It took me years to read.

Listen: my ancestor, a political refugee from Lisbon, and one of the first Portuguese who landed on these shores, wrote that when he was dying on those mountains which no white foot ever pressed before or since.

His name was Jose da Silvestra, and he lived three hundred years ago.

His slave, who waited for him on this side of the mountains, found him dead, and brought the writing home to Delagoa.

It has been in the family ever since, but none have cared to read it, till at last I did.