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  Mr Whitman—

Although a stranger to you I wish to say through the medium of my pen that I have become interested in your welfare through your writings which for years I have clipped from papers. I also have a woodcut of your face. And as I have recently learned by the Press, of your ill health, I would with your permission offer you tenderest sympathy.

Mrs C. S. Haley Dalton Mass.  
 

Human–Life

Human life is an enigma; Who himself can understand? Everything that has existed; Came by some mysterious hand. Here we are on life's great ocean; Tossed about by winds and waves; Soon like millions gone before us. We shall sleep within our graves     Like rare pearls in deepest caverns, In the heart, deep hidden, lies Sad regrets and thoughts to sacred To be seen by mortal eyes Thus we live; misjudged and censured; While the bursting heart and brain Strive to bear with cheerful faces, All this bitter woe and pain. Will there be a grand unfoldment; Will these mysteries be made plain? When man dies, who can tell us; Will he he rise to life again?
[Chloe.]  
  see notes Jan 14, 1889