“I have been sent to inquire after some passengers that came out here last year.” “Oh yes, I can tell all that can be told,” said the clerk, readily. “We have the registration books here, and you are at liberty to look up any names you wish. Step this way, please.” And he led the way to an inner office. “What year did they come out in?” asked the clerk. “Last year.” “Last year--an awful year to look up. 1846--yes, here is the book for that year--a year which you are aware was an unparalleled one.” “I have heard so.” “Do you know the name of the ship?” “The _Tecumseh_.” “The _Tecumseh_!” exclaimed the clerk, with a startled look. “That is an awful name in our records. I am sorry you have not another name to examine, for the _Tecumseh_ was the worst of all.” Brandon bowed. “The _Tecumseh_,” continued the clerk, turning over the leaves of the book as it lay on the desk. “The _Tecumseh_, from Liverpool, sailed June 2, arrived August 16. Here you see the names of those who died at sea, copied from the ship’s books, and those who died on shore. It is a frightful mortality. Would you like to look over the list?” Brandon bowed and advanced to the desk. “The deaths on board ship show whether they were seamen or passengers, and the passengers are marked as cabin and steerage. But after landing it was impossible to keep an account of classes.” Brandon carefully ran his eye down the long list, and read each name. Those for which he looked did not appear. At last he came to the list of those who had died on shore. After reading a few names his eye was arrested by one-- “_Brandon, Elizabeth_.” It was his mother. He read on. He soon came to another-- “_Brandon, Edith_.” It was his sister. “Do you find any of the names?” asked the clerk, seeing Brandon turn his head. “Yes,” said Brandon; “this is one,” and he pointed to the last name. “But I see a mark opposite that name. What is it? ‘B’ and ‘A.’ What is the meaning?” “Is that party a relative of yours?” “No,” said Brandon. “You don’t mind hearing something horrible, then?” “No.” The clerk drew a long breath. “Well, Sir, those letters were written by the late superintendent. The poor man is now a lunatic. He was here last year. “You see this is how it was: The ship-fever broke out. The number of sick was awful, and there were no preparations for them here. The disease in some respects was worse than cholera, and there was nothing but confusion. Very many died from lack of nursing. But the worst feature of the whole thing was the hurried burials. “I was not here last year, and all who were here then have left. But I’ve heard enough to make me sick with horror. You perhaps are aware that in this ship-fever there sometimes occurs a total loss of sense, which is apt to be mistaken for death?” The clerk paused. Brandon regarded him steadily for a moment. Then he turned, and looked earnestly at the book. “The burials were very hastily made.” “Well?”