I found you were gone, by accident, as I find systems are, or seasons of the year, and obtain no cause, but suppose it a treason of progress that dissolves as it goes. Carlo still remained, and I told him.
Best gains must have the losses’ test,
To constitute them gains.
My shaggy ally assented.
Perhaps death gave me awe for friends, striking sharp and early, for I held them since in a brittle love, of more alarm than peace. I trust you may pass the limit of war; and though not reared to prayer, when service is had in church for our arms, I include yourself.... I was thinking to-day, as I noticed, that the “Supernatural” was only the Natural disclosed.
Not “Revelation” ’tis that waits,
But our unfurnished eyes.
But I fear I detain you. Should you, before this reaches you, experience immortality, who will inform me of the exchange? Could you, with honor, avoid death, I entreat you, sir. It would bereave
Your Gnome.
I trust the “Procession of Flowers” was not a premonition.