The gentlemen began talking together about the difference between this quiet scene and that of November last year: when, Sebastopol taken, the army was making up its mind to winter in idleness, as merrily as it could. And then Doctor Urquhart reverted to the former winter, the terrible time--until its miseries reached and touched the English heart at home. And yet, as Doctor Urquhart said, such misery seems often to evoke the noblest half of man's nature. Many an anecdote, proving this, he told about "his poor fellows," as he called them; tales of heroism, patient endurance, unselfishness and generosity,--such as, in the mysterious agency of providence, are always developed by that great purifier as well as avenger, war. Listening, my cheek burnt to think I had ever said I hated soldiers. It is a solemn question, too momentous for human wisdom to decide upon, and, probably, never meant to be decided in this world--the justice of carnage, the necessity of war. But thus far I am convinced--and intend, the first opportunity, to express my thanks to Doctor Urquhart for having taught me the lesson--that to set one's self in fierce aversion against any class as a class, is both foolish and wicked. We should "hate" nobody. The Christian warfare is never against sinners, but against sin. Speaking of the statistics of mortality in the army, Doctor Urquhart surprised us by stating how small a percentage--bless me, I am beginning to talk like a blue-book--results from death in battle and from wounds. And strange as it may appear, the mortality in a? campaign, with all its fatal chances, is less than in barracks at home. He has long suspected this, from the accounts of the men, and having lately, from clear data, ascertained its accuracy, intends urging it at the Horse Guards, or failing there, in the public press,--that the causes may be inquired into and remedied. It will be at some personal risk: Government never likes being meddled with; but he seems the sort of man who, having once got an idea into his head, would pursue it to the death--and very right too. If I had been a man, I would have done exactly the same. All this while, I have never told--that thing. It came out, as well as I can remember, thus:--. Doctor Urquhart was saying that the average mortality of soldiers in barracks was higher than that of any corresponding class of workingmen. He attributes this to want of space? cleanliness, fresh air, and good food. "Also, to another cause, which you always find flourishing under such circumstances--drink. It is in a barracks just as in the courts and alleys of a large city--wherever you find people huddled together in foul air, ill smells, and general wretchedness--they drink. They cannot help it, it seems a natural necessity." "There, we have the Doctor on his hobby. Gee-up, Doctor!" cried Augustus. I wonder his friend stands his nonsense so good-humouredly.