Chapter 39 No.39

Sic Sinuerunt Fata.

On reaching the Camp, I recognized there the identical American Kenworthy.

I gave him a fearful look. I suspected my doom to be sealed.

The soldiers were drinking 'ad libitum' from a pannikin which they dipped into a pail-bucket full of brandy. I shall not prostitute my hand, and write down the vile exultations of a mob

            
            

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