“Fully impressed for the moment that we were stationed together in Ireland or somewhere, and thinking I was in my barrack-room, I said, ‘Hello, P., am I late for parade?’ P. looked at me steadily, and replied, ‘I’m shot!’
“‘Shot!’ I exclaimed, ‘Good God, how and where?’
“‘Through the lungs,’ replied P.; and as he spoke his right hand moved slowly up to his breast, until the fingers rested over the right lung.
“‘What were you doing?’ I asked.
“‘The General sent me forward,’ he answered; and the right hand left the breast to move slowly to the front, pointing over my head to the window, and at the same moment the figure melted away. I rubbed my eyes, to make sure I was not dreaming, and sprang out of bed. It was then 4.10 a.m. by the clock on my mantelpiece.
“Two days later news was received that he had been killed at Lang’s Neck between 11 and 12 o’clock on the night in question.”
The following is a nautical story: