There are specialists now, I
understand, for every conceivable illness and for every
subdivision of it. If I fall ill, there is a whole battery
of modern science to be turned upon me in a moment. There
are X-rays ready to penetrate me in all directions. I
may have any and every treatment--hypnotic, therapeutic
or thaumaturgic--for which I am able to pay.
But, oh, my friends, when it shall come to be my lot to
be ill and stricken--in the last and real sense, with
the Great Fear upon me, and the Dark Phantom at the
pane--then let some one go, fast and eager--though it be
only in the paths of an expiring memory--fast and eager,
through the driving snow to bring him to my bedside. Let
me hear the sound of his hurrying sleighbells as he comes,
and his strong voice without the door--and, if that may
not be, then let me seem at least to feel the clasp of
his firm hand to guide me without fear to the Land of
Shadows, where he has gone before.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Hohenzollerns in America, by Stephen Leacock
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT THE HOHENZOLLERNS IN AMERICA ***
This file should be named hhnzl10.txt or hhnzl10.
Pages:
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236