ed.*

'No matter; let me have the paper, and I'll try to scratch a few lines
in the dark; and thou 'lt post it for me, sergeant? I ask thee as a last
favour to do this.'

'I promise it,' said he, laying his hand on my shoulder. After standing
for a few minutes thus in silence, he started suddenly and left the
cell.

I now tried to eat my supper, but although resolved on behaving with a
stout and unflinching courage throughout the whole sad event, I could
not swallow a mouthful. A sense of choking stopped me at every attempt,
and even the water I could only get down by gulps. The efforts I made
to bear up seemed to have caused a species of hysterical excitement that
actually rose to the height of intoxication, for I talked away loudly to
myself, laughed and sung. I even jested and mocked myself on this sudden
termination of a career that I used to anticipate as stored with future
fame and rewards. At intervals, I have no doubt that my mind wandered
far beyond the control of reason, but as constantly came back again to a
full consciousness of my melancholy position, and the fate that awaited
me. The noise of the key in the door silenced my ravings, and I sat
motionless as the sergeant entered with the pen, ink, and paper, which
he laid down upon the bed, and then as silently withdrew.

A long interval of stupor, a state of dreary half consciousness, now
came over me, from which I aroused myself with great difficulty to write
the few lines I destined for Colonel Mahon. I remember even now, long
as has been the space of years since that event, full as it has been of
stirring and strange incidents, I remember perfectly the thought which
flashed across me, as I sat, pen in hand, before the paper. It was the
notion of a certain resemblance between our actions in this world with
the characters I was about to inscribe upon that paper. Written in
darkness and in doubt, thought I, how shall they appear when brought to
the light! Perhaps those I have deemed the best and fairest shall seem
but to be the weakest or the worst! What need of kindness to forgive the
errors, and of patience to endure the ignorance! At last I began: 'Mon
Colonel,--Forgive, I pray you, the errors of these lines, penned in the
darkness of my cell, and the night before my death. They are written
to thank you ere I go hence, and to tell you that the poor heart whose
beating will soon be still, throbbed gratefully towards you to the last!
I have been senten