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Atlantis by Gerhart Hauptmann
page 5 of 439 (01%)

Several times, old boy, I have been two thirds of the way over already,
and I have left for you some notes on the states I have passed through,
which may not be lacking in scientific interest. Should it be possible
for me, after the great moment, to make myself noticeable from the
Beyond, you will hear from me again.

Where are you? Good-bye. In the vivid, flashing orgies of my nocturnal
dreams, you are always tossing in a ship on the high seas. Do you intend
to go on an ocean trip?

It is January. Isn't there a certain advantage in not needing to dread
April weather any longer? I shake hands with you, Frederick von
Kammacher.

Yours,
George Rasmussen.

* * * * *

Frederick, of course, had immediately sent a telegram from Paris, which
relieved the son, dying a heroic death, from solicitude for his hale
father.

Though Frederick von Kammacher had profound troubles of his own to occupy
his mind, his thoughts kept recurring to the letter in his pocket and his
dying friend. To an imaginative person of thirty, his life of the past
few years is in an eminent degree present to his mind. There had been a
tragic turn in Frederick's own life, and now tragedy had also entered his
friend's life, a tragedy far more awful.
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