AFebJruar'yPih9iT' }      Letter  from  John  Uri  Lloyd.  77 
present  even  the  high  lights  of  a  biography  of  Professor  Joseph 
P.  Remington.  I  have  recorded  but  a  touch  of  what  came  to  me 
in  the  passing  along  of  a  discursive  letter,  as  thought  crushed  upon 
thought,  event  upon  event,  opportunity  close  following  opportunity 
in  the  direction  of  what  I  felt  needs  be  said,  and  yet  for  lack  of 
space,  could  not  be  said.  Painful  though  it  is  to  fiiink  that  I  am 
writing  this  letter  during  what  may  possibly  be  the  closing  period  of 
the  life  of  this  companion  and  friend,  it  is  yet  a  melancholy  pleasure 
to  feel  that  I  am  not  passing  the  bounds  of  prudence.  All  I  have 
said  and  more  will  be  felt  by  others  who  were  more  fortunate, 
others  who  were  in  daily  touch  with  Professor  Remington,  as  it 
was  not  my  privilege  to  be,  and  who  may  not,  as  do  I,  assume  the 
responsibility  of  intruding  a  personal  letter. 
Strange  how  insidiously  Time  moves  us  in  and  out.  Of  those 
close  in  the  companionship  of  Professor  Remington  and  myself  in 
days  long  gone  by,  very,  very  few  are  living. 
May  I  not  close  this  letter  with  a  sentence  from  "  The  Code  of 
Manu  "— 
"  As  drifting  logs  of  wood  may  haply  meet 
On  ocean's  waters  surging  to  and  fro, 
And  having  met,  drift'  once  again  apart, 
So,  fleeting,  is  the  intercourse  of  men. 
"  E'en  as  a  traveller  meeting  with  the  shade 
Of  some  o'erhung  tree,  awhile  reposes, 
Then  leaves  its  shelter  to  pursue  his  way, 
So  men  meet  friends,  then  part  with  them  forever." 
Sincerely  yours, 
John  Uri  Lloyd. 
Cincinnati,  O.,  December  29,  1917. 
