Julius, bring in that box of cigars." While Julius, who resembled his illustrious namesake as little in celerity of movement as he did in complexion, was coming, the Surgeon prepared a paper, which he presented to Harry, saying: "There, that'll keep you off duty to-morrow.

After that, we'll see what can be done." Julius arrived with the cigars as tardily as if he had had to cross a Rubicon in the back room.

Two were lighted, and the Surgeon settled himself for a chat.
"Have you become tired of soldier-life ?" asked he, studying Harry's face for the effect of the question.
"I can not say that I have become tired of it," said Harry, frankly, "because I must admit that I never had the slightest inclination to it.
I had less fancy for becoming a soldier than for any other honorable pursuit that you could mention." "Then you only joined the army--" "From a sense of duty merely," said Harry, knocking the ashes from his cigar.
"And the physical and other discomforts now begin to weight nearly as much as that sense of duty ?" "Not at all.

It only seems to me that there are more of them than are absolutely essential to the performance of that duty.

I want to be of service to the country, but I would prefer that that service be not made unnecessarily onerous." "Quite natural; quite natural." "For example, how have the fatigues and pains of my afternoon's chopping contributed a particle toward the suppression of the rebellion?
What have my blistered hands to do with the hurts of actual conflict ?" "Let us admit that the connection is somewhat obscure," said Doctor Denslow, philosophically.
"It is easier for you, than for me, to view the matter calmly.