I Sat By His Bed For Some Hours; There Was Not A Ray Of Hope; He
Could Speak With Difficulty, And The Flies Walked Across His Glazed
Eyeballs Without His Knowledge.
Gently bathing his face and hands, I
asked him if I could deliver any message to his relatives.
He faintly
uttered, "I am prepared to die; I have neither parents nor relations;
but there is one - she - " he faltered. He could not finish his sentence,
but his dying thoughts were with one he loved; far, far away from this
wild and miserable land, his spirit was transported to his native
village, and to the object that made life dear to him. Did not a shudder
pass over her, a chill warning at that sad moment when all was passing
away? I pressed his cold hand, and asked her name. Gathering his
remaining strength he murmured, "Krombach" [Krombach was merely the name
of his native village in Bavaria.] . . . "Es bleibt nur zu sterben."
"Ich bin sehr dankbar." These were the last words he spoke, "I am very
grateful." I gazed sorrowfully at his attenuated figure, and at the now
powerless hand that had laid low many an elephant and lion, in its day
of strength; and the cold sweat of death lay thick upon his forehead.
Although the pulse was not yet still, Johann was gone.
31st Dec. - Johann died. I made a huge cross with my own hands from the
trunk of a tamarind tree, and by moonlight we laid him in his grave in
this lonely spot.
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