nergy, youth, and strength. If Canada were not bound hand and foot
to the throne of the French tyrant, she would be a more formidable
foe to tackle than she can show herself now."

"Yet she has done us grievous hurt. We seem able to make no headway
against her, in spite of our best efforts."

"Let us see what better efforts we can make then," cried Wolfe,
with eager eyes. "Best! why, man, we have done nothing but
procrastinate and blunder, till my ears tingle with shame as I read
the story! But we are awakening at last, and we have a man to look
to who is no blunderer. The tide will turn ere long, you will see;
and when it does, may I be there to see and to bear my share!"

Julian looked at the gaunt, prostrate form of the soldier, and said
gravely:

"But you are surely in no fit state for military service?"

Wolfe threw back his head with a little gesture of impatience, and
then smiled brightly.

"This carcass of mine has been a source of trouble and pain to me
from my boyhood, and there come moments when I must needs give it a
little rest. But yet I have found that it can carry me through the
necessary fatigues with a vigour I had scarcely expected of it. It
is being patched up again after a hard campaign; and now that the
summer has closed, nothing can be set afoot till the spring comes.
By that time I shall be fit for service once more, you will see. I
am taking the waters of Bath with sedulous care. They have done
much for me as it is. Soon I trust to be hale and sound once more."

"Have you been wounded, sir?"

"Many times, but not seriously; only that everything tells when one
is afflicted by such a rickety body as this," and the young officer
smiled his peculiarly brilliant smile, which made the chief charm
of his pale, unusual face. "I got both a wound and a severe strain
in my last campaign, which has bothered me ever since, and still
keeps me to my couch the greater part of the day. But rheumatism is
my chronic foe; it follows me wherever I go, lying in wait to
pounce upon me, and hold me a cripple in its red-hot iron hand.
That is the trouble of my life on the march. It is so often all but
impossible to get through the day's work, and yet it is wonderful
how the foe can be held at bay when some task has to be done
whether or not.

"But a truce to such talk! A soldier has other things to think of
than aching joints and weary bones. A man can but once die for his
country, and that is all I ask to d