Letters to a Friend 



people being here, Mrs. Carr, makes you "mad," 

 but after all, Mrs. Carr, they are about harm 

 less. They climb sprawlingly to their saddles 

 like overgrown frogs pulling themselves up a 

 stream-bank through the bent sedges, ride up 

 the valley with about as much emotion as the 

 horses they ride upon, and comfortable when 

 they have "done it all," and long for the safety 

 and flatness of their proper homes. 



In your first letter to the valley you com 

 plain of the desecrating influences of the fashion 

 able hordes about to visit here, and say that 

 you mean to come only once more and "into 

 the beyond." I am pretty sure that you are 

 wrong in saying and feeling so, for the tide of 

 visitors will float slowly about the bottom of the 

 valley as a harmless scum, collecting in hotel 

 and saloon eddies, leaving the rocks and falls 

 eloquent as ever and instinct with imperishable 

 beauty and greatness. And recollect that the 

 top of the valley is more than half way to real 

 heaven, and the Lord has many mansions away 

 in the Sierra equal in power and glory to Yo- 

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