Effingham."
Mr. Monday did not stand it. The illusion produced by the liquor, although
the latter still sustained his pulses, had begun to evaporate, and the
melancholy truth resumed its power.
"I believe, indeed, that I am near my end, gentlemen," he said faintly;
and am thankful--for--for this consolation."
"Now will be a good time to throw in the chapter," whispered Leach; "he
seems quite conscious, and very contrite."
Captain Truck, in pure despair, and conscious of his own want of judgment,
had determined to leave the question of the selection of this chapter to
be decided by chance. Perhaps a little of that mysterious dependence on
Providence which renders all men more or less superstitions, influenced
him; and that he hoped a wisdom surpassing his own might direct him to a
choice. Fortunately, the book of Psalms is near the middle of the sacred
volume, and a better disposition of this sublime repository of pious
praise and spiritual wisdom could not have been made; for the
chance-directed peruser of the Bible will perhaps oftener open among its
pages than at any other place.
If we should say that Mr. Monday felt any very profound spiritual relief
from the reading of Captain Truck, we should both overrate the manner of
the honest sailor, and the intelligence of the dying man.
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