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Letter To A Friend. by Sir Thomas Browne [Letter To A Friend] Give me leave to wonder that news of this nature should have such heavy wings that you should hear so little concerning your dearest Friend, and that I must make that unwilling repetition to tell you, ad portam rigidos calces extendit , that he is dead and buried, and by this time no puny among the mighty nations of the dead; for though he left this world not very many days past, yet every hour you know largely addeth unto that dark society; and considering the incessant mortality of mankind, you cannot conceive there dieth in the whole earth so few as a thousand an hour. Although at this distance you had no early account or particular of his death, yet your affection may cease to wonder that you had not some secret sense or intimation thereof by dreams, thoughtful whisperings, mercurisms, airy nuncios, or sympathetical insinuations, which many seem to have had at the death of their dearest friends: for since we find in that . . .
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