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 of sickness, Milada quietly conveyed to him the intelligence that in a poor and lonely hut lay asick man who obtruded his condition on none, and seemed to desire only obscurity. Immediately proceeding to the place designated, Prokop found it tenanted only by a white-haired woman, and a man evidently laid very low by fever aggravated by want. During his delirium the sufferer wandered back to former days, and called up scenes he had shared tn. A moan and a shout interspersed with a hollow laugh, and attempts at hilarity mingled with cries of horror, told of experiences of rough mirth, and furious contention. “Ah, the wood; they sharpened it!” he shouted. “Ah, the fire; not hard enough;” and then with staring eyes he gazed into space and shouted, “Ah, it falls! Dead, dead!” and then with a groan he fell back exhausted. Again a sickly smile stole over his emaciated but puffy face, and he cried: “Sing, tra la la, boys, sing; ah, it is over; we march,—m-a-r-ch,” and again sank into stupor.

Sadly Prokop bethought of Solomon, and a sigh escaped him as he felt his helplessness.

Attention, and soothing drinks could be supplied. Fresh air came in abundance. A strong constitution gradually threw off the fever and then simple food reached reviving appetite; and after ten days recovery seemed fairly assured. Consciousness resumed its functions and Sambor knew that more than one tender hand had smoothed his pillow and held the cup of cooling and yet nourishing drink to his fevered lips.