It Was A Sunday Afternoon,

Grief! Thou Art Classed Amongst The Depressing Passions. And True It Is That Thou Humblest To The Dust, But Also Thou Exaltest To The Clouds. Thou Shakest Us With Ague, But Also Thou Steadiest Like Frost. Thou Sickenest The Heart, But Also Thou Healest Its Infirmities.

Mathematics Has Not A Foot To Stand Upon Which Is Not Purely Metaphysical.

Rightly It Is Said Of Utter, Utter Misery, That It 'cannot Be Remembered'; Itself, Being A Rememberable Thing, Is Swallowed Up In Its Own Chaos.

Enough If Every Age Produce Two Or Three Critics Of This Esoteric Class, With Here And There A Reader To Understand Them.

Everlasting Farewells! And Again, And Yet Again Reverberated Everlasting Farewells!