Letter from Louie Strentzel to [John Muir], 1879 Aug 12.
[4] Mother was very unwell all during the month of July. She was not able to ride, or to take any care of household affairs for over five weeks, and we often felt very anxious about her – but this week she is improving rapidly has taken two short rides, and begins to look quite like herself again. O...
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Scholarly Commons
1879
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| Online Access: | https://scholarlycommons.pacific.edu/muir-correspondence/498 https://scholarlycommons.pacific.edu/context/muir-correspondence/article/1497/viewcontent/muir03_1133_md_1.pdf |
| Summary: | [4] Mother was very unwell all during the month of July. She was not able to ride, or to take any care of household affairs for over five weeks, and we often felt very anxious about her – but this week she is improving rapidly has taken two short rides, and begins to look quite like herself again. Of course I could not leave to visit San Francisco; and what with a new Celestial cook; and many friends calling to see mamma, and others to see the century plant, and a few to stay awhile; I have sometimes felt just a little more tired than was good for me. Little Helen has not yet made the promised visit, but she wrote to me, the most cunning little letter in plain print, and we will send for 00862 [1][in margin: Address my letters, L. W. Strentzel.] Alhambra, August 12, 1879.Dear John, What reward think you should be given me for these long weeks wherein I have kept silence and left you untroubled of all wild dread and the restless longing that can be with a foolish woman who has not learned to be brave, who has so many times failed to abide in the dear light of patience! Ah me! and at first I was so happy with thinking of your delight in that fair new world. I dreamed of the grand mountains white and pure forever, of marvelous glaciers, and “fresh hopeful forests” growing up to the rhythm of the[Page 2][2]wind and the sea, and the bonnie wild roses were sweet as the first in Eden’s garden. But other days brought only the shadow of dim pathless woods, with treacherous swamps and low- lurking Indians, stealthy and cruel — O Beloved, I could not bear it! save for the thought that God loves you. Surely He will lead you ever in blessed ways, and His angels will guard you with- out ceasing, that no evil may befall you. Yet sometimes I lose faith, and then Alaska, though infinitely better than that “Wilderness of shadows”, seems so far, so far away, and become a part of the awful Silence of the North beyond reach of voice or prayer. And now, there is another thing that I must tell you, dear, even [3]though I tremble with ... |
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