nowledge so heterodox a book, especially in Edinburgh.

In asking me for _my_ theory of human existence, dear Hal, you must have
_forgotten me_ in your craving desire for some--any--solution of the
great mystery with which you are so deeply and perpetually perplexed.

How should I, who know nothing, who am _exceptionally_ ignorant, who
seldom read, and seldomer think (in any proper sense of the word), have
even the shadow of a theory upon this overpowering theme?

To tell you the vague suggestions of my imagination at various times
would doubtless be but to re-echo some of your own least satisfactory
surmises.

I thank God I have not the mental strength _and infirmity_ to seek to
grapple with this impossible subject. The faint outlines of ideas that
have at any time visited my brain about this tremendous mystery of human
life have all been sad and dreary, and most bitterly and oppressively
unsatisfactory; and therefore I rejoice that no mental fascination
rivets my thoughts to the brink of this dark and unfathomable abyss, but
that it is on the contrary the tendency of my nature to rest in hope, or
rather in faith in God's mercy and power, and moreover to think that the
perception we have (or as you would say, imagine we have) of DUTY, of
right to be done and wrong to be avoided, gives significance enough to
our existence to make it worth both love and honor, though it should
consist of but one conscious day in which that noble perception might be
sincerely followed, and though absolute annihilation were its
termination. The whole value and meaning of life, to me, lies in the
single sense of conscience--duty; and that is here, present, now, enough
for the best of us--God knows how much too much for me.

Good-bye, my dear. I have a most horrible cough and sore throat, and I
have been acting with it, feeling every moment that I was doing my poor
_parts of speech_ a serious injury by the strain I was compelled to put
upon them. You may judge of the state of my voice when I tell you that
I received from some anonymous kind friend this morning a bottle of
cough-mixture, and all manner of lozenges, jujubes, etc. Give my love to
Dorothy.

Ever yours,
FANNY.

ORCHARD STREET.
DEAREST H----,

... I am going with Henry Greville to see Rachel on Wednesday in "Marie
Stuar