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I have been reading over this letter, dear Aunt Janet, and I am afraid the record is rather an alarming one.

But don't you go building up superstitious horrors or fears on it.

Honestly, I am only joking about death--a thing to which I have been rather prone for a good many years back.

Not in very good taste, I suppose, but certainly very useful when the old man with the black wings goes flying about you day and night in strange places, sometimes visible and at others invisible.

But you can always hear wings, especially in the dark, when you cannot see them.