Abstract
We shuffle-walk on; but you just stop again. And here we stand again on our night-walk up to the younger house. Where people are dogs and cats and night-caps and hearth-fires burn! And it's so cold here under a million families of farm-bright, beautiful, but oh, so breezy stars. And the wind tosses some sparish leaves from the tall row of jacarandas, which, you remember again, Papa planted, long before you bore me. And now you won't go faster. You can't walk faster, though I shove you on. Propel you along... Gently, of course, but I don't wait as long as you might like. Und tapfer weiter, yes, you oblige,
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