This did
not last long; for he soon relapsed into his first state, only with his
face a little more pinched and screwed up, and his eyes strangely sunken.
And lost in his head; and the surgeon said that there would be no use in
my remaining. So I took my leave. Mr. Wilding had brought a deposition
of the man's evidence, which he had clearly made at the Consulate, for
him to sign, and this we left with the surgeon, in case there should be
such an interval of consciousness and intelligence before death as to
make it possible for him to sign it. But of this there is no
probability.
I have just received a note from the hospital, stating that the sailor,
Daniel Smith, died about three quarters of an hour after I saw him.
May 18th.--The above-mentioned Daniel Smith had about him a bundle of
letters, which I have examined. They are all very yellow, stained with
sea-water, smelling of bad tobacco-smoke, and much worn at the folds.
Never were such ill-written letters, nor such incredibly fantastic
spelling. They seem to be from various members of his family,--most of
them from a brother, who purports to have been a deck-hand in the
coasting and steamboat trade between Charleston and other ports; others
from female relations; one from his father, in which he inquires how long
his son has been in jail, and when the trial is to come on,--the offence,
however, of which he was accused, not being indicated. But from the
tenor of his brother's letters, it would appear that he was a small
farmer in the interior of South Carolina, sending butter, eggs, and
poultry to be sold in Charleston by his brother, and receiving the
returns in articles purchased there.
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