How small and repulsive it all is to me!--all that has seemed so
stupendous these forty years. I am worn out. If I have not the courage
to die, still less have I the courage to go on--or the interest. I want
rest.
They tell me--what they always tell a man in my straits. But they know
better--and so do I!
Nor do I care.
* * * * *
Too late! Too late! For now, not the poorest, greediest pedlar that
cheats in rags for rags at the area-gate would change places with me.
Oh, vanity, how you have swindled me!
No doubt they think my mind is stunned. I have seen other men of my
class stricken as I am. I have watched them in this frightful wait for
the shaft they knew death had aimed and would not long delay. I know
now why their eyes were dull, why their ears seemed not to hear. I
know what they were thinking about. For, hour after hour, I too----
(_Here the manuscript ends_)