The day of my departure has arrived. As I am writing these last lines my boxes are all packed, and I am only waiting. We had a farewell meeting last night at “Our Club,” and the memory of the kind words spoken, will be to me a joy forever.
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The hour has come. A crowd of friends are waiting outside to say the last farewell words, and I must go.
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India! The land of my birth, and the land of my degradation, of some joys and pleasures, but always embittered with fear and despair, that cannot be told, but must be felt to realize their depth. Good-bye, never again to see thee, forevermore, and I hope and pray, though I cannot forget the miserable past, that I may never again meet people, mean enough to taunt me with that miserable blasting phrase of contempt, “That Eurasian.”
THE END.
NEELY’S
INTERNATIONAL