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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Stark Munro Letters"

No good angels came my way.
Wait a bit, though! One did. I was awakened at six
in the morning one day by a ringing at my bell, and
creeping to the angle of the stair I saw through the
glass a stout gentleman in a top-hat outside. Much
excited, with a thousand guesses capping one another in
my head, I ran back, pulled on some clothes, rushed down,
opened the door, and found myself in the grey morning
light face to face with Horton. The good fellow had come
down from Merton in an excursion train, and had been
travelling all night. He had an umbrella under his arm,
and two great straw baskets in each hand, which
contained, when unpacked, a cold leg of mutton, half-a-
dozen of beer, a bottle of port, and all sorts of pasties
and luxuries. We had a great day together, and when he
rejoined his excursion in the evening he left a very much
cheerier man than he had found.
Talking of cheeriness, you misunderstand me, Bertie,
if you think (as you seem to imply) that I take a dark
view of things. It is true that I discard some
consolations which you possess, because I cannot convince
myself that they are genuine; but in this world, at
least, I see immense reason for hope, and as to the next
I am confident that all will be for the best. From
annihilation to beatification I am ready to adapt myself
to whatever the great Designer's secret plan my be.
But there is much in the prospects of this world to
set a man's heart singing.


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