erefore, a very
bad place to send a ship to if you wish her to refit in a hurry; unless,
indeed, the admiral is there to watch over your daily progress, and a
sharp commissioner to expedite your motions in the dockyard. The admiral
was there when we arrived, and we should not have lain there long, had
not the health of Captain Kearney, by the time that we were ready for
sea, been so seriously affected, that the doctor was of opinion that he
could not sail. Another frigate was sent to our intended
cruising-ground, and we lay idle in port. But we consoled ourselves: if
we did not make prize-money, at all events, we were very happy, and the
major part of the officers very much in love.

We had remained in Halifax harbour about three weeks, when a very great
change for the worse took place in Captain Kearney's disease. Disease,
indeed, it could hardly be called. He had been long suffering from the
insidious attacks of a hot climate, and though repeatedly advised to
invalid, he never would consent. His constitution appeared now to be
breaking up. In a few days he was so ill, that, at the request of the
naval surgeons, he consented to be removed to the hospital, where he
could command more comforts than in any private house. He had not been
at the hospital more than two days, when he sent for me, and stated his
wish that I should remain with him. "You know, Peter, that you are a
cousin of mine, and one likes to have one's relations near one when we
are sick, so bring your traps on shore. The doctor has promised me a
nice little room for yourself, and you shall come and sit with me all
day." I certainly had no objection to remain with him, because I
considered it my duty so to do, and I must say that there was no
occasion for me to make any effort to entertain him, as he always
entertained me; but I could not help seriously reflecting, and feeling
much shocked, at a man, lying in so dangerous a state--for the doctors
had pronounced his recovery to be impossible--still continuing a system
of falsehood during the whole day, without intermission. But it really
appeared in him to be innate; and, as Swinburne said, "if he told truth,
it was entirely by mistake."

"Peter," said he, one day, "there's a great draught. Shut the door, and
put on some more coals."

"The fire does not draw well, sir," replied I, "without the door is
open."

"It's astonishing how little people understand the nature of these
things. When I built my hou