WRITTEN TO CONSTANCE NORRIS BETWEEN JULY 18TH, 188-, AND MARCH 26TH OF THE FOLLOWING YEAR _Dear and Beloved Constance_,--What shall I say to you? Here I sit, in a strange room, in a strange land,--and my life lies behind me. It is close upon midnight, and very dark. I can see nothing out of window. The air is hot and heavy, the moths flutter round my candle; I cannot save them all. I am trying to write you a letter--do you understand? Oh, but I have no thoughts, only visions! Three there are that rise before me, sometimes separately, sometimes all together.…
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