a; de ma'am say de Cunnel take dis bery hard, and dat I orter
tell him I'se sorry for what I'se done.'

'Well, wait awhile. Let me go in first.'

Accompanied by the corn-cracker, I entered the turpentine-shed. A row of
spirit-barrels were ranged along each of its sides, and two tiers
occupied the centre of the building. On these a number of loose planks
were placed, and on the planks lay the bodies of the metif woman and her
child. The Colonel was seated on a barrel near them, with his head
resting on his hands, and his eyes fixed on the ground. He did not seem
to notice our entrance, and passing him without speaking, I stepped to
the side of the dead.

The woman's dress, the common linsey gown worn by her class, was still
wet, and her short, kinky, brown hair fell in matted folds around her
head. One arm hung loosely by her side; the other was clasped tightly
around her child, which lay as if asleep on her bosom. One of its small
hands clung to its mother's breast, and around its little lips played a
smile. But how shall I describe the pale, sweet beauty of the face of
the drowned girl, as she lay there, her eyes closed, and her lips
parted, as in prayer? Never but once have I seen on human features the
strange radiance that shone upon it, or the mingled expression of hope
and peace and resignation that rested there, and that was in the
long-gone time when, standing by her bedside, I watched the passing away
of one who is now an angel in heaven!

'Come, my dear friend, let us go,' I said, turning and gently taking the
Colonel by the arm, 'the negroes are here, and will take charge of the
dead.'

'No, no!' he replied, rising and looking around as if aroused from a
troubled dream; 'that is for _me_ to do!' Then he added, after a
moment's pause, 'Will you help me to get them into the wagon?'

'Yes, I will, certainly.'

He made one step toward the body of the dead girl, then sinking down
again on the barrel, covered his face with his hands, and cried out: 'My
God! this is terrible! Did you ever see such a look as that? It will
haunt me forever!'

'Come, my friend, rouse yourself--this is weakness; you are tired with
the long ride and excitement of the past few days. Come, go home; I will
look after them.'

'No, no! I must do it. I will be a man again;' and he rose and walked
steadily to the dead bodies. 'Is there any one here to help?' he asked.

Jim was standing in the doorway, and I motioned to him to come fo