WouldthatIcouldenrichthissketchwiththenamesofallthosewhohavemiomyhappiness!Someofthemwouldbefoundwritteninourliteratureaotheheartsofmany,whileotherswouldbewhollyunknowntomostofmyreaders.Buttheirinfluehoughitescapesfame,shallliveimmortalinthelivesthathavebeeenedandennobledbyit.Thosearered-letterdaysinourliveswhepeoplewhothrilluslikeafinepoem,peoplewhosehandshakeisbrimfulofunspokensympathy,andwhosesweet,riaturesimpartter,impatientspiritsawonderfulrestfulnesswhiitsessence,isdiviheperplexities,irritationsandworriesthathaveabsorbeduspasslikeunpleasantdreams,andwewaketoseewithneweyesandhearwithhebeautyandharmonyofGodsrealworld.Thesolemnnothingsthatfilloureverydaylifeblossomsuddenlyinthtpossibilities.Inaword,whilesuchfriendsarenearuswefeelthatalliswell.Perhapsweneversawthembefore,andtheymaynevercrossourlifespathagain;buttheinflueheircalm,mellownaturesisalibationpoureduponourdistent,andwefeelitshealingtouch,astheofeelsthemountainstreamfresheningitsbrine.

    Ihaveoftenbeenasked,"Donotpeopleboreyou?"Idonotuandquitewhatthatmeans.Isupposethecallsofthestupidandcurious,especiallyofneerreporters,arealwaysinopportune.Ialsodislikepeoplewhotrytotalkdowntomyuanding.Theyarelikepeoplealkingwithyoutrytoshorteepstosuityours;thehypocrisyinbothcasesisequallyexasperating.

    ThehandsofthoseImeetaredumblyeloquenttome.Thetouehandsisainence.Ihavemetpeoplesoemptyofjoy,thatwhenIclaspedtheirfrostyfiips,itseemedasifIwereshakinghandswithanortheaststorm.Otherstherearewhosehandshavesunbeam