trumpet together again, choosing the letters on the lock very
carefully. While he did this he said:

"'The word is no more Corunna, but Bayonne. As you left out an 'n'
in Corunna, so must I leave out an 'n' in Bayonne.' And before
snapping the padlock, he spelt out the word slowly--'B-A-Y-O-N-E.'
After that, he used no more speech; but turned and hung the two
instruments back on the hook; and then took the trumpeter by the arm;
and the pair walked out into the darkness, glancing neither to right
nor left.

"My father was on the point of following, when he heard a sort of
sigh behind him; and there, sitting in the elbow-chair, was the
very trumpeter he had just seen walk out by the door! If my father's
heart jumped before, you may believe it jumped quicker now.
But after a bit, he went up to the man asleep in the chair, and put a
hand upon him. It was the trumpeter in flesh and blood that he
touched; but though the flesh was warm, the trumpeter was dead.

"Well, sir, they buried him three days after; and at first my father
was minded to say nothing about his dream (as he thought it).
But the day after the funeral, he met Parson Kendall coming from
Helston market: and the parson called out: 'Have 'ee heard the news
the coach brought down this mornin'?' 'What news?' says my father.
'Why, that peace is agreed upon.' 'None too soon,' says my father.
'Not soon enough for our poor lads at Bayonne,' the parson answered.
'Bayonne!' cries my father, with a jump. 'Why, yes'; and the parson
told him all about a great sally the French had made on the night of
April 13th. 'Do you happen to know if the 38th Regiment was
engaged?' my father asked. 'Come, now,' said Parson Kendall,