invalided men, for the rest of their lives."

"Do you hear that?" said Sir Patrick, looking at Geoffrey.

Geoffrey carelessly nodded his head. His irritation had had time to
subside; the stolid indifference had got possession of him again. He had
resumed his chair--he sat, with outstretched legs, staring stupidly
at the pattern on the carpet. "What does it matter to Me?" was the
sentiment expressed all over him, from head to foot.

The surgeon went on.

"I can see no remedy for this sad state of things," he said, "as long
as the public feeling remains what the public feeling is now. A fine
healthy-looking young man, with a superb muscular development,
longs (naturally enough) to distinguish himself like others. The
training-authorities at his college, or elsewhere, take him in hand
(naturally enough again) on the strength of outward appearances. And
whether they have been right or wrong in choosing him is more than they
can say, until the experiment has been tried, and the mischief has been,
in many cases, irretrievably done. How many of them are aware of the
important physiological truth, that the muscular power of a man is no
fair guarantee of his vital power? How many of them know that we all
have (as a great French writer puts it) two lives in us--the surface
life of the muscles, and the inner life of the heart, lungs, and brain?
Even if they did know this--even with medical men to help them--it would
be in the last degree doubtful, in most cases, whether any previous
examination would result in any reliable discovery of the vital fitness
of the man to undergo the stress of muscular exertion laid on him. Apply
to any of my brethren; and they will tell you, as the result of their