Governor said that, as praying could not do anybody any harm, he reckoned he would, to please Dely, though he did not see the use of it. They all knelt, and this humble handmaid of the Lord, who was peculiarly gifted in prayer, offered up a fervent petition in behalf of the prisoners, and especially for Governor. They had just risen from their knees, when the door of the cell was opened, and the jailer entered, accompanied by another official, who nodded to the inmates, and then, beckoning to Valentine, requested him to step forward. Valentine obeyed, and the man, drawing a measuring-line from his pocket, told him to stand up straight. Valentine drew himself up with as much composure as ever he had shown when, in his earlier days, he was getting himself fitted for a Sunday suit of clothes. The operator proceeded to measure his subject across the shoulders. And when this was done, he stopped, drew a paper and pencil from his pocket, and, leaning on Valentine's late ironing table, put down some figures. Then he took the line again, and carefully measured him from the crown of his head to the heels of his shoes, and made a second note. Then telling Valentine that he was done with him, he beckoned to Governor, who had been looking on with open-mouthed amazement, and who now came forward, and braced himself up with the utmost alacrity and cheerfulness. Indeed, he was smiling from ear to ear, as he exclaimed, triumphantly: "Tell you all so! We ain't had no winter clothes guv us yet, and dey's done sent de tailor to fit us!" The operator with the line, on hearing this, dropped his measure, and, with emotions divided between astonishment and compassion, gazed at the poor wretch, who remained smiling in delight. No one else spoke, and, after a moment, the official picked up his line and resumed his work. "Wen'll de clothes be ready for me?" inquired Governor, with great interest. "I am not taking your size for clothes," answered the operator, gravely. "No! What den?" inquired Governor, in astonishment, but without the least suspicion of the truth. "Don't you know?" "No! I doesn't! What is it?" "Well, you know, at least, that you are to die to-morrow. And I am measuring you for your coffin." Governor made no reply, neither did the smile pass at once from his face. He no longer refused to believe in his approaching fate, but the idea was very slow in penetrating his brain. The carpenter, having now completed his errand, left the cell in company with the turnkey. Governor went and resumed his seat upon the side of his cot, and remained perfectly silent, only not as cheerful as he had been, and occasionally putting up his hand and rubbing his head, and seeming to ponder. At last he said, dubiously, however: