ds, came up to Spicer, and
asked him how he felt. "Pretty well, doctor," said he.

"Come, we must look at your leg, my man; it will require dressing. Is
it very painful?"

"Why, yes, sir; it has been very painful indeed all night."

The hospital mates unbandaged Spicer's leg, and took off the poultices,
and I was horrified when I saw the state which his leg was in: one mass
of ulceration from the middle of the thigh down to half-way below his
knee, and his ankle and foot swelled twice their size, a similar
inflammation extending up to his hip. The doctor compressed his lips,
and looked very grave. He removed some pieces of flesh, it was then
cleaned, and fresh poultices put on.

"Doctor," said Spicer, who had watched his countenance, "they say in the
hospital that you have stated that I cannot live. Now, I should wish to
know your opinion myself on this subject, as I believe I am the most
interested party."

"Why, my man," said the doctor, "you certainly are in great danger, and
if you have any affairs to settle, perhaps it will be prudent so to do."

"That's a quiet way of saying there is no hope for me; is it not,
doctor?" replied Spicer.

"I fear, my good man, there is very little."

"Tell me plainly, sir, if you please," replied Spicer; "is there _any_?"

"I am afraid that there is not, my good man; it's unpleasant to say so,
but perhaps it is kindness to tell the truth."

"Well, sir, that is honest. May I ask you how long I may expect to
live?"

"That will depend upon when the mortification takes place, about three
days; after that, my poor fellow, you will probably be no more. Would
you like the chaplain to come and see you?"

"Thank you, sir; when I do I'll send for him."

The doctor and the attendants went away to the other patients. I was
silent. At last Spicer spoke.

"Well, Jack, you were right; so it is all over with me. Somehow or
another, although I bore up against it, I had an inkling of it myself,
the pain has been so dreadful. Well, we can die but once, and I shall
die game."

"Spicer," said I, "that you will die without fear I know very well; but
still, you know that you should not die without feeling sorry for the
sins you have committed, and praying for pardon. We have all of us, the
very best of us, to make our peace with Heaven; so, had I not better
tell the chaplain to come and talk with you?"

"No, Jack, no; I want no parsons praying by my side. What's done is
do