urious mental process his thoughts would wander away
from the stiffening body before him to a vision of home, and Sabbaths
when sweet-toned bells called quiet families to church, and little
children playing about the doorsteps, and peaceful women in sunny
houses, and gay girls waving on men to battle through glittering
streets, and prayers, and looks of love, and songs, and flowers, and
Alice; and in on this rolled suddenly a sense of what was actually
around him, as under a calm sky and out of a still sea swoops sometimes
suddenly some huge wave in on the quiet beach. He saw about him rags,
filth, men sick, men dying, men dead, men groaning, men cursing, men
gibbering. There rose up before him the grim succession of days of
hunger, pain, sorrow, and loneliness, already past; there came upon him
a terrible threatening of days to come, yet worse,--without hope or
relief, unless at the dead line. He rose, staggering, and with a wild
and desperate look that startled Corny.
"Fur the Lord's sake, wud ye desthroy yerself?" cried the faithful
fellow, throwing his arms about him to hold him fast. "Och, honey! ye're
a heretic, and the good Lord's a Catholic; but thin He made us all, and
He has pity on the poor crathurs that's sufferin' here, or His heart's
harder nor Corny's: the Saints forgive me fur such a spache! Pray,
Musther Talcott, pray"----
"Pray!" exclaimed Drake; "is there a God looking down here?"--and
dropping on his knees, he gasped out,--
"O God! if Thou dost yet hear, save me--from going mad!" and fell
forward at Corny's feet, senseless.
He was carried to the hospital, and lay there weeks, lost in the
delirium of a fever; and every morning there peered in at the inner door
of the stockade a huge shock of hair, and a red, anxious face, with,--
"The top of the mornin' to ye, docthor, and it's ashamed I am to be
afther throublin' ye so often; but will yer Honor plase to tell me how
Musther Talcott is the day?"--and having received the desired
information, Corny would take himself off with blessings "on his Honor,
that had consideration for the feelings of the poor Irishman."
One morning there was a change in the programme.
"I have good news for you, Corny," said the kindly doctor. "Talcott is
out of danger."
"Hurray! and the Saints be praised fur that!" shouted Corny, cutting a
caper.
"But I have better news yet," continued the doctor, watching Corny
closely. "His name is on the list of exchanged
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