(1835)
Poor Jean was very sad; for his father was so ill, he had no hope of his
recovery. Jean sat alone with the sick man in the little room, and the lamp
had nearly burnt out; for it was late in the night.
“You have been a good son, Jean,” said the sick father, “and God will
help you on in the world.” He looked at him, as he spoke, with mild, earnest
eyes, drew a deep sigh, and died; yet it appeared as if he still slept.
Jean wept bitterly. He had no one in the wide world now; neither father,
mother, brother, nor sister. Poor Jean! he knelt down by the bed, kissed his
dead father’s hand, and wept many, many bitter tears. But at last his eyes
closed, and he fell asleep with his head resting against the hard bedpost.
Then he dreamed a strange dream; he thought he saw the sun shining upon
him, and his father alive and well, and even heard him laughing as he used
to do when he was very happy. A beautiful girl, with a golden crown on her
head, and long, shining hair, gave him her hand; and his father said, “See
what a bride you have won. She is the loveliest maiden on the whole earth.”
Then he awoke, and all the beautiful things vanished before his eyes, his
father lay dead on the bed, and he was all alone. Poor Jean!
