"No; it has ceased raining," said the shoemaker; "but if the little town here is no better paved than the landing-place, good luck to our shoes! there will be work! Whoever has not got bull-hide straps to keep 'em on, will lose them in the mud!" "Town!" asked the brewer, who had been round the little clearing. "Town! there's no town here, shoemaker--it must be higher up. I wish I could get something to eat!--I'm very hungry, that's a fact!" "The howling has taken away all my appetite," whimpered the tailor; "blown it completely away, as it were. However, I shouldn't mind a cup of coffee." "I should like to know where we are to get coffee from here," said Schmidt; "and if we had any, we couldn't drink it out of our hats; I see no cups." "Well, then, we could unpack some," said the tailor; "but hush! the man there is moving," he continued, in a low whisper, as the woodsman, rising from his seat, drew back the mosquito net, which had hitherto covered the corpse of his wife. On a poor-looking mattress, stuffed with moss, lay the body of the young and beautiful American; a plain white calico dress covered her limbs, and her long flowing chestnut hair clung around the pale sunken features of her noble face. The eyes were closed, and on the lids there lay two pieces of silver coin to keep them down. The right hand rested upon the heart, the left lay beside her; she seemed to have fallen asleep gently, and without pain; angelic peace was depicted on her pure and beautiful features. The young man gazed long and silently upon her, and he watched, as if in a dream, scarcely conscious that he did so, the individual mosquitoes which flew in through the now opened net, expecting a new meal. He noticed how they alighted upon the dear face of his wife, as though they expected to find blood in the dry veins of the corpse, until he himself gazed upon the creatures with stifled breath. It came over him that his Maria--his all in this world--could not be dead, and he expected to see the little blood-suckers swell as they drew in her warm life-juices; but scarcely had they bored their slight and pointed stings through the skin, and appeared to have made the first attempt, before they quickly and tremblingly, with evident signs of fear and alarm, endeavoured to free their little trunks, flew quickly away, and in confused haste sought in vain for the opening by which they had entered. With a deep sigh the unhappy man let his arm fall, and turned silently away; it was then that his eyes met those of Pastor Hehrmann, who had risen in order to offer words of consolation and of courage to the sufferer. As he was endeavouring to call to mind the little English which he knew, and was making several pauses in speaking, from lack of words to express himself; the other made a sign to him with his hand, and said, in good and pure German, but with averted face-- "I am a German, Sir; I understand your language."