N. B. Since the above conclusion of my letter, I have visited and opened a tumulus raised over the remains of a Roman woman. The inscription engraved upon a stone covered by the mound, had been rendered nearly illegible from detrition, but we were enabled to decipher, with an approach to certainty, the following detached words: COR. * * * *, * * * AUGUSTA * *. IB UXOR ⛳ * * * * * * *. ALLISSUIS. * * *. The distaff was an emblem used for the commemoration of industrious habits when graved in an upright position, but when trailed from a spun thread, it indicated a gad-about reputation. Don Pedro will write you a particular description of our joint labors. I will now stay my still overburdened pen, to give my thoughts maturity for better expression. H. B.
As Mr. Welson read M. Baudois’s letter aloud with a slow, clear, and distinct accentuation, it was intelligible to all, and elicited warm encomiums, with a strong desire to listen to the reading of Don Pedro Garcia’s, which we transcribe.
QUERIDO DON GUILLERMO,—Since we received your letters describing your marvelous adventures (which we believed, because we could not doubt the truthful sincerity of your affection), we have been in a constant flutter of joyous exhilaration, which has served to clear the murky atmosphere of our household from its time-honored odors and rites of instinctive religion. While bestirring ourselves for the relief of our bodies with the labors of purification for domestic entertainment, we (M. Baudois is now a member of our family) have employed our thoughts in trying to anticipate the effect of your revelation in stemming the tide of ritual selfishness. Also in measuring the extent of opposition and consternation it will cause among the ceremonial adherents of sects congregating for the worship of self-preservation while preying upon each other. We have already felt a foreboding of its practical effect, in demonstration, from our family incubus, Padre Molinero. By depriving sects of their material heaven and hell,—upon which in positive and negative entrance fee priestcraft has issued policies of insurance for the soul of instinct from time out of date,—you will lay an eternal embargo upon their selfish schemes of praying premiums. Indeed, in sanguine forecast we can now see the gasping flutterings of saving grace in its last ritualistic struggles for salvation from inevitable oblivion, giving place to the glorious effulgence of an affectionate immortality. As you can well imagine, I have but little to say in extenuation for my past infatuation, other than that my reason and reverence halted with the dullness of indifference, causing me to accept forms, from the fact that my veneration could find no hopeful resting place. We can now scarcely endure the reflection, that through life we have remained so dull of apprehension, as not to have discovered from self-intuition, that purity and goodness could alone fulfill the indications of Creative intention for the assurance, in life, of an affectionate immortality. From the moment I read your letter I became subject to an awakening translation from self, and in relief from the dread incubus, become overjoyed with the prospect of affording aid to others. That you may more fully realize the effect of the transition, it was quickly discovered by the watchful expectancy of your chiquita favorites Lovieta and Lavoca, who were waiting for the confections of love they knew you would not fail to send for their affectionate regalement. When the rays of gladness began to dawn in my face, they interrupted my reading by nestling their arms about my neck, while they whispered, as if fearful of disturbing the joyful emotions, “O father, how happy you look, there must be something good for us,—do let us kiss you and then read it for we long to hear what Querido Don Guillermo has written to make you look so alegre.” With this appeal, seconded by an affectionate assault, I commenced from the beginning of your letter,—but half unfolded to my own view,—and as I read explained to their wondering comprehension the marvelous transitions of your experience. With the introduction of Correliana my reading became interjectional from the staccato inflection of kisses telegraphed to her goodness, with the exclamations, “How beautiful,” “Marvilloso!” “Oh, if”—but the wish remained unfinished in voiceful expression, yet the conscious flush of momentary sadness plainly interpreted the burden of their thoughts in hopeful appeal. These emotions, advocated in truthful sincerity the sway of goodness, during the infantile period, if unprejudiced by deleterious example,—when my unfortunates have retained its impression so perfectly, notwithstanding their exposure to its adverse influence.