CHAP. I.] 
JOHANN'S NEATH. 
43 
away from this wild and miserable land, his spirit was 
transported to his native village, and to the object 
that made life dear to him. Did not a shudder pass 
over her, a chill warning at that sad moment when 
all was passing away ? I pressed his cold hand, and 
asked her name. Gathering his remaining strength 
he murmured, “ Krombach ” * . . . “ Es bleibt nur zu 
sterben.” “ Ich bin sehr dankbar.” These were the 
last words he spoke, “ I am very grateful.” I gazed 
sorrowfully at his attenuated figure, and at the now 
j)owerless hand that had laid low many an elephant 
and lion, in its day of strength; and the cold sweat 
of death lay thick upon his forehead. Although the 
pulse was not yet still, Johann was gone. 
31st Dec .—Johann died. I made a huge cross with 
my own hands from the trunk of a tamarind tree, and 
by moonlight we laid him in his grave in this lonely 
spot. 
“No useless coffin enclosed his breast, 
Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; 
But he lay like a pilgrim taking his rest, 
With his mantle drawn around him.” 
This is a mournful commencement of the voyage. 
Poor fellow, I did all I could for him although that 
was but little ; and hands far more tender than mine 
* Krombach was merely the name of his native village in Bavaria. 
