Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 105, September 2nd, 1893

Ecce iterum! Well, why not? So long as I do not exanimate you with my letters, I remain content. Besides, I have not yet fully-developed all my theories. Let us, therefore, continue to chat together for a little.
I cannot proceed for ever by the negative method. No doubt I might in the end, exhaust the list of those who are not your subjects, but the process would be long, and, I fear, tedious. No; I must come to the point and produce my cases. What shall we say of them, then? Hood declares that—
There is a silence where hath been no sound,
There is a silence where no sound may be,
In the cold grave, under the deep, deep sea.
and so forth; doubtless you remember the sonnet. Not there, however, is the true silence—
But in green ruins, in the desolate walls
Of antique palaces, where Man hath been,
Though the dun fox, or wild hyena calls,
And owls, that flit continually between,
Shriek to the echo, and the low winds moan,—