"But, Demetrius!" Napoleon protested, "that is not the way to make soldiers. Do you think those fellows will be good officers, if they never know what it is to deny themselves, or to do the work that is their duty, but which they leave for servants to do?" For Napoleon, you see, had many of the saving ways of his practical mother, and rebelled at the unconcern of these luxury-loving and careless boys, who were supposed to be learning the discipline of soldiers in their Paris school. Demetrius only snapped his fingers, as Alexander shrugged his shoulders, in contempt of what they considered Napoleon's countrified way. But all this show of pomp and luxury really troubled this boy, who had long before learned the value of money and the need of self-denial. Indeed, it worried him so much that one day he sat down and wrote a letter which he intended to send as a protest to the minister of war, actually lecturing that high and mighty officer, and "giving him points" on the proper way to educate boys in the French military schools. Fortunately for him, he sent the letter first to his old instructor, the principal of the Brienne school. And the instructor--even though he, perhaps, agreed with this boy-critic--saw how foolish and hurtful for Napoleon's interest it would be to send such a surprising letter; and he promptly suppressed it. But the letter still exists; and a curious epistle it is for a fifteen-year-old boy to write. Here is a part of it: "The king's scholars," so Napoleon wrote to the minister, "could only learn in this school, in place of qualities of the heart, feelings of vanity and self-satisfaction to such an extent, that, on returning to their own homes, they would be far from sharing gladly in the simple comfort of their families, and would perhaps blush for their fathers and mothers, and despise their modest country surroundings. Instead of maintaining a large staff of servants for these pupils, and giving them every day meals of several courses, and keeping up an expensive stable full of horses and grooms, would it not be better, Mr. Minister--of course without interrupting their studies--to compel them to look after their own wants themselves? That is to say, without compelling them to really do their own cooking, would it not be wise to have them eat soldiers' bread or something no better, to accustom them to beat and brush their own clothes, to clean their own boots and shoes, and do other things equally useful and self-helpful? If they were thus accustomed to a sober life, and to be particular about their appearance, they would become healthier and stronger; they could support with courage the hardships of war, and inspire with respect and blind devotion the soldiers who would have to serve under their orders." How do you think the grand minister of war would have felt to get such a lecturing on discipline from a boy at school? and what do you imagine the boys would have done had they heard that one of their schoolmates