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6
And not a flower that sleeps beneath the
moon,
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.