out help I wish and hope to fulfil them. Blame me! I myself do that, but blame me, and not the road by which I go, and which I point out to those that ask me where, in my opinion, the road is. If I know the road home, and go along it intoxicated, staggering from side to side, does that make it any the less the true way by which I go? If it is not the right way, show me another; if I go astray and stagger, help me, keep me on the real way, as I am ready to keep you; but do not beat me off, do not rejoice because I have lost my way, do not cry out in enthusiasm: "There he is! He says he is going home, but he is sprawling in the slough." No, do not rejoice in this, but help me, hold me!
For you see you are not devils of the slough, but likewise people going home. For I am alone, and I do not wish to fall into the slough. Help me! help me! my heart is bursting with despair, that we are all blundering; and when I am struggling with all my powers, you, every time we go astray, instead of feeling sorry for yourself and myself, cry with enthusiasm, "Lo, here we all are in the slough!"
This, then, is my relation to the teaching and its fulfilment. With all my might I am striving to fulfil it, and at every failure I not only confess it, but I beg for help so as to be in a condition to fulfil it, and I meet joyously every one who is seeking the way, even as I am, and heed him.
If you read what I am sending, the substance of this letter will be clearer to you.
Write me. I am very glad to correspond with you, and I shall await your reply with impatience.
1883.
