t 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
in 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 efforts 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 to 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 house called Welcot Abbey, there was not a
chimney would draw; I sent for the architect and abused him, but he
could not manage it; I was obliged to do it myself."

"Did you manage it, sir?"

"Manage it--I think I did. The first time I lighted the fire, I opened
the door, and the draught was so great, that my little boy William, who
was standing in the current of air, would have gone right up the
chimney, if I had not caught him by the petticoats; as it was, his frock