lie on his wounded back or suffocate. It will be a hard struggle and
a long one, for he possesses great vitality; but even his temperate
life can't save him; I wish it could."

"You don't mean he must die, Doctor?"

"Bless you, there's not the slightest hope for him; and you'd better
tell him so before long; women have a way of doing such things
comfortably, so I leave it to you. He won't last more than a day or
two, at furthest."

I could have sat down on the spot and cried heartily, if I had not
learned the wisdom of bottling up one's tears for leisure moments.
Such an end seemed very hard for such a man, when half a dozen
worn-out, worthless bodies round him were gathering up the remnants
of wasted lives, to linger on for years perhaps, burdens to others,
daily reproaches to themselves. The army needed men like
John,--earnest, brave, and faithful; fighting for liberty and
justice with both heart and hand, true soldiers of the Lord. I could
not give him up so soon, or think with any patience of so excellent
a nature robbed of its fulfilment, and blundered into eternity by
the rashness or stupidity of those at whose hands so many lives may
be required. It was an easy thing for Dr. P. to say, "Tell him he
must die," but a cruelly hard thing to do, and by no means as
"comfortable" as he politely suggested. I had not the heart to do it
then, and privately indulged the hope that some change for the
better might take place, in spite of gloomy prophecies, so,
rendering my task unnecessary. A few minutes later, as I came in
again with fresh rollers, I saw John sitting erect, with no one to
support him, while the surgeon dressed his back. I had never