Then, my boy, did Captain Villiam Brown evidence that exquisite quality of our humanity, which bids us forget all wrongs and enmities at the eloquent appeal of death. No sooner had Captain Bob Shorty made the above remark, than his whole aspect changed to pity, and he feelingly knelt beside the miserable captive.
"Have you any last request to make, poor inseck?" asked Villiam, much affected.
The misguided Confederacy was speechless; but made an attempt to scratch his breast.
"Ah!" says Villiam, with deep emotion, "you mean that your conscience is a still small woice."
Here the Confederacy scratched his left leg feebly; and says Captain Bob Shorty:
"According to your rule, Villiam, his conscience must be quite large, extending to his legs."
Nervously arose Captain Villiam Brown to his feet, with such a shudder running through his manly frame as caused every brass button to jingle.
"I think," says Villiam, with a ghastly smile, "that some of his conscience is a-walking softly down my backbone, with a hop now and then."
Alas! my boy, we all have consciences, save green grocers and fashionable bootmakers; and who among us but has felt his conscience to be at times almost totally disregarded, until it has finally brought him to the scratch by turning to flee?
Scarcely was Fort Bledandide recovered by the valor of our arms when the General of the Mackerel Brigade let fly the following