terrible, not as the proverb would infer, from the inherent superstition
of man, but because it so often _is_ terrible. He who would tamper with
the vast and secret forces that animate the world may well fall a victim
to them. And if the end were attained, if at last you emerged from the
trial ever beautiful and ever young, defying time and evil, and lifted
above the natural decay of flesh and intellect, who shall say that the
awesome change would prove a happy one? Choose, my son, and may the
Power who rules all things, and who says 'thus far shalt thou go, and
thus much shalt thou learn,' direct the choice to your own happiness
and the happiness of the world, which, in the event of your success,
you would one day certainly rule by the pure force of accumulated
experience.-- Farewell!"

Thus the letter, which was unsigned and undated, abruptly ended.

"What do you make of that, Uncle Holly," said Leo, with a sort of gasp,
as he replaced it on the table. "We have been looking for a mystery, and
we certainly seem to have found one."

"What do I make of it? Why, that your poor dear father was off his head,
of course," I answered, testily. "I guessed as much that night, twenty
years ago, when he came into my room. You see he evidently hurried his
own end, poor man. It is absolute balderdash."

"That's it, sir!" said Job, solemnly. Job was a most matter-of-fact
specimen of a matter-of-fact class.

"Well, let's see what the potsherd has to say, at any rate," said Leo,
taking up the translation in his father's writing, and commencing to
read:--