To Rev. Henry W. Bellows.
SHEFFIELD, Aug. 25, 1845.
DEAR BELLOWS,--I thought to answer you in your own vein, but I am made
very serious just now by reading the first five chapters of Matthew.
How many things to think of! Does no doubt arise concerning those
introductory chapters? And then what heart-penetrating, what tremendous
teaching is that of the Sermon on the Mount!
In fact, though jests have flown pretty freely about the house, and
hearty laughter is likely to be where the Deweys muster in much
strength, yet I have had a pretty serious vacation. I set for my stent,
to read the [180] New Testament, or the Gospels at least, in Greek,
and to master the great work of Auguste Comte, and to write one or
two sermons. With the philosopher I have spent the most time. Morning
after morning, with none to annoy or make me afraid, I have gone out
on the green grass under the trees, and, seated in the bosom of the
world, I have striven with the great problem of the world. The account
looks fanciful, perhaps, but the matter is not so; for amidst this
solitude and silence, and this infinitude which nature opens to me as
the city never does, I find the most serious and terrible business of
my existence. I do not mean terrible in a bad sense; I have courage and
faith, but I can gain no approach towards philosophical apathy.
We are well, and expect to go down on Wednesday next, and we too begin
to feel a longing for New York and you. With our love to E.
As ever,