It is very hard having only
one son to lose him thus, but God's will be done. Who am I that
I should complain? The great wheel of Fate rolls on like a Juggernaut,
and crushes us all in turn, some soon, some late -- it does not
matter when, in the end, it crushes us all. We do not prostrate
ourselves before it like the poor Indians; we fly hither and
thither -- we cry for mercy; but it is of no use, the black Fate
thunders on and in its season reduces us to powder.
'Poor Harry to go so soon! just when his life was opening to
him. He was doing so well at the hospital, he had passed his
last examination with honours, and I was proud of them, much
prouder than he was, I think. 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.
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