Letters to a Friend 



again suddenly from the bottom like spray from 

 a waterfall. O dear! I wish you were here. I 

 may write this cloud glory forevermore but 

 never be able to picture it for you. 



Doctor and Priest in Yosemite. Emerson 

 prophesies in similar dialect that I will one day 

 go to him and ''better men" in New England, 

 or something to that effect. I feel like objecting 

 in popular slang that I can't see it. I shall in 

 deed go gladly to the "Atlantic Coast," as 

 he prophesies, but only to see him and the 

 Glacier Ghosts of the north. Runkle wants 

 to make a teacher of me, but I have been too 

 long wild, too befogged and befogged to burn 

 well in their patent high-heated educational 

 furnaces. 



[A portion missing.] 



I had a good letter from Le Conte. He evi 

 dently does n't know what to think of the huge 

 lumps of ice that I sent him. I don't wonder at 

 his cautious withholding of judgment. When 

 my mountain mother first told me the tale, I 

 could hardly dare to believe either, and kept 

 [ 152] 



