"i writ you these few lines in hast i don like youar gon a walen an in
the south sea dont go darlin tom or mebbe ill never se you agin for
ave bad drems of you darlin tom an im afraid so don go my darlin tom
but come back an take anoth ship for America baby i as wel as ever but
mises is pa an as got a new tooth an i think yo otnt go a walen o
darlin tom * * * sea as the wages was i in New York an better go thar
an id like to go ther for good for they gives good wages in America. O
come back my Darlin tom and take me to America an the baby an weel all
live an love an di together

"Your loving wife Polley Reed."


I began to read this, but there came a lump in my throat, and I had to
stop. Agnew leaned on my shoulder, and we both read it in silence. He
rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes and drew a long breath. Then
he walked away for a little distance, and I put the letter carefully
away in my own pocket-book. After a little while Agnew came back.

"More," said he, "do you remember any of the burial-service?"

I understood his meaning at once.

"Yes," I said, "some of it--a good deal of it, I think."

"That's good," said he. "Let's put the poor fellow under ground."

"It would be hard to do that," I said; "we'll have to bury him in the
snow."