"
"My life, I hope, will be finished before yours," said his father, "I am
old, and you are young."
"True, I am young in years; but lately, yes, last Friday, while I
passed through the church yard, I heard a voice, and that voice I
believed."
"What ideas you invent!" exclaimed Magde, frightened for the first time,
as she observed Carl's hollow cheeks and sunken eye, "but what did the
voice say?"
"'Carl, Carl, Carl,' it said, calling my name three times, 'you will not
live long.'"
"Your brain is weak, my boy, because you have worked too hard. When your
body has received rest, and rest it must have, you will feel much
better. But tell me, Carl, what you thought when you imagined you heard
the voice."
"I did not think, but merely replied, 'indeed.'"
"But, Carl, with this superstition you will make your father sorrowful."
"Sorrowful? I do not think so. Should he be sorrowful because our
Saviour in his grace is willing to call me to his fold? Instead of being
sorrowful, the day of my departure should be a festive day.
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