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And not a flower that sleeps beneath the


But in its hues or fragrance tells a

tale - of Thee.  (Proctors Mirandola)

Oh heyday!! I am sighing for I am

awful homesick up here, the novelty has

quite worn away, and my Journal and

Business - books and visits, do not re-

lieve the Monotony or Me - I must &

will see you and Morris and that before

long - or I will go and fill my pockets

with 2 dollars worth of change all in

Coppers jump into the lake (after writing

you a small note where to find the

body which would take 3¢) and

become a thunderation wet, moist

damp, unpleasant, mortal Body.

   The drums are beating so near

my window as to prevent me writing

any more so I will rest a little till to

morrow. When I will do more till

then my sweet Celia good night.