arteries, and bring the flap again into its place.

There was no time to pause, for the surgeon began to fear the effects of
the chloroform on the patient. We hastened to revive him by every
possible means at hand, throwing cold water on him and warming his hands
and feet. Although under the influence of chloroform to the degree that
he was insensible to pain, he had not been permitted to lose his entire
consciousness, and he appeared to be sensible of what we were doing.
Nevertheless, he awoke slowly, very slowly, the surgeon meanwhile
putting the stitches in the incision. At last he raised his eyelids and
made a movement with his lips. With a deliberate movement he surveyed
the circle of faces gathered closely around the bed. There was something
in his eyes which had an irresistible attraction for me, and I bent
forward to await his gaze. As his eyes met mine they changed as if a
sudden light had struck them, and the stony stare gave way to a look of
intelligence and recognition. Then, through the beard of a season's
growth and behind the haggard mask before me, I saw at once the
circus-rider of Turin and Paris. I remember being scarcely excited or
surprised at the meeting, for a great sense of irresponsibility came
over me, and I involuntarily accepted the coincidence as a matter of
course. He tried in vain to speak, but held up his right hand, and
feebly made with his fingers the sign of the letter which had played
such a part in the story of his life. Even at that instant the light
left his eyes, and something like a veil seemed drawn over them. With
the instinctive energy which possesses every one when there is a chance
of saving human life, we redoubled our efforts to restore the patient to
consciousness. But while we strove to feed the flame with some of our
own vitality, it flickered and went out, leaving the hue of ashes where
the rosy tinge of life had been. His heart was paralyzed.

As I turned away, my eye caught the surgeon's incision, which was now
plainly visible on the left shoulder. The cut was in the form of the
letter Y.

[2] _Century Magazine, March_, 1883.

THE END OF NEW YORK.[3]

BY PARK BENJAMIN.

INTRODUCTORY.

THE WAR CLOUD.

Towards dusk on the afternoon of Monday, December 5th, 1881, the French
steamer "Canada," from Havre, arrived at her pier in New York City.
Among the passengers was a tall, dark, rather fine-looking man, of about
middle-age. After the usual examinati