ced to death for a breach of discipline of which I was
guilty. Had I failed in the achievement of my enterprise by the bullet
of an enemy, they would have named me with honour; but I have had the
misfortune of success, and to-morrow am I to pay its penalty. I have the
satisfaction, however, of knowing that my share in that great day can
neither be denied nor evaded; it is already on record, and the time may
yet come when my memory will be vindicated. I know not if these lines
be legible, nor if I have crossed or recrossed them. If they are blotted
they are not my tears have done it, for I have a firm heart and a good
courage; and when the moment comes----' Here my hand trembled so much,
and my brain grew so dizzy, that I lost the thread of my meaning,
and merely jotted down at random a few words, vague, unconnected, and
unintelligible, after which, and by an effort that cost all my strength,
I wrote 'Maurice Tiernay, late Hussar of the 9th Regiment.'

A hearty burst of tears followed the conclusion of this letter; all the
pent-up emotion with which my heart was charged broke out at last, and
I cried bitterly. Intense passions are, happily, never of long duration,
and, better still, they are always the precursors of calm. Thus,
tranquil, the dawn of morn broke upon me, when the sergeant came to
take my letter, and apprise me that the adjutant would appear in a few
moments to read my sentence, and inform me when it was to be executed.

'Thou'It bear up well, lad; I know thou wilt,' said the poor fellow,
with tears in his eyes. 'Thou hast no mother, and thou 'lt not have to
grieve for her.'

'Don't be afraid, sergeant; I'll not disgrace the old 9th. Tell my
comrades I said so.'

'I will. I will tell them all! Is this thy jacket, lad?'

'Yes; what do you want it for?'

'I must take it away with me. Thou art not to wear it more?'

'Not wear it, nor die in it! and why not?'

'That is the sentence, lad; I cannot help it. It's very hard, very
cruel; but so it is.'

'Then I am to die dishonoured, sergeant; is that the sentence?'

He dropped his head, and I could see that he moved his sleeve across his
eyes; and then, taking up my jacket, he came towards me.

'Remember, lad, a stout heart; no flinching. Adieu--God bless thee.' He
kissed me on either cheek, and went out.

He had not been gone many minutes, when the tramp of marching outside
apprised me of the coming of the adjutant, and the door of my cell being
thro