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December 23

'I have just buried my boy, my poor handsome boy of whom I was so
proud, and my heart is broken. It is very hard having only one
son to lose him thus, but God's will be done. Who am I that I
should complain? The great wheel of Fate rolls on like a
Juggernaut, and crushes us all in turn, some soon, some late--it
does not matter when, in the end, it crushes us all. We do not
prostrate ourselves before it like the poor Indians; we fly
hither and thither--we cry for mercy; but it is of no use, the
black Fate thunders on and in its season reduces us to powder.

'Poor Harry to go so soon! just when his life was opening to him.
He was doing so well at the hospital, he had passed his last
examination with honours, and I was proud of them, much prouder
than he was, I think. And then he must needs go to that smallpox
hospital. He wrote to me that he was not afraid of smallpox and
wanted to gain the experience; and now the disease has killed
him, and I, old and grey and withered, am left to mourn over him,
without a chick or child to comfort me. I might have saved him,
too--I have money enough for both of us, and much more than
enough--King Solomon's Mines provided me with that; but I said,
"No, let the boy earn his living, let him labour that he may
enjoy rest." But the rest has come to him before the labour.
Oh, my boy, my boy!

'I am like the man in the Bible who laid up much goods and
builded barns--goods for my boy and barns for him to store them
in; and now his soul has been required of him, and I am left
desolate. I would that it had been my soul and not my boy's!

'We buried him this afternoon under the shadow of the grey and
ancient tower of the church of this village where my house is.
It was a dreary December afternoon, and the sky was heavy with
snow, but not much was falling. The coffin was put down by the
grave, and a few big flakes lit upon it. They looked very white
upon the black cloth! There was a little hitch about getting the
coffin down into the grave--the necessary ropes had been
forgotten: so we drew back from it, and waited in silence
watching the big flakes fall gently one by one like heavenly
benedictions, and melt in tears on Harry's pall. But that was
not all. A robin redbreast came as bold as could be and lit upon
the coffin and began to sing. And then I am afraid that I broke
down, and so did Sir Henry Curtis, strong man though he is; and
as for Captain Good, I saw him turn away too; even in my own
distress I could not help noticing it.'

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Not sure of the exact book...but it's one of H.Rider Haggard's.

Allan Quatermain?

Adios

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DN

You are correct... one of my fave books... isn't that opening just the most? Haggard of course was a real life adventurer... I adore his work... Allan Quartermain is Haggard.