243
then springing up, she caught her son by the arm, continuing to cry, help, help, in a wild and mournful voice, till her strength was exhausted, and she again sunk upon her pillow. The feelings of her son may perhaps be imagined, but cannot be described: nor were any of the by-standers unaffected by the scene. Even the rough soldier, though little accustomed to the melting mood, felt all the sympathies of his nature working in his breast. He was not, however, forgetful of his duty; for while Mrs Mason was administering a cordial to the poor mother, he drew his prisoner from the room. On Mrs Mason's returning to the outer room, she found him standing over his father's bed; his eye fixed upon the altered countenance of the dying man, who, since the entrance of the soldiers, had never shewn any other sign of sensibility, than the utterance of a faint groan. He was now speechless, but his hands were lifted up in the attitude of prayer. "Come, my brethren," said the
