"It is useless," said Durand, "for me to feign a gaiety I do not feel. I feel more like weeping than laughing. The mere idea of this long, perhaps eternal, separation makes my heart bleed. I think that the hand now in mine I shall never shake again." "Don't be downhearted. Perhaps we may meet sooner than either of us expect," retorted Oliver. "I hope you may be a true prophet. Still I cannot help shuddering at the thought of your starting off amidst people whose language you do not even know." "There you are mistaken," responded Oliver; "as well as French, I speak English, Spanish, and Dutch, with about five Indian dialects, which I picked up at different times." "It is a wonder," mused the other, "that, placed as you have been, you should have had the time." "Before I became a cabin boy I could read and write a little. After a time I spent every moment of leisure in study." "I remember," sighed Durand, "I never met you without you were reading. What will you do for books now?" "What book is more interesting than that in which God has written on the plains, on the mountains, on the minutest blade of grass?" replied Oliver with enthusiasm. "Believe me, my friend, the sacred book of Nature has pages too interesting to ever weary us; from them you always find consolation, hope, encouragement. But," he added with a smile, "I have two books with me which, in my opinion, epitomise all great human thoughts, make man better, and even restore his courage, when bowed down by the heavy weight of misfortune. I have these books by heart, and yet I read them over again." And he laid on the table two books bound in black morocco. "What!" cried the amazed captain, "'The Imitation of Jesus Christ' and 'Montaigne'!" "Yes. 'The Imitation of Jesus Christ' and 'Montaigne,' the most complete and sincere books ever written, for they tell the story of doubt and belief. They tell the rival story of all the philosophers who have existed since the creation of the world. With these two books and the magnificent spectacle of Nature around me have I not a whole library?" "I cannot make you out. You overwhelm me," said the captain; "but I have not the courage to contradict you. You are too much for me. Go forth, seek the unknown, for alone that will comprehend you. You are one of those whom adversity purifies and renders great; you will often feel inclined to fall by the way in the gigantic combat you are about to undertake against the world. But fail is not a word in your dictionary. Even death, when it comes, will not conquer you." "All the more that death is but a transformation, a purification of brutal matter by Divine agency. But," he remarked with a smile, "I think we are talking about very serious matters very foreign to our subject. Let us return to business, for the hour of our departure is rapidly approaching." At this moment the tramp of horses was heard, and the captain again ran to the window.