tragically white. With tearless, reddened eyes and hollow cheeks, she stood in the midst of the half naked children, who were shivering and looked at one point—the coffin. I went up to speak to her.
When the burial was over I asked some of the people about Matti. He was taken ill with pneumonia before he reached the city. He was ill-clothed, wet, underfed, and he could not struggle against it.
Now the bell summoned to church service. With others I entered the building. After the singing and the altar service, the pastor went to the pulpit. He chose for text: “Love thy neighbor as thyself.” “Love,” he said, “was the fulfilling of the law.” With pathos and display of genuine ability he explained to his hearers this high and noble command.
During the most zealous part of his speech I heard again the words: “He is a good preacher.” The lengthy sermon seemed not to be lacking in effect. Here and there women wept.
After service he spoke of the dead man. “God in his mercy has taken from this vale of tears, the farmer Matti Antinporka of Svältbacka, aged forty-two years, three months and eight days.
What is wealth and what is gold?
Trash—that melt to dust and mold.
Care and sorrow here below
Both the rich and poor must know.
Thus the pastor bestowed the last earthly service upon Matti. And he did not do it in the cheap manner
