Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever. It made me wake up, and there I lay thinking of you, spending your nights up here all alone, and no one to look after you. In passing, why do we fear death? For our sins? Rather, isn't it the tremendous inherent human curiosity to know what is going to happen to-morrow that causes us to wince at the thought of annihilation? A subconscious resentment against the idea of entering darkness while our neighbour will proceed with his petty affairs as usual? "It's nip and tuck," said the doctor; "but we'll pull him through. ‘Come, I am concerned merely for your safety, you know. “I must live, you know. You give her a daub here and there where the rust shows. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. Wild," observed Austin, as he put on his coat, and adjusted his minor bob.
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