quite understand his heights and
depths. He says even I don't.



KARUIZAWA, July, 1904.


Since writing you I have had the pleasure of looking six hundred feet
down the throat of Asamayama, the great volcano. If the old lady had
been impolite enough to stick out her tongue, I would at present be a
cinder.

We started at seven in the evening on horseback. Now as you know I
have ridden pretty much everything from a broom stick to a camel, but
for absolute novelty of motion commend me to a Japanese horse. There
is a lurch to larboard, then a lurch to starboard, with a sort of