, only the ould mother and Mary that'll fret
and----Holy Mother! there comes the sickness, bad scran to it!"

You see now how it happened unto the History of the Stockade Prison to
vanish in smoke; for Drake, having neither wood nor the money to buy it,
made a fire with his precious boards, and baked Corny's raw meal in a
cake, which the poor fellow devoured with a half-starved avidity that
made Drake ashamed of the reluctance with which he had offered up his
sacrifice. A little corner of his cake Corny left untouched, saying,--

"That's fur the poor crathur over beyant."

"What poor creature?" asked Drake; but Corny's eyes were fixed on the
pens and ink, and the sorry remains of his foolscap,--a half-strip of
board.

"Och! murther! Musther Talcott, and wuz it thim bits of board ye's
writin' on? and ye's burned thim fur me, afther all the throuble ye took
wid thim? and to think of the thick head of me, to ate up all that
illigant histhry, when I'd heerd the boys talkin' on it, by the same
token, and bad scran to me! The Lord be good to ye fur your kindness,
Musther Talcott, and make your bed as soft as your heart is, and give ye
a line in the Book of Life fur the one I've ate, and"----

"But the poor creature, Corny."

"Thrue for you; and I'm a baste fur forgettin' him, and him starvin' the
while. It's jist Cap'n Ireland, if ye chance to mind him. He was the
illigant officer and the kind-hearted man; and to see him now! If ye'll
come away, Musther Talcott, I'm quite done wid the wakeness, and it's
jist over here beyant that he's lyin', poor jontleman, that'll not be
long lyin' anywhere out of his grave."

Corny pointed, as he spoke, to a man, or, rather, a bundle of rags
having some faint outlines of humanity, on the ground before
them,--limbs out helplessly, face set and ghastly, hardly a stir among
his tatters to assure them that he yet breathed; and Drake recognized
with a thrill of horror, though more wan, more woful, more shadow-like,
if possible, the man who had so moved his compassion on the night of his
arrival. Keegan knelt beside him, and put his corner of cake to the
sufferer's mouth, saying, "Ate a bit, Cap'n dear; thry now"; and then,
seeing that the food rested on white and quiet lips,--"Cap'n, don't ye
hear me? It's Corny, that spoke wid ye a while back. Saints be merciful
to us, he's gone!"

"He is not so happy," said Drake, savagely; "he has only fainted. He has
days of such torture as this bef