Teixeira believed with almost complete sincerity that he would die on 21 April 1917. The origin of this belief he never explained to me; and I do not know whether he confided it to others. This accounts for the following entry:
Shall I live, I wonder, till the 22nd, to write to you that I am still alive? When I allow my thoughts to dwell upon 21. 4. 17, now but six brief days off, there rises to them the memory of the horrible Widow's Song which Vesta Victoria used to sing. I will start the next page with the chorus; for you, poor young fellow, know nothing of the songs that brightened the Augustan age of the music-halls.
Read and admire:
He was a good, kind husband,
One of the best of men:
So fond of his home, sweet home,
He never, never wanted to roam.
There he would sit by the fire-side,
Such a chilly man was John!
I hope and trust
There's a nice, warm fire
Where my old man's gone.
Gallows-humour, my dear executor, gallows-humour!
