Letters to a Friend 



you must not heed him so much. He thinks that 

 I am melancholy and above all that I require 

 polishing. I feel sure that if you were here to 

 see how happy I am and how ardently I am 

 seeking a knowledge of the rocks, you could not 

 call me away but would gladly let me go with 

 only God and his written rocks to guide me. 

 You would not think of calling me to make 

 machines or a home, or of rubbing me against 

 other minds, or of setting me up for measure 

 ment. No, dear friend, you would say: "Keep 

 your mind untrammelled and pure. Go unfric- 

 tioned, unmeasured, and God give you the 

 true meaning and interpretation of his moun 



tains." 



You know that for the last three years I have 

 been ploddingly making observations about this 

 valley and the high mountain region to the east 

 of it, drifting broodingly about and taking in 

 every natural lesson that I was fitted to absorb. 

 In particular the great valley has always kept 

 a place in my mind. What tools did he use? 

 How did he apply them and when? I consid- 

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