I made towards the door; but as I did so, the objects around me became confused and mingled, my limbs trembled, and I fell heavily upon the floor.

A pang of dreadful pain shot through me as I fell; my arm was rebroken.

After this I knew no more; all the accumulated excitement of the evening bore down with one fell swoop upon my brain.

Ere day broke, I was delirious.
I have a vague and indistinct remembrance of hurried and anxious faces around my bed, of whispered words and sorrowful looks; but my own thoughts careered over the bold hills of the far west as I trod them in my boyhood, free and high of heart, or recurred to the din and crash of the battle-field, with the mad bounding of the war-horse, and the loud clang of the trumpet.

Perhaps the acute pain of my swollen and suffering arm gave the character to my mental aberration; for I have more than once observed among the wounded in battle, that even when torn and mangled by grape from a howitzer, their ravings have partaken of a high feature of enthusiasm,--shouts of triumph and exclamations of pleasure, even songs have I heard, but never once the low muttering of despair or the half-stifled cry of sorrow and affliction.
Such were the few gleams of consciousness which visited me; and even to such as these I soon became insensible.
Few like to chronicle, fewer still to read, the sad history of a sick-bed.
Of mine, I know but little.