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I TRAVELLED abroad with a very genial companion who had graduated at Harvard some twelve or fifteen years ago. He was, at the time of our journey, a sedate man of thirty, plain in his person, and matter-of-fact in his ideas. He manifested no especial sentimentality in visiting the famous scenes and monuments of the Old World, and seemed on the whole somewhat of a cynic. We parted in Paris, he to devote several years to study and further travel, I to return to America and begin my life at the University. Just before we shook hands for the last time he gave me a sealed package of papers, with the injunction that, should I ever hear of his death, I might open the package and read its contents. Should I see fit, I might also print them. I put the parcel away and thought little more of it, until, about a month ago, I was saddened to see by the morning papers that he had died at Singapore, in making the tour of the world. I then sought for the package and found in it several short essays in verse and prose, some evidently written while my friend was at Harvard, and others later. Several of them placed him before me in a new light, and proved him to be not only a quiet cynic, but also at one time somewhat of a sentimentalist and lover of fun. I have selected two or three from the half-dozen contained in the package, and give them below : -
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