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the days of my life-第110章

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(I feel the truth of that statement today when dear Lang seems nearer to me than he has been for many a year — than he has ever been!)
After all; what is it; this death? As I grow older I seem to understand the hope and beauty of it; and though doubtless I shall recoil afraid; to rejoice that life should close so soon。 Better to die than to see those we love die。 For to most of us existence here at the best is unhappy。 Goodness and the desire to better the state of others are the only happy things in it; and the first in our half…brutal nature is hard to attain。 But I think it can be attained if opportunity and space endure; and then; our many past sins; errors and foulness of thought and deed notwithstanding; why should we fear to die? Surely those men are mad who in their little day reject the offerings of religion; for through faith the munion of the creature with his Maker is real and possible to him who seeks it; whatever the fashion of his seeking; and without that munion light is not。 Love also is real and immortal; not lust; but the love of children and friends and fellow…beings — that light shall always shine。 For myself I hope to live long enough to win sufficient success and money to do some little good to others。 If I fail in the attempt 。 。 。 may the earnest endeavour be accepted! At least we should try; since all we have; intelligence; attributes; means; is but lent to us。 I wonder if you will set me down as a simple religious enthusiast or as a little mad with my notions of the efficacy of faith and prayer。 Perhaps I am the latter — sorrow breeds it — but at least my madness is a star to follow 。 。 。 。
My dear Lang; that friendship to which you make such touching allusion always has been; is and will be returned by myself。 I will say no more。
In the letter to which the above e verses by Lockhart to exemplify his own state of mind; which; as he says; “are good and simple” — so good; and at this moment so appropriate indeed; that I cannot end these remarks better than by copying them。
It is an old belief
?That on some solemn shore
Beyond the sphere of grief
?Dear friends shall meet once more。
Beyond the sphere of Time;
?And Sin; and Fate’s control;
Serene in changeless prime
?Of body and soul。
That creed I fain would keep;
?This hope I’ll not forgo;
Eternal be the sleep;
?Unless to waken so。
And so to Andrew Lang; among men my best friend perhaps; and the one with whom I was most entirely in tune; farewell for a while。 Of his character and gifts I have already written while he was still living; so I will say no more of them now。 There are few such; and today the world is poorer and greyer for the loss of a pure and noble nature。 For myself I am more lonely; since of those men; not of my kin; whom I knew and loved while I still was young; now Charles Longman and Arthur Cochrane alone are left。
I find also another letter from Lang dated June 2; 1902; in which he informs me of the death of a second brother — “my little brother; he was always little; and ten years younger than I。 。 。 。 I tell you because you are a good fellow if ever there was one; and so was he;” etc。
I quote no more; according to the rule I have made as to certain matters which belong to the private lives of others。 My answer; however; which is pinned to the letter; may be printed; as that is my affair and only portrays my private views。
June 6; 1902。
My dear Andrew; — Very well I won’t write about it; but try to take fort。 I am sure that no affections are so perfect as those which have passed through the fires of death; and often I think that as sometimes we grow away from the living; so always do we grow nearer to the desired dead — in spirit; I mean。
It is a strange world; especially to those who feel much; but the only things to do seem to be to work on to the best of one’s ability; to be very sorry for one’s sins; and in great humbleness to wait till the mortal tide engulfs us also — hoping that beneath or beyond it we may find peace; understanding and our perfect part。 If I am sure of anything I am sure that Man has a living Spirit; and that he does not suffer so much to please the laws of Matter or a god called Chance。 With true sympathy;
Your affec。 friend;
H。 Rider Haggard。
Some days after Lang’s death I received a letter from Charles Longman of which I will quote a passage that deals with the character of Andrew Lang and the friendship we both had for him。
Yes; you and I will always feel a blank when we think of Andrew Lang。 He was of all men the most loyal to his friends — it was one of his most marked characteristics; and there had been a bond between us three which nothing could break。 As you know; I had been anxious about him this spring; though not about his heart; which the doctor had lately examined without finding anything wrong。 But his eyesight was threatened; and there was this strange depression about public affairs; which seemed as though it might grow worse。 In old days when he was bright and cheerful it is little he troubled himself about strikes and such…like。 So it may be that he — and those who loved him — have been spared something by his swift end。 But the breaking of an unclouded friendship of five…and…forty years is no light thing: as you say; one must hope that the break is but a temporary one and that there is some other meeting…place for friends。 Matt。 Arnold says:
“Sad fate of every mortal lot
Which man; proud man; finds hard to bear;
And builds himself; I know not what
Of second life; I know not where。”
At some date before he died Lang asked his wife to give to me a certain ring in token of remembrance。 I have now received and shall always wear this ring。 It belonged to Queen Taia; the wife of Amenophis III; or perhaps to Nefertiti; her daughter…inlaw; who married the famous Khu…en…aten; the fourth Amenophis and the remarkable Pharaoh who inaugurated what the priests of Amen considered the heresy of the worship of the Sun’s Disc; by which; I take it; he symbolised the one Almighty God who made the world。 On this ring; which; I think; from the length of time that it had evidently been worn; must have adorned the hand of Taia some 3500 years ago; is engraved a 
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