for a week past.

On the sixth evening, Mr. Fugler announced a sudden fancy to "touch
pipe."

"Hey?" said the Doctor, opening his eyes.

"I'd like to tetch pipe. An' let me light the brimstone mysel'.
I likes to see the little blue flame turn yellow, a-dancin' on the
baccy."

"Get 'n his pipe and baccy, missis," the Doctor commanded. "He may
kill himself clean-off now: the band'll be ready by the funeral,
anyway."

On the three following evenings Mr. Fugler sat up and smoked during
band practice, the Doctor observing him with a new interest.
The tenth day, the Doctor was called away to attend a child-birth at
Downderry. At the conclusion of the cornet solo, with which M.
Trinquier regularly opened practice, the sick man said--

"Wife, get me out my clothes."

"WHAT!"

"Get me out my clothes."

"You're mad! It'll be your death."

"I don't care: the band's ready. Uncle Issy got his part perfect
las' night, an' that's more'n I ever prayed to hear. Get me out my
clothes an' help me downstairs."

The Doctor was far away. Mrs. Fugler was forced to give in.
Weeping, and with shaking hands, she dressed him and helped him to
the foot of the stairs, where she threw open the parlour door.

"No," he said, "I'm not goin' in there. I'll be steppin' across to
the Town Hall. Gi'e me your arm."

Thomas Tripconey was rehearsing upon the serpent when the door of the
Town Hall opened: and the music he made died away in a wail, as of a
dog whose foot has been trodden on. William Henry Phippin's eldest
son Archelaus cast his triangle down and shrieked "Ghosts, ghosts!"
Uncle Issy cowered behind his bass-viol and put a hand over his eyes.
M. Trinquier spun round to face the intruder, baton in one hand,
cornet in the other.

"Thank 'ee, friends," said Mr. Fugler, dropping into a seat by the
door, and catching breath: "you've got it very suent. 'Tis a
beautiful tune: an' I'm ha'f ashamed to tell 'ee that I bain't
a-goin' to die, this time."

Nor did he.

The East and West Looe Volunteer Artillery was disbanded a few weeks
later, on the last day of the year 1809. The Corporations of the Two
Boroughs entertained the heroes that evening to a complimentary
banquet in the East Looe Town Hall, and Sergeant Fugler had recovered
sufficiently to attend, though not to partake. The Doctor made a
speech over him, proving him by statistics to be the most wonderful
member of the most wonderful corps in the world. The D