The Garden of Resurrection by E. Temple Thurston

They have been gone two days. I could scarcely have believed that / forty-eight hours can so comparably measure Eternity. For two days the / house in Mount Street -- so far, at least, as I am concerned with it -- has / been empty. Yet I have had plenty to do. There have been numberless / letters to write. In an odd way it has amused me to find how many / people the most common necessities of life bring into one's existence. / Consider tradesmen alone! It took me one day at least of conscientious / hard work to go through and settle up all my accounts. Yesterday I / went into the Park in the morning. There may have been signs of buds / swelling on my plane tree, but possibly that was my imagination.

In the afternoon I wrote to my father and those few men to whom it / seemed I owed a letter. That did not take me long. There were only / two. As a matter of fact, I wrote two more but tore them up. Upon / re-reading, they gave me the impression that I was taking myself too / seriously.