ho had recovered from his weakness, asked him his
candid opinion. "We must hope for the best, sir," replied the surgeon.

"That is to say, there is no hope," replied the Major; "and I feel that
you are right. How long do you think that I may live?"

"If the wound does not take a favourable turn, about forty-eight hours,
sir," replied the surgeon; "but we must hope for a more fortunate
issue."

"In a death-bed case you medical men are like lawyers," replied the
Major, "there is no getting a straightforward answer from you. Where is
Mr Newland?"

"Here I am, Carbonnell," said I, taking his hand.

"My dear fellow, I know it is all over with me, and you, of course, know
it as well as I do. Do not think that it is a source of much regret to
me to leave this rascally world--indeed it is not; but I do feel sorry,
very sorry, to leave you. The doctor tells me I shall live forty-eight
hours; but I have an idea that I shall not live so many minutes. I feel
my strength gradually failing me. Depend upon it, my dear Newland, there
is an internal hemorrhage. My dear fellow, I shall not be able to speak
soon. I have left you my executor and sole heir. I wish there was more
for you--it will last you, however, till you come of age. That was a
lucky hit last night, but a very unlucky one this morning. Bury me like
a gentleman."

"My dear Carbonnell," said I, "would you not like to see somebody--a
clergyman?"

"Newland, excuse me. I do not refuse it out of disrespect, or because I
do not believe in the tenets of Christianity; but I cannot believe that
my repentance at this late hour can be of any avail. If I have not been
sorry for the life I have lived--if I have not had my moments of
remorse--if I have not promised to amend, and intended to have so done,
and I trust I have--what avails my repentance now? No, no, Japhet, as I
have sown so must I reap, and trust to the mercy of Heaven. God only
knows all our hearts, and I would fain believe that I may find more
favour in the eyes of the Almighty, than I have in this world from those
who--but we must not judge. Give me to drink, Japhet--I am sinking fast.
God bless you, my dear fellow."

The Major sank on his pillow, after he had moistened his lips, and spoke
no more. With his hand clasped in mine he gradually sank, and in a
quarter of an hour his eyes were fixed, and all was over. He was right
in his conjectures--an artery had been divided, and he had bled to
death. The surgeon