The German looked out at the cabin door for the last time that night. Then
he paced the room slowly and sighed. Then he drew out pen and paper, and
sat down to write, rubbing his old grey eyes with his knuckles before he
began.
"My Chickens: You did not come to say good-bye to the old man. Might you?
Ah, well, there is a land where they part no more, where saints immortal
reign.
"I sit here alone, and I think of you. Will you forget the old man? When
you wake tomorrow he will be far away. The old horse is lazy, but he has
his stick to help him; that is three legs. He comes back one day with gold
and diamonds. Will you welcome him? Well, we shall see. I go to meet
Waldo. He comes back with the wagon; then he follows me. Poor boy? God
knows. There is a land where all things are made right, but that land is
not here.
"My little children, serve the Saviour; give your hearts to Him while you
are yet young. Life is short.
"Nothing is mine, otherwise I would say, Lyndall, take my books, Em my
stones. Now I say nothing. The things are mine: it is not righteous, God
knows? But I am silent. Let it be. But I feel it, I must say I feel it.
"Do not cry too much for the old man. He goes out to seek his fortune, and
comes back with it in a bag, it may be.
"I love my children.
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