Itisalsoimpossibletosaywhomhehadinhismindwhenheseizedthepen：Stein——myself——theworldatlarge——orwasthisonlytheaimlessstartledcryofasolitarymanconfrontedbyhisfate？“Anawfulthinghashappened，“
hewrotebeforeheflungthependownforthefirsttime；lookattheinkblotresemblingtheheadofanarrowunderthesewords。Afterawhilehehadtriedagain，scrawlingheavily，asifwithahandoflead，anotherline。“Imustnowatonce……“Thepenhadspluttered，andthattimehegaveitup。There’snothingmore；hehadseenabroadgulfthatneithereyenorvoicecouldspan。Icanunderstandthis。Hewasoverwhelmedbytheinexplicable；hewasoverwhelmedbyhisownpersonality——thegiftofthatdestinywhichhehaddonehisbesttomaster。
`Isendyoualsoanoldletter——averyoldletter。Itwasfoundcarefullypreservedinhiswriting-case。Itisfromhisfather，andbythedateyoucanseehemusthavereceiveditafewdaysbeforehejoinedthePatna。
Thusitmustbethelastletterheeverhadfromhome。Hehadtreasureditalltheseyears。Thegoodoldparsonfanciedhissailor-son。I’velookedinatasentencehereandthere。Thereisnothinginitexceptjustaffection。
Hetellshis“dearJames“thatthelastlongletterfromhimwasvery“honestandentertaining。“Hewouldnothavehim“judgemenharshlyorhastily。“