the courier borrowed liberally from the night, it was past cock-crow
when they reached their destination.

The old gentleman was "in articulo," or as sailors would say, he was
already "hove short," and ready to trip his anchor.

"Up stairs, master Frank," exclaimed the old butler to my father, "the
general will be in heaven in half an hour, glory to the Virgin!"

I shall never forget my fathers description of the parting scene.
Propped by half a dozen pillows, the old man gasped hard for breath,
but the appearance of his grandson appeared to rouse the dormant
functions of both mind and body; and although there were considerable
breaks between each sentence, he thus delivered his valedictory
advice. Often has the departure of Commodore Trunnion been recalled to
memory by the demise of my honored relative.

"Frank," said the old fox-hunter to my father, "the summons is come,
as we used to say when I was a dragoon, to 'boot and saddle.' I told
the doctor a month ago that my wind was touched, but he would have it
that I was only a whistler."

He paused for breath.

"The best horse that ever bore pig-skin on his back, won't stand too
many calls--ugh! ugh! ugh!"

Another pause.

"I bless God that my conscience is tolerably clean. Widow or orphan I