As I have pointed out in another of these sketches, the last decade but one of the eighteenth century was one of disaster and degradation for this country both at home and abroad. The national strength was sapped by corruption, and the national spirit was daunted by defeat. The history of the next thirty or forty years distinctly shows that we had but one Nelson at sea, and but one Wellington on land. If they had been born a quarter of a century later, or even if they had not both come into the world about the same time as their mighty antagonist, the map of Europe would certainly be very different to what it is to-day, and it is also fairly safe to say that the map of the world would not now show nearly as much red as it does. Arthur Wellesley, like certain others of our Empire-Makers who will be remembered, was a delicate, weakly boy and also, curiously enough, a dunce at school. As far as we know he was first sent to a school at Chelsea, whence in due course he went to Eton. Now there came a time when Eton was very proud indeed of being his Alma-Mater; but when she came to look back to see if she could remember anything about him she found that his career was absolutely undistinguished. There was only one incident in it all that any one remembered, and that was a fight that he had had with one Bob or “Bobus” Smith, of whom also nothing is known save the fact that he had a brother who was afterwards known to the world as Sydney Smith--not the defender of Acre, but the clerical humourist who divided the human race into three sexes: Men, women, and curates. It would seem that he was all along intended for the army, for when his undistinguished career at Eton had closed he went to a French military school at Angers, somewhere about the same time that a certain young cadet of Artillery was beginning to learn his business in Toulon. Here, again, we get very dim glimpses of the future conqueror, Empire-Maker, and preserver. One of them, however, is fairly distinct. He had a little terrier called Vick to which he was a great deal more attentive than he was to his studies and which repaid his attention by constant and unswerving devotion. When he left Angers is not known to a year or so, but in 1787 we come across something definite, for in this year Arthur Wesley, as he still spelt himself, was gazetted as ensign to His Majesty’s 73rd Regiment of Foot.