“The sinner owns up,” cried Pratt, and Prince grinned till every one of his ivories showed. “Now, Cornwallis, your life will be spared on condition that you make a clean breast of this matter. No more lies; and you must pay for the brandy you drank at the rate of one hundred dollars a gallon—wasn’t that it, Prince?” “A hun’red dollahs a poun’, sah,” corrected Prince. “I doan know how many poun’ I drank,” sniffed the cook, “an’ ef I has to pay dat much fur each one ob ’em, I’s got to wo’k more’n a year fur nothin’.” “That’s better than being drowned to-day,” said I, “and you’d better be thankful. Now tell us how you took the brandy.” “I’s been close to de dahk riber, gents, an’ will perceed to tell de truf,” said Cornwallis, now much relieved after his narrow escape. He looked down at the floor and began in a low tone: “Yo’ see, it was jes’ dis way. Mass’ Warmer, he done brung de brandy an’ say, ‘Put some ob dat in de sass an’ some roun’ de puddin’.’ De las’ was to be sot on fire soon as ’twas on de table. “Wahl, I was stan’in’ lookin’ at de bottle when I heerd a noise. I turn roun’, an’ as shuah as I lib, ef de debil wahn’t right ’side ob me! Oh, he looked orful, an’ I like to died from de shock ob seein’ him. Ef yo’ wants to know what he looks like, jes’ take a good look at dat Prince Sahnders, fur ef him an’ de debil ain’t brudders I’m a cod-fish! “I says, ‘Debil, go ’way. I doan want no trouble wid you.’ But he gib me.a push towa’ds de bottle, and says, reel soft-like, ‘Yo’ pore, mis’able, skinny, oberwo’ked critter, you’s all fadin’ away.’ (Cornwallis weighed at least two hundred.) ’Dere ain’t nothin’ lef’ ob yo’ but skin an’ bone. Jes’ take a drap ob dat liquor, an’ it mought do lots ob good. You’s gittin’ ole, and needs some stimilant.’ “I knowed it was de gospel truf, yo’ understan’, but at de same time it wahn’t right, an’ I tried to put ole Nick out ob de galley. He wahr bigger den me, an’ jes’ made me drink dat brandy till de bottle looked a’most empty. ’Deed I tried to git him out, but ’twan’t no use, an’ ebery drap ob dat liquor done wanished ’fore he quit pesterin’ me. I’d had a misery in my head de hull mawnin’, but I felt right pert arter de brandy was gone. I sot down to reflec’ a spell. “‘Now,’ I says, ‘ef de brandy was to be sot fire to an’ burned up, it am plain dat it can’t be drank.’ I ’lowed dat keerosene ansahs de pu’pose jes’ as well, so I puts it roun’ de puddin’. Golly! how dat ile did burn! I was real dis’pinted ’bout de sass, fur I reckoned dat ile mought pizen yo’. So I lef’ it out, an’ hoped dat fak’ would ’scape de company’s obserbation. “I’s spoke de truf, yo’ understan’, an’ is resolbed to die ’fore I eber agin disto’ts de fak’s.”