greatest physicians of the day was called in, but only to make
unavailing efforts.

Colonel Brownlow arrived in the middle of the day, and was
thunderstruck at the new and terrible disaster. He was a large, tall
man, with a good-humoured, weather-beaten face, and an unwieldy,
gouty figure; and he stood, with his eyes brimming over with tears,
looking at his brother, and at first unable to read the one word Joe
traced for him—-for writing had become a great effort-—"Carey."

"We will do our best for her, Ellen and I, my dear fellow. But
you'll soon be better. Horrid things, these quinsies; but they pass
off."

Poor Joe half-smiled at this confident opinion, but he merely wrung
his brother's hand, and only twice more took up the pencil-—once to
write the name of the clergyman he wished to see, and lastly to put
down the initials of all his children: "Love to you all. Let God and
your mother be first with you.-—J. B."

The daylight of the second morning had come in before that deadly
suffocation had finished its work, and the strong man's struggles
were ended.

When Colonel Brownlow tried to raise his sister-in-law, he found her
fainting, and, with Dr. Lucas's help, carried her to another room,
where she lay, utterly exhausted, in a kind of faint stupor,
apparently unconscious of anything but violent headache, which made
her moan from time to time, if anything stirred her. Dr. Lucas
thought this the effect of exhaustion, for she had not slept, and