s tale rudely narrated, and not always with the sort of
comment that went with my sympathies, I sorrowed sincerely over it, for
I guessed upon whom these events had fallen, and recognized poor old
Vaterchen and the dark-eyed Tintefleck.

"You 've fallen into the black melancholies these some days back," said
Rogers to me. "Rouse up, and take a cruise with me. I 'm going over to
Balaklava with these steam-boilers, and then to Sinope, and so back to
the Bosphorus. Come aboard to-night, it will do you good."

I took his counsel, and at noon next day we dropped anchor at Balaklava.
We had scarcely passed our "health papers," when a boat came out with a
message to inquire if we had a doctor on board who could speak English,
for the American contractor had fallen from one of the scaffolds that
morning, and was lying dreadfully injured up at Sebastopol, but unable
to explain himself to the Russian surgeons. I was not without some small
skill in medicine; and, besides, out of common humanity, I felt it my
duty to set out, and at about sunset I reached Sebastopol.

Being supposed to be a physician of great skill and eminence, I was
treated by all the persons about with much deference, and, after very
few minutes' delay, introduced into the room where the sick man lay.
He had ordered that when an English doctor could be found, they were to
leave them perfectly alone together; so that, as I entered, the door
was closed immediately, and I found myself alone by the bedside of the
sufferer. The curtain was closely drawn across the windows, and it was
already dusk, so that all I could discover was the figure of a man, who
lay breathing very heavily, and with the irregular action that implies
great pain.

"Are you English?" said he, in a strong, full voice. "Well, feel that
pulse, and tell me if it means sinking; I suspect it does."

I took his hand and laid my finger on the artery. It was beating
furiously,--far too fast to count, but not weakly nor faintly.

"No," said I; "this is fever, but not debility."

"I don't want subtleties," rejoined he, roughly. "I want to know am I
dying? Draw the curtain there, open the window full, and have a look at
me."

I did as he bade me, and returned to the bedside. It was all I could do
not to cry out with astonishment; for, though terribly disfigured by his
wounds, his eyes actually covered by the torn scalp that hung over them,
I saw that it was Harpar lay before me, his large reddish be