You will divert your mind from all external subjects, especially Billy, who is a fool, and his trout-killing inhumane, and I a merciless glutton for eating them; and you will think, and think, and think, and forge the required key to this lock with three wards--Life, Labor, Capital.

And, when forged, the Philanthropic Society shall pay you a good price for it.

Meantime, don't dream of leaving Hillsborough, or I shall give you a stirrup-cup that will waft you much further than London; for it shall be 'of prussic acid all composed,' or 'juice of cursed Hebenon in a vial.' Come, away with you." "Good-by, doctor.

God bless you.

You have found 'the key to my heart' somehow.