I’ve had a glorious season of forest grace, notwithstanding the hundred cañons I’ve crossed, and the innumerable gorges, gulches, and avalanchal corrugations.
A day or two of resting and lingering in my dear old haunts, and then down-town work.
I’m sorry about Keith’s stocks. Though of scarce any real consequence, they yet serve to perturb and spoil his best moods and works.
It seems a whole round season since I saw you, but have I not seen the King Sequoia in forest glory?
Love to all.
John Muir.
1418 Taylor St., San Francisco,
April 3, 1876.
We will all be glad to see you. We all heard of the outrage committed on Johnnie and hope it might not be so serious as made to appear in the press. Mr. Swett told me the other day that he met a friend down town who was acquainted with the Whites intimately, who gave it as his opinion that Mr. White was insane, had a brother in the asylum, and he was as jealous of a half-dozen other persons as of Johnnie.
If I knew Ned’s boarding-house, I would visit him, for I know he must feel terribly agitated. The last time I saw him, he was rejoicing over Johnnie’s steady manly development, like an old fond father over some reformed son.