That was all there was
for dinner except two breakfast-cups of muddy coffee.
... The dak came in a little while ago with the. English mail. I have
just finished reading your letter. I think I know what you must feel
about your book. It is sad to come to the end of a long and pleasant
task--something finished you won't do again; a page of life closed.
I know. It scares me, too, how quickly things come to an end. We are
hurrying on so, the years pass so quickly, that even a long life is a
terribly short darg. Life is such a happy thing, one would like it to
last. I was twenty-six yesterday, and if my soul were to say to me
now, "_Finish, good lady, the bright day is over_," I would be most
dreadfully sorry (and I would expect everyone else to be dreadfully
sorry too; I'm afraid I would insist on a great moaning at the bar
when I put out to sea); but I would have to admit that I have had a
good time--a good, good time.
But I don't agree with you about the darkness of what comes after. How
can it be dark when the Sun of Righteousness has arisen? I suppose
it must be very difficult for clever people to believe, the wise and
prudent who demand a reason for everything; but Christ said that in
this the foolish things of the world would confound the wise. I am
glad He said that. I am glad that sometimes the battle is to the weak.
At the crossing, "I sink," cried Christian, the strong man, "I sink in
deep waters," but Much-Afraid went through the river singing, though
none could understand what she said.
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