--a simple soldier
of the ranks. A few slight wounds, a few still more insignificant words of
praise, were all that I brought back with me; but if my trophies were
small, I had gained considerably both in habits of discipline and
obedience. I had learned to endure, ably and without complaining, the
inevitable hardships of a campaign, and better still, to see, that the
irrepressible impulses of the soldier, however prompted by zeal or
heroism, may oftener mar than promote the more mature plans of his
general. Scarcely had my feet once more touched French ground, than I was
seized with the ague, then raging as an epidemic among the troops, and
sent forward with a large detachment of sick to the Military Hospital of
Strasbourg.

Here I bethought me of my patron, Colonel Mahon, and determined to write
to him. For this purpose I addressed a question to the Adjutant-general's
office to ascertain the colonel's address. The reply was a brief and
stunning one--he had been dismissed the service. No personal calamity could
have thrown me into deeper affliction; nor had I even the sad consolation
of learning any of the circumstances of this misfortune. His death, even
though thereby I should have lost my only friend, would have been a
lighter evil than this disgrace; and coming as did the tidings when I was
already broken by sickness and defeat, more than ever disgusted me with a
soldier's life. It was then with a feeling of total indifference that I
heard a rumor which at another moment would have filled me with
enthusiasm--the order for all invalids sufficiently well to be removed, to
be drafted into regiments serving in Italy. The fame of Bonaparte, who
commanded that army, had now surpassed that of all the other generals; his
victories paled the glory of their successes, and it was already a mark of
distinction to have served under his command.

The walls of the hospital were scrawled over with the names of his
victories; rude sketches of Alpine passes, terrible ravines, or snow-clad
peaks met the eye every where; and the one magical name, "Bonaparte,"
written beneath, seemed the key to all their meaning. With him war seemed
to assume all the charms of romance. Each action was illustrated by feats
of valor or heroism, and a halo of glory seemed to shine over all the
achievements of his genius.

It was a clear, bright morning of March, when a light frost sharpened the
air, and a fair, blue sky overhead showed a cloudless elast