"Look a here; I've got a pair a earbobs and a handkercher pin I'm
a goin' to give you, if you'll have them; for you're the very
moral o' Lizy Sylvester, poor Eph's wife: that's why I signalled
you to come over here. They aint much, I guess, but they'll do to
memorize the rebs by."

Burrowing under his pillow, he produced a little bundle of what
he called "truck," and gallantly presented me with a pair of
earrings, each representing a cluster of corpulent grapes, and
the pin a basket of astonishing fruit, the whole large and
coppery enough for a small warming-pan. Feeling delicate about
depriving him of such valuable relics, I accepted the earrings
alone, and was obliged to depart, somewhat abruptly, when my
friend stuck the warming-pan in the bosom of his night-gown,
viewing it with much complacency, and, perhaps, some tender
memory, in that rough heart of his, for the comrade he had lost.

Observing that the man next him had left his meal untouched, I
offered the same service I had performed for his neighbor, but he
shook his head.

"Thank you, ma'am; I don't think I'll ever eat again, for I'm
shot in the stomach. But I'd like a drink of water, if you aint
too busy."

I rushed away, but the water-pails were gone to be refilled, and
it was some time before they reappeared. I did not forget my
patient patient, meanwhile, and, with the first mugful, hurried
back to him. He seemed asleep; but something in the tired white