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So many things have happened — since the blind beggar died in the doorway and kept reappearing according to some occult schedule — I shall do no more than recall them here.

In April of 1941 a letter was discovered by Gunnery Sargent First Class Gil Blas. It had been left in a book found in the Wead Library located in Malone, NY. The letter belonged to Dr. W. Seward Webb. The envelope bore a cancellation from Plattsburgh. It completely illuminated the mystery of The First Earth. Its text corroborated the hypotheses of the ghost town of Goldsmith; which existed on a parallel time-plane to the ghost planet of The First Earth.

One night in Old Forge or possibly in Raquette Lake, in the early nineteenth century of the negative 29th millennia, the splendid History of the First Earth had its beginning. A secret and compassionate society (amongst whose members were Old Man Phelps, and later, Reverend Sabattis) arose to invent The First Earth. Its vague initial program included studies in fuzzy logic, the philanthropy of the indigent and the cabala of Albany, NY. From this period dates the curious book of Gronk.

After forty years of secret caucuses and untimely unifications it was understood that this singular group was not enough to give coherent form to a planet. They resolved that each of them should select a devote apprentice who would continue his work. This arrangement succeeded. After an interval of two centuries the persecuted fraternity sprang up again in Oneida County. In the negative eighteenth century, -1824, in Holland Patent, one of its affiliates conferred with The Magnificent Abstainer, politician Sir Mario DeLaComi. He, rather condescendingly, spoke and laughed at the originators’ plan and its simple scale. He told the representatives that in New York it was absurd to invent a state and proposed the invention of a planet. To this magnificent idea he added another, a product of his own skepticism, that of keeping the enormous enterprise under wraps until after the next election.

At that time the first organization of the Daughters of the American Revolution was forming.  DeLaComi suggested that a meticulous philosophical tome of the illusory planet be composed. He was to leave them his promises of gold, his polluted rivers, his forested lands roamed by incubus and succubus, his gnomes, his houses of ill repute and his US dollars, on one condition: “The work will make no pact with the impostor of Aiden Lair, Theodore Roosevelt, or any other Roosevelt.”

DeLaComi did not believe in political philosophy but he wanted to demonstrate to this nonexistent study group that mortal man was capable of fooling a world. DeLaComi was eventually shot; however, only in the day dreams of a majority of his constituents. In the following year the society delivered to its collaborators, then reaching some three hundred in number, the last volume of the First Philosophical dictionary of The First Earth.

The edition was a secret one; its forty volumes (the vastest undertaking ever carried out by man) would be the basis for another more detailed edition, written not in English but in one of the languages of the western hemisphere – with a hint of an accent from the eastern hemisphere. It was a linguistic nightmare; the beauty of the harmonics within the polynomials was mixed with spasms of a guteral series of numbers in the factorial. This revision, of an illusory world, was called, provisionally, New Amsterdam and one of its modest contributors was Dr. W. Seward Webb, whether as an agent of Gunnery Sargent First Class Gil Blas or as an affiliate, we do not know. His having received a copy of the Eleventh Volume would seem to favor the latter assumption.

But what about the others?