And then he must needs go to that smallpox hospital.

He wrote to me that he was not afraid of smallpox and wanted to gain the experience; and now the disease has killed him, and I, old and grey and withered, am left to mourn over him, without a chick or child to comfort me.

I might have saved him, too -- I have money enough for both of us, and much more than enough -- King Solomon's Mines provided me with that; but I said, "No, let the boy earn his living, let him labour that he may enjoy rest." But the rest has come to him before the labour.

Oh, my boy, my boy! 'I am like the man in the Bible who laid up much goods and builded barns -- goods for my boy and barns for him to store them in; and now his soul has been required of him, and I am left desolate.
I would that it had been my soul and not my boy's! 'We buried him this afternoon under the shadow of the grey and ancient tower of the church of this village where my house is.
It was a dreary December afternoon, and the sky was heavy with snow, but not much was falling.

The coffin was put down by the grave, and a few big flakes lit upon it.