wigless.txt

"My dear fellow," Burlingame said caustically, "we sit on a blind rock
careening through space; we are all of us rushing headlong to the
grave. Think you the worms will care, when anon they make a meal of
you, whether you spent your moment sighing wigless in your chamber, or
sacked the golden towns of Montezuma? Lookee, the day's nigh spent;
'tis gone careening into time forever. Not a tale's length since we
lined our bowels with dinner, and already they growl for more. We are
dying men Ebenezer: i'faith, there's time for nought but bold
resolves!"