p the letter.

"'I don't know whether this letter will find you, or where it will find
you,'" he repeated, and added mentally, "or how it will find you."

Then he sat still for a while, staring into space.

After a time he became observant of the American jackanapes, who had
annoyed him in the smoking-room the day before. He was flirting with a
young lady apathetically lounging in an easy-chair, a Canadian, Frederick
had been told. He did not trust his eyes when he saw the American, who
had been toying with a small box of matches, pile them up carelessly, and
set fire to them in that inflammable room. A steward came up and modestly
explained that it was his duty to ask him to refrain from what he was
doing. At which the jackanapes dismissed him with "Get out of here, you
idiot."

Frederick drew out his mother's letter, but before reading it, he had
to meditate briefly upon the matter that took the place of brains in the
young American's skull.

* * * * *

My Dear Son,

Your mother's prayers accompany you. You have gone through a great deal
and suffered very much for one of your years. To let you hear something
pleasant at the very start, I will tell you of the children. They are
very well. This week I convinced myself with my own eyes that they have
a good home with Pastor Mohaupt. Albrecht is splendid. Bernhard, you
know, is more like his mother and always has been a quiet child. But he
seemed more alert and more talkative. The life in the pastor's house and
on the farm seems to please him. Pastor Mohaupt thinks both boys are by
no means untalented. He has already begun to give them lessons in Latin.
Little Annemarie asked me very timidly about her mother, but especially
about you. She spoke of you often. I told the children there was a
medical congress in New York or Washington, where they would at last make
an end of that dreadful disease, consumption. My dear child, do come back
soon to this dear old Europe.

I had a long talk with Doctor Binswanger. He told me your wife's trouble
is hereditary. It was in her all the time and would certainly have
cropped out, sooner or later. He spoke of your work, too, dear child, and
thought you ought not allow yourself to be crushed. Four or five years of
hard work, he said, would make up for your set-back.

Dear Dietrich, listen to your old mother and put your trust in our loving
Father in heaven. I think you are an atheist. Just laugh at