Maxey 215 



that at last I was permitted to see it, and there, on 

 the still preserved pages, were traced the closing 

 scenes of a singular life. I copied them as though 

 they were a sacred chronicle, and here reproduce the 

 last three days entire. 



4 February 12. It must be fever. I have never 

 felt so strangely before. Quinine does not seem to 

 check it, and my head feels hot and heavy. To 

 be sick, alone, and away from possible help, is not 

 pleasant. For myself I do not care so much. But 

 what will become of Maxey if I should be unable 

 to move? the dear fellow who has always been so 

 patient, so devoted ; who has stood by me when 

 other friends proved false. I cannot let him suffer. 

 I will put a supply of food where he can get it in 

 case I should be taken really sick. I do n't think it 

 is anything serious, but it is well to provide ahead.' 



' February fj. My suspicions are correct. It 

 is fever. Well, God's will be done. I have no 

 fears, no regrets ; but what will poor Maxey do ? 

 He came out here with me willingly ; he has never 

 shown the slightest trace of evil ; he has a true 

 heart, and, in spite of his apparent stupidity, he is 



