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[Page 248]

This is the first of April, 12-30 p.m., with us as I write, with you the day has passed and your hour is between 8 & 9 p.m. I have seen no sign or heard no word of fooling.
"Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun, it shines everywhere." (Twelfth Night iii – 1.)
Such was Shakespeare's opinion of the state of affairs in his day. It may be that applied to our time he would not be much out in his reckoning.

This letter is following in the footsteps of its predecessors, in being too long, it will therefore be brought to a conclusion on this page, enveloped, & dropped into the post

8.30 p.m. At 8 p.m. the telegraph office received from me a message, for week end despatch, as follows:/
"Nash
Sydney
Happy Easter. Well. Love
Nash".

You should have it delivered to you on Tuesday morning which being two days after Easter Sunday will be late with the good wishes, however, they were uttered and written here in good time, & you may fit them in for the Easter week, or part of it that will follow the Tuesday.

High up in the Eastern sky the moon at her full shines at her best, full faced, clear beyond excelling, the figuring outlined in shades of blue pale blue on an almost perfectly white plate. In the course of the ages during which she has risen so constantly, there can have been other nights when her appearance has been as perfect at at this moment, but one could not imagine her face as being of this evening as being excelled. The

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