Transcription:
3 all retired early to our rooms in the Big Tree Cottage and went to bed. Burroughs had a room to himself, while Browne
I occupied a larger one separated from John's only by a thin dry board partition resonant as the walls of a fiddle, which
faithfully transmitted every word we spoke or sang. After the headache clouds thinned and lifted a little, all bedroom rules,
and even the great cliffs and waterfalls of the valley were forgotten; and we began a glorious revel in Burns' poems, all
of which we had by heart, reciting and singing verse about for hours, sadly interfering with John's regular habits as repeated
rappings and calls for sleep-silence testified. With lowered voices we then continued our grand revel in muffled stage - whispers
and keeping down our merry humor fits as low as possible until far on toward the wee sma' hours ayont the twal, making a most
memorable night of it. Beloved Browne was the only American I ever knew or heard of who had all Burns' by heart, and who understood
him so well that he was able to enjoy the immortal poet almost as well as a veritable Scot. As we grow old we cling all the
more fondly to old friends: but Death takes them away just when need of them is sorest. Within the last two years two of my
Pasadena and Los Angeles friends of the dear old leal sort have vanished never to be seen again in this world of Light And
now Beloved Brown has gone and all California seems lonelier than ever.