And coals of fire they proved to be Heaped on the head of contrite me - My scolding letter I deplore

And beg forgiveness o'er and o'er.

The lines you sent to your sisters four Be sure they'll cherish evermore For you have made them clearly see The one main truth that "all is He".

Then Swami: In days of yore,

On Ganga's sh.o.r.e preaching, A h.o.a.ry priest was teaching

How G.o.ds they come

As Sit Rm,

And gentle Sita pining, weeping. The sermons end,

They homeward wend their way - The hearers musing, thinking. When from the crowd

A voice aloud

This question asked beseeching, seeking - "Sir, tell me, pray,

Who were but they

These Sita Ram you were teaching, speaking!"

So Mary Hale,

Allow me tell,

You mar my doctrines wronging, baulking. I never taught

Such queer thought

That all was G.o.d - unmeaning talking!

But this I say,

Remember pray,

That G.o.d is true, all else is nothing,

This world's a dream

Though true it seem,

And only truth is He the living!

The real me is none but He,

And never, never matter changing!

With undying love and grat.i.tude to you all. . . .

VIVEKANANDA.

And then Miss M.B.H.: The difference I clearly see

'Twixt tweedledum and tweedledee - That is a proposition sane,

But truly 'tis beyond my vein

To make your Eastern logic plain.

If "G.o.d is truth, all else is naught,"

This "world a dream", delusion up wrought, What can exist which G.o.d is not? All those who "many" see have much to fear, He only lives to whom the "One" is clear. So again I say