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“I am frightened now. I have always hated it. Dese ere not schouts, as you faind, but jonkers on a vrolyk; and if dey'd chanshed to keel de vrow Sheppard's pet lamb, dey'd have done her a servish, by shaving it from dat unpleasant complaint, de hempen fever, with which its laatter days are threatened, and of which its poor vader died. A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters. "A bad business this, Van," observed Baptist, with a prolonged shake of the head. "What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. ‘If you care for me at all, shoot me. “Both. He filled the rôle of comrade which Spurlock dared not enact, at least not utterly as he would have liked.
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