My dear Brother and Sister--You will have been prepared before this reaches you for the worst news you could have, nay, if Haslam's letter arrives in proper time, I have a consolation in thinking that the first shock will be past before you receive this. The last days of poor Tom were of the most distressing nature; but his last moments were not so painful, and his very last was without a pang. I will not enter into any parsonic comments on death--yet the common observations of the commonest people on death are as true as their proverbs. I have scarce a doubt of immortality of some nature or other--neither had Tom. My friends have been exceedingly kind to me every one of them--Brown detained me at his House. I suppose no one could have had their time made smoother than mine has been. During poor Tom's illness I was not able to write and since his death the task of beginning has been a hindrance to me. Within this last Week I have been everywhere--and I will tell you as nearly as possible how all go on. With Dilke and Brown I am quite thick--with Brown indeed I am going to domesticate--that is, we shall keep house together. I shall have the front parlour and he the back one, by which I shall avoid the noise of Bentley's Children--and be the better able to go on with my Studies--which have been greatly interrupted lately, so that I have not the shadow of an idea of a book in my head, and my pen seems to have grown too gouty for sense. How are you going on now? The goings on of the world makes me dizzy--There you are with Birkbeck--here I am with Brown--sometimes I fancy an immense separation, and sometimes as at present, a direct communication of Spirit with you. That will be one of the grandeurs of immortality--There will be no space, and consequently the only commerce between spirits will be by their intelligence of each other--when they will completely understand each other, while we in this world merely comprehend each other in different degrees--the higher the degree of good so higher is our Love and friendship. I have been so little used to writing lately that I am afraid you will not smoke my meaning so I will give an example--Suppose Brown or Haslam or any one whom I understand in the next degree to what I do you, were in America, they would be so much the farther from me in proportion as their identity was less impressed upon me. Now the reason why I do not feel at the present moment so far from you is that I remember your Ways and Manners and actions; I know your manner of thinking, your manner of feeling: I know what shape your joy or your sorrow would take; I know the manner of your walking, standing, sauntering, sitting down, laughing, punning, and every action so truly that you seem near to me. You will remember me in the same manner--and the more when I tell you that I shall read a passage of Shakspeare every Sunday at ten o'Clock--you read one at the same time, and we shall be as near each other as blind bodies can be