This mail brought your letter including that of Mother and Alberta. What the learned friend of Alberta says about Russia is about the same I think myself. Only there is one difficulty of thought: Is it possible for the Hindu race to be Russianised?
Dear Mr. Sevier passed away before I could arrive. He was cremated on the banks of the river that flows by his Ashrama, à la Hindu, covered with garlands, the Brahmins carrying the body and boys chanting the Vedas.
The cause has already two martyrs. It makes me love dear old England and its heroic breed. The Mother is watering the plant of future India with the best blood of England. Glory unto Her!
Dear Mrs. Sevier is calm. A letter she wrote me to Paris comes back this mail. I am going up tomorrow to pay her a visit. Lord bless her, dear brave soul!
I am calm and strong. Occasion never found me low yet Mother will not make me now depressed.
It is very pleasant here, now the winter is on. The Himalayas will be still more beautiful with the uncovered snows.
The young man who started from New York, Mr. Johnston, has taken the vow of a Brahmachârin and is at Mayavati.
Send the money to Saradananda in the Math, as I will be away in the hills.
They have worked all right as far as they could; I am glad, and feel myself quite a fool on account of my nervous chagrin.
They are as good and as faithful as ever, and they are in good health. Write all this to Mrs. Bull and tell her she was always right and I was wrong, and I beg a hundred thousand pardons of her.
Oceans of love for her and for M—
I look behind and after
And find that all is right. In my deepest sorrows
There is a soul of light.
All love to M—, Mrs. C—, to Dear J.B.— , and to you, Dear Joe, Pranâms.