Jesus is mine!
Welcome, the loved and blest!
Welcome, bright scenes of rest!
Welcome, my Saviour's breast!
Jesus is mine!

Scarcely had the leaves of the fallen peach-tree by the window begun to
wither when the strong bearers passed out with their beautiful, stainless
burden, while slowly, reverently, the little community of mourners
followed to the grave.

CHAPTER XXI.

FAREWELL TO WALLENCAMP.

Yet another week passed in Wallencamp before I was able to complete the
preparations for my departure.

One day, I set myself with a sort of listless fidelity to the summing up
of my accounts. I found, on deducting the amount of my actual expenses
from the sum total of my earnings in Wallencamp, that I had
sixty-two cents left!

The revelation caused me some surprise; strangely little perturbation of
spirit. I thought what tragic tales might sometimes lie hidden beneath a
seemingly dry and senseless combination of figures, while, in my own
case, I was merely struck with the justice of those figures.

For such eccentric and distracted services as I had rendered in
Wallencamp, the superintendent of schools had paid me in full at the
price stipulated, eight dollars per week.

On the other hand, the column of insolvency, I considered that the West
Wallen Doctor's bill was an expression of modesty itself. The sum due my
Dear Madeline for "board," at two dollars and a half per week, though I
trusted it was some compensation for the merely temporal advantages to be
enjoyed in Wallencamp, did not appear as an astounding aggregate. The
list of "minor details" was well portrayed, and presented an aspect of
clear use and value.

My once fond dream of a "private bank account" had gradually faded from
my memory. I saw the last spar in that fair wreck go down, now, without a
sigh. And the "loans solicited," in labored phrase, as "mere temporary
conveniences," from the friends at home--these, I was satisfied, must
remain only as the sweet continuation of a life-long debt. But how was I
to get home?

The combined fares on that route, I remembered, had amounted to something
over nine dollars! So the question haunted me, not restlessly, but with a
vague, tranquil, melancholy interest, as pertaining to the history of
some one who had lived and died a few years before; so long indeed, it
seemed to me, since I had performed the journey to Wallencamp.

I had not written home as to the day of my probable ar