pt upon my own life.
At length the goodness of my constitution triumphed over the violence of
my disorder; but my peace of mind was gone for ever. My worthy friend,
the captain, to whom I confided my story, did everything in his power to
rouse me from my sorrow, and to reconcile me to myself; but in vain. The
sight of my brother had recalled the vivid recollection of by-gone
scenes, which I had been for years steeling my heart to forget; my
spirit was broken, I became listless and indifferent, and no longer felt
any interest in my profession. I did my duty, to be sure; but it was
mechanically--from the force of habit. Captain Rose was ceaseless in his
kindness. When, on our return home, I expressed my determination not to
go to sea again, he represented my conduct during the action, and on
other occasions, in such glowing terms, to the owners, that they settled
a small annuity upon me, in consideration of the wounds I had received
in their service. It was with the deepest regret I took leave of my
worthy friend and captain.

"I can never forget," said he, "that, but for you, my children would
have been fatherless, my wife a widow; whenever you need the assistance
of a friend, Douglas, apply to me with as much confidence as to a
brother."

He then offered to evince his regard in a more substantial manner, which
I firmly but gratefully declined. I wrote to him afterwards, telling him
that I had settled in this neighbourhood, and requesting him to make
arrangements that my annuity might be made payable to a certain firm in
Glasgow. In reply, he wrote me a long and affectionate letter. It was
the first and last I ever had from him; he died soon afterwards. It is
now five years since I took up my abode here, and I feel the weakness
and infirmities of age creeping fast upon me. Oh! how happily will I lay
down the weary load of life!

"Douglas," said I, when he had finished his story, "you certainly have
had grievous sorrows and trials; but you have borne them nobly, except
in wilfully attaching the odium of crime to the unfortunate
circumstances of your brother's death."

"Would that I could think as you do!" said he.

We parted: and four years elapsed before we met again. I had, in
the meantime, commenced practice as a surgeon in Glasgow, and my
professional avocations kept me too constantly employed to allow of my
leaving the town. At last, after a severe attack of illness, I was
recommended to go to the sea-side for