THE object of the invasion of the library by the party in thegarden appeared to be twofold.

Sir Patrick had entered the room to restore the newspaper to theplace from which he had taken it. The guests, to the number offive, had followed him, to appeal in a body to Geoffrey Delamayn.Between these two apparently dissimilar motives there was aconnection, not visible on the surface, which was now to assertitself.

Of the five guests, two were middle-aged gentlemen belonging tothat large, but indistinct, division of the human family whom thehand of Nature has painted in unobtrusive neutral tint. They hadabsorbed the ideas of their time with such receptive capacity asthey possessed; and they occupied much the same place in societywhich the chorus in an opera occupies on the stage. They echoedthe prevalent sentiment of the moment; and they gave thesolo-talker time to fetch his breath.

The three remaining guests were on the right side of thirty. Allprofoundly versed in horse-racing, in athletic sports, in pipes,beer, billiards, and betting. All profoundly ignorant of everything else under the sun. All gentlemen by birth, and all markedas such by the stamp of "a University education." They may bepersonally described as faint reflections of Geoffrey; and theymay be numerically distinguished (in the absence of all otherdistinction) as One, Two, and Three.

Sir Patrick laid the newspaper on the table and placed himself inone of the comfortable arm-chairs. He was instantly assailed, inhis domestic capacity, by his irrepressible sister-in-law. LadyLundie dispatched Blanche to him with the list of her guests atthe dinner. "For your uncle's approval, my dear, as head of thefamily."

While Sir Patrick was looking over the list, and while Arnold wasmaking his way to Blanche, at the back of her uncle's chair, One,Two, and Three--with the Chorus in attendance on them--descendedin a body on Geoffrey, at the other end of the room, and appealedin rapid succession to his superior authority, as follows:

"I say, Delamayn. We want You. Here is Sir Patrick running aregular Muck at us. Calls us aboriginal Britons. Tells us weain't educated. Doubts if we could read, write, and cipher, if hetried us. Swears he's sick of fellows showing their arms andlegs, and seeing which fellow's hardest, and who's got threebelts of muscle across his wind, and who hasn't, and the like ofthat. Says a most infernal thing of a chap. Says--because a chaplikes a healthy out-of-door life, and trains for rowing andrunning, and the rest of it, and don't see his way to stewingover his books--_therefore_ he's safe to commit all the crimes inthe calendar, murder included. Saw your name down in thenewspaper for the Foot-Race; and said, when we asked him if he'dtaken the odds, he'd lay any odds we liked against you in theother Race at the University--meaning, old boy, your Degree.Nasty, that about the Degree--in the opinion of Number One. Badtaste in Sir Patrick to rake up what we never mention amongourselves--in the opinion of Number Two. Un-English to sneer at aman in that way behind his back--in the opinion of Number Three.Bring him to book, Delamayn. Your name's in the papers; he can'tride roughshod over You."

The two choral gentlemen agreed (in the minor key) with thegeneral opinion. "Sir Patrick's views are certainly extreme,Smith?" "I think, Jones, it's desirable to hear Mr. Delamayn onthe other side."

Geoffrey looked from one to the other of his admirers with anexpression on his face which was quite new to them, and withsomething in his manner which puzzled them all.

"You can't argue with Sir Patrick yourselves," he said, "and youwant me to do it?"

One, Two, Three, and the Chorus all answered, "Yes."

"I won't do it."

One, Two, Three, and the Chorus all asked, "Why?"

"Because," answered Geoffrey, "you're all wrong. And SirPatrick's right."

Not astonishment only, but downright stupefaction, struck thedeputation from the garden speechless.

Without saying a word more to any of the persons standing nearhim, Geoffrey walked straight up to Sir Patrick's arm-chair, andpersonally addressed him. The satellites followed, and listened(as well they might) in wonder.

"You will lay any odds, Sir," said Geoffrey "against me taking myDegree? You're quite right. I sha'n't take my Degree. You doubtwhether I, or any of those fellows behind me, could read, write,and cipher correctly if you tried us. You're right again--wecouldn't. You say you don't know why men like Me, and men likeThem, may not begin with rowing and running and the like of that,and end in committing all the crimes in the calendar: murderincluded. Well! you may be right again there. Who's to know whatmay happen to him? or what he may not end in doing before hedies? It may be Another, or it may be Me. How do I know? and howdo you?" He suddenly turned on the deputation, standingthunder-struck behind him. "If you want to know what I think,there it is for you, in plain words."

There was something, not only in the shamelessness of thedeclaration itself, but in the fierce pleasure that the speakerseemed to feel in making it, which struck the circle oflisteners, Sir Patrick included, with a momentary chill.

In the midst of the silence a sixth guest appeared on the lawn,and stepped into the library--a silent, resolute, unassuming,elderly man who had arrived the day before on a visit toWindygates, and who was well known, in and out of London, as oneof the first consulting surgeons of his time.

"A discussion going on?" he asked. "Am I in the way?"

"There's no discussion--we are all agreed," cried Geoffrey,answering boisterously for the rest. "The more the merrier, Sir!"

After a glance at Geoffrey, the surgeon suddenly checked himselfon the point of advancing to the inner part of the room, andremained standing at the window.

"I beg your pardon," said Sir Patrick, addressing himself toGeoffrey, with a grave dignity which was quite new in Arnold'sexperience of him. "We are not all agreed. I decline, Mr.Delamayn, to allow you to connect me with such an expression offeeling on your part as we have just heard. The language you haveused leaves me no alternative but to meet your statement of whatyou suppose me to have said by my statement of what I really didsay. It is not my fault if the discussion in the garden isrevived before another audience in this room--it is yours,"

He looked as he spoke to Arnold and Blanche, and from them to thesurgeon standing at the window.

The surgeon had found an occupation for himself which completelyisolated him among the rest of the guests. Keeping his own facein shadow, he was studying Geoffrey's face, in the full flood oflight that fell on it, with a steady attention which must havebeen generally remarked, if all eyes had not been turned towardSir Patrick at the time.

It was not an easy face to investigate at that moment.

While Sir Patrick had been speaking Geoffrey had seated himselfnear the window, doggedly impenetrable to the reproof of which hewas the object. In his impatience to consult the one authoritycompetent to decide the question of Arnold's position towardAnne, he had sided with Sir Patrick, as a means of riddinghimself of the unwelcome presence of his friends--and he haddefeated his own purpose, thanks to his own brutish incapabilityof bridling himself in the pursuit of it. Whether he was nowdiscouraged under these circumstances, or whether he was simplyresigned to bide his time till his time came, it was impossible,judging by outward appearances, to say. With a heavy dropping atthe corners of his mouth, with a stolid indifference staring dullin his eyes, there he sat, a man forearmed, in his own obstinateneutrality, against all temptation to engage in the conflict ofopinions that was to come.

Sir Patrick took up the newspaper which he had brought in fromthe garden, and looked once more to see if the surgeon wasattending to him.

No! The surgeon's attention was absorbed in his own subject.There he was in the same position, with his mind still hard atwork on something in Geoffrey which at once interested andpuzzled it! "That man," he was thinking to himself, "has comehere this morning after traveling from London all night. Does anyordinary fatigue explain what I see in his face? No!"

"Our little discussion in the garden," resumed Sir Patrick,answering Blanche's inquiring look as she bent over him, "began,my dear, in a paragraph here announcing Mr. Delamayn'sforthcoming appearance in a foot-race in the neighborhood ofLondon. I hold very unpopular opinions as to the athleticdisplays which are so much in vogue in England just now. And itis possible that I may have expressed those opinions a li ttletoo strongly, in the heat of discussion, with gentlemen who areopposed to me--I don't doubt, conscientiously opposed--on thisquestion."

A low groan of protest rose from One, Two, and Three, in returnfor the little compliment which Sir Patrick had paid to them."How about rowing and running ending in the Old Bailey and thegallows? You said that, Sir--you know you did!"

The two choral gentlemen looked at each other, and agreed withthe prevalent sentiment. "It came to that, I think, Smith." "Yes,Jones, it certainly came to that."

The only two men who still cared nothing about it were Geoffreyand the surgeon. There sat the first, stolidlyneutral--indifferent alike to the attack and the defense. Therestood the second, pursuing his investigation--with the growinginterest in it of a man who was beginning to see his way to theend.

"Hear my defense, gentlemen," continued Sir Patrick, ascourteously as ever. "You belong, remember, to a nation whichespecially claims to practice the rules of fair play. I must begto remind you of what I said in the garden. I started with aconcession. I admitted--as every person of the smallest sensemust admit--that a man will, in the great majority of cases, beall the fitter for mental exercise if he wisely combines physicalexercise along with it. The whole question between the two is aquestion of proportion and degree, and my complaint of thepresent time is that the present time doesn't see it. Popularopinion in England seems to me to be, not only getting toconsider the cultivation of the muscles as of equal importancewith the cultivation of the mind, but to be actuallyextending--in practice, if not in theory--to the absurd anddangerous length of putting bodily training in the first place ofimportance, and mental training in the second. To take a case inpoint: I can discover no enthusiasm in the nation any thing likeso genuine and any thing like so general as the enthusiasmexcited by your University boat-race. Again: I see this AthleticEducation of yours made a matter of public celebration in schoolsand colleges; and I ask any unprejudiced witness to tell me whichexcites most popular enthusiasm, and which gets the mostprominent place in the public journals--the exhibition, indoors(on Prize-day), of what the boys can do with their minds? or theexhibition, out of doors (on Sports-day), of what the boys can dowith their bodies? You know perfectly well which performanceexcites the loudest cheers, which occupies the prominent place inthe newspapers, and which, as a necessary consequence, confersthe highest social honors on the hero of the day."

Another murmur from One, Two, and Three. "We have nothing to sayto that, Sir; have it all your own way, so far."

Another ratification of agreement with the prevalent opinionbetween Smith and Jones.

"Very good," pursued Sir Patrick. "We are all of one mind as towhich way the public feeling sets. If it is a feeling to berespected and encouraged, show me the national advantage whichhas resulted from it. Where is the influence of this modernoutburst of manly enthusiasm on the serious concerns of life? andhow has it improved the character of the people at large? Are weany of us individually readier than we ever were to sacrifice ourown little private interests to the public good? Are we dealingwith the serious social questions of our time in a conspicuouslydetermined, downright, and definite way? Are we becoming avisibly and indisputably purer people in our code of commercialmorals? Is there a healthier and higher tone in those publicamusements which faithfully reflect in all countries the publictaste? Produce me affirmative answers to these questions, whichrest on solid proof, and I'll accept the present mania forathletic sports as something better than an outbreak of ourinsular boastfulness and our insular barbarity in a new form."

"Question! question!" in a general cry, from One, Two, and Three.

"Question! question!" in meek reverberation, from Smith andJones.

"That is the question," rejoined Sir Patrick. "You admit theexistence of the public feeling and I ask, what good does it do?"

"What harm does it do?" from One, Two, and Three.

"Hear! hear!" from Smith and Jones.

"That's a fair challenge," replied Sir Patrick. "I am bound tomeet you on that new ground. I won't point, gentlemen, by way ofanswer, to the coarseness which I can see growing on our nationalmanners, or to the deterioration which appears to me to bespreading more and more widely in our national tastes. You maytell me with perfect truth that I am too old a man to be a fairjudge of manners and tastes which have got beyond my standards.We will try the issue, as it now stands between us, on itsabstract merits only. I assert that a state of public feelingwhich does practically place physical training, in itsestimation, above moral and mental training, is a positively badand dangerous state of feeling in this, that it encourages theinbred reluctance in humanity to submit to the demands whichmoral and mental cultivation must inevitably make on it. Which amI, as a boy, naturally most ready to do--to try how high I canjump? or to try how much I can learn? Which training comeseasiest to me as a young man? The training which teaches me tohandle an oar? or the training which teaches me to return goodfor evil, and to love my neighbor as myself? Of those twoexperiments, of those two trainings, which ought society inEngland to meet with the warmest encouragement? And which doessociety in England practically encourage, as a matter of fact?"

"What did you say yourself just now?" from One, Two, and Three.

"Remarkably well put!" from Smith and Jones.

"I said," admitted Sir Patrick, "that a man will go all thebetter to his books for his healthy physical exercise. And I saythat again--provided the physical exercise be restrained withinfit limits. But when public feeling enters into the question, anddirectly exalts the bodily exercises above the books--then I saypublic feeling is in a dangerous extreme. The bodily exercises,in that case, will be uppermost in the youth's thoughts, willhave the strongest hold on his interest, will take the lion'sshare of his time, and will, by those means--barring the fewpurely exceptional instances--slowly and surely end in leavinghim, to all good moral and mental purpose, certainly anuncultivated, and, possibly, a dangerous man."

A cry from the camp of the adversaries: "He's got to it at last!A man who leads an out-of-door life, and uses the strength thatGod has given to him, is a dangerous man. Did any body ever hearthe like of that?"

Cry reverberated, with variations, by the two human echoes: "No!Nobody ever heard the like of that!"

"Clear your minds of cant, gentlemen," answered Sir Patrick. "Theagricultural laborer leads an out-of-door life, and uses thestrength that God has given to him. The sailor in the merchantservice does the name. Both are an uncultivated, a shamefullyuncultivated, class--and see the result! Look at the Map ofCrime, and you will find the most hideous offenses in thecalendar, committed--not in the towns, where the average mandoesn't lead an out-of-door life, doesn't as a rule, use hisstrength, but is, as a rule, comparatively cultivated--not in thetowns, but in the agricultural districts. As for the Englishsailor--except when the Royal Navy catches and cultivateshim--ask Mr. Brinkworth, who has served in the merchant navy,what sort of specimen of the moral influence of out-of-door lifeand muscular cultivation _he_ is."

"In nine cases out of ten," said Arnold, "he is as idle andvicious as ruffian as walks the earth."

Another cry from the Opposition: "Are _we_ agricultural laborers?Are _we_ sailors in the merchant service?"

A smart reverberation from the human echoes: "Smith! am I alaborer?" "Jones! am I a sailor?"

"Pray let us not be personal, gentlemen," said Sir Patrick. "I amspeaking generally, and I can only meet extreme objections bypushing my argument to extreme limits. The laborer and the sailorhave served my purpose. If the laborer andthe sailor offend you, by all means let them walk off the stage!I hold to the position which I advanced just now. A man may bewell born, well off, well dressed, well fed--but if he is anuncultivated man, he is (in spite of all those advantages) a manwith special capacities for evil in him, on that very account.Don't mistake me! I am far from saving that the present rage forexclusively muscular accomplishments must lead inevitablydownward to the lowest deep of depravity. Fortunately forsociety, all special depravity is more or less certainly theresult, in the first instance, of special temptation. Theordinary mass of us, thank God, pass through life without beingexposed to other than ordinary temptations. Thousands of theyoung gentlemen, devoted to the favorite pursuits of the presenttime, will get through existence with no worse consequences tothemselves than a coarse tone of mind and manners, and alamentable incapability of feeling any of those higher andgentler influences which sweeten and purify the lives of morecultivated men. But take the other case (which may occur to anybody), the case of a special temptation trying a modern young manof your prosperous class and of mine. And let me beg Mr. Delamaynto honor with his attention what I have now to say, because itrefers to the opinion which I did really express--asdistinguished from the opinion which he affects to agree with,and which I never advanced."

Geoffrey's indifference showed no signs of giving way. "Go on!"he said--and still sat looking straight before him, with heavyeyes, which noticed nothing, and expressed nothing.

"Take the example which we have now in view," pursued SirPatrick--"the example of an average young gentleman of our time,blest with every advantage that physical cultivation can bestowon him. Let this man be tried by a temptation which insidiouslycalls into action, in his own interests, the savage instinctslatent in humanity--the instincts of self-seeking and crueltywhich are at the bottom of all crime. Let this man be placedtoward some other person, guiltless of injuring him, in aposition which demands one of two sacrifices: the sacrifice ofthe other person, or the sacrifice of his own interests and hisown desires. His neighbor's happiness, or his neighbor's life,stands, let us say, between him and the attainment of somethingthat he wants. He can wreck the happiness, or strike down thelife, without, to his knowledge, any fear of suffering for ithimself. What is to prevent him, being the man he is, from goingstraight to his end, on those conditions? Will the skill inrowing, the swiftness in running, the admirable capacity andendurance in other physical exercises, which he has attained, bya strenuous cultivation in this kind that has excluded anysimilarly strenuous cultivation in other kinds--will thesephysical attainments help him to win a purely moral victory overhis own selfishness and his own cruelty? They won't even help himto see that it _is_ selfishness, and that it _is_ cruelty. Theessential principle of his rowing and racing (a harmlessprinciple enough, if you can be sure of applying it to rowing andracing only) has taught him to take every advantage of anotherman that his superior strength and superior cunning can suggest.There has been nothing in his training to soften the barbaroushardness in his heart, and to enlighten the barbarous darkness inhis mind. Temptation finds this man defenseless, when temptationpasses his way. I don't care who he is, or how high he standsaccidentally in the social scale--he is, to all moral intents andpurposes, an Animal, and nothing more. If my happiness stands inhis way--and if he can do it with impunity to himself--he willtrample down my happiness. If my life happens to be the nextobstacle he encounters--and if he can do it with impunity tohimself--he will trample down my life. Not, Mr. Delamayn, in thecharacter of a victim to irresistible fatality, or to blindchance; but in the character of a man who has sown the seed, andreaps the harvest. That, Sir, is the case which I put as anextreme case only, when this discussion began. As an extreme caseonly--but as a perfectly possible case, at the same time--Irestate it now."

Before the advocates of the other side of the question could opentheir lips to reply, Geoffrey suddenly flung off hisindifference, and started to his feet.

"Stop!" he cried, threatening the others, in his fierceimpatience to answer for himself, with his clenched fist.

There was a general silence.

Geoffrey turned and looked at Sir Patrick, as if Sir Patrick hadpersonally insulted him.

"Who is this anonymous man, who finds his way to his own ends,and pities nobody and sticks at nothing?" he asked. "Give him aname!"

"I am quoting an example," said Sir Patrick. "I am not attackinga man."

"What right have you," cried Geoffrey--utterly forgetful, in thestrange exasperation that had seized on him, of the interest thathe had in controlling himself before Sir Patrick--"what righthave you to pick out an example of a rowing man who is aninfernal scoundrel--when it's quite as likely that a rowing manmay be a good fellow: ay! and a better fellow, if you come tothat, than ever stood in your shoes!"

"If the one case is quite as likely to occur as the other (whichI readily admit)," answered Sir Patrick, "I have surely a rightto choose which case I please for illustration. (Wait, Mr.Delamayn! These are the last words I have to say and I mean tosay them.) I have taken the example--not of a specially depravedman, as you erroneously suppose--but of an average man, with hisaverage share of the mean, cruel, and dangerous qualities, whichare part and parcel of unreformed human nature--as your religiontells you, and as you may see for yourself, if you choose to lookat your untaught fellow-creatures any where. I suppose that manto be tried by a temptation to wickedness, out of the common; andI show, to the best of my ability, how completely the moral andmental neglect of himself, which the present material tone ofpublic feeling in England has tacitly encouraged, leaves him atthe mercy of all the worst instincts in his nature; and howsurely, under those conditions, he _must_ go down (gentleman ashe is) step by step--as the lowest vagabond in the streets goesdown under _his_ special temptation--from the beginning inignorance to the end in crime. If you deny my right to take suchan example as that, in illustration of the views I advocate, youmust either deny that a special temptation to wickedness canassail a man in the position of a gentleman, or you must assertthat gentlemen who are naturally superior to all temptation arethe only gentlemen who devote themselves to athletic pursuits.There is my defense. In stating my case, I have spoken out of myown sincere respect for the interests of virtue and of learning;out of my own sincere admiration for those young men among us whoare resisting the contagion of barbarism about them. In _their_future is the future hope of England. I have done."

Angrily ready with a violent personal reply, Geoffrey foundhimself checked, in his turn by another person with something tosay, and with a resolution to say it at that particular moment.

For some little time past the surgeon had discontinued his steadyinvestigation of Geoffrey's face, and had given all his attentionto the discussion, with the air of a man whose self-imposed taskhad come to an end. As the last sentence fell from the lastspeaker's lips, he interposed so quickly and so skillfullybetween Geoffrey and Sir Patrick, that Geoffrey himself was takenby surprise,

"There is something still wanting to make Sir Patrick's statementof the case complete," he said. "I think I can supply it, fromthe result of my own professional experience. Before I say what Ihave to say, Mr. Delamayn will perhaps excuse me, if I venture ongiving him a caution to control himself."

"Are _you_ going to make a dead set at me, too?" inquiredGeoffrey.

"I am recommending you to keep your temper--nothing more. Thereare plenty of men who can fly into a passion without doingthemselves any particular harm. You are not one of them."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think the state of your health, Mr. Delamayn, is quiteso satisfactory as you may be disposed to consider it yourself."

Geoffrey turned to his admirers and adherents with a roar ofderisive laughter. The admirers and adherents all echoed himtogether. Arnold and Blanche smiled at each other. Even SirPatrick looked as if he could hardly credit the evidence of hisown ears. There stood the modern Hercules, self-vindicated as aHercules, before all eyes that looked at him. And there,opposite, stood a man whom he could have killed with one blow ofhis fist, telling him, in serious earnest, that he was not inperfect health!

"You are a rare fellow!" said Geoffrey, half in jest and half inanger. "What's the matter with me?"

"I have undertaken to give you, what I believe to be, a necessarycaution," answered the surgeon. "I have _not_ undertaken to tellyou what I think is the matter with you. That may be a questionfor consideration some little time hence. In the meanwhile, Ishould like to put my impression about you to the test. Have youany objection to answer a question on a matter of no particularimportance relating to yourself?"

"Let's hear the question first."

"I have noticed something in your behavior while Sir Patrick wasspeaking. You are as much interested in opposing his views as anyof those gentlemen about you. I don't understand your sitting insilence, and leaving it entirely to the others to put the case onyour side--until Sir Patrick said something which happened toirritate you. Had you, all the time before that, no answer readyin your own mind?"

"I had as good answers in my mind as any that have been made hereto-day."

"And yet you didn't give them?"

"No; I didn't give them."

"Perhaps you felt--though you knew your objections to be goodones--that it was hardly worth while to take the trouble ofputting them into words? In short, you let your friends answerfor you, rather than make the effort of answering for yourself?"

Geoffrey looked at his medical adviser with a sudden curiosityand a sudden distrust.

"I say," he asked, "how do you come to know what's going on in mymind--without my telling you of it?"

"It is my business to find out what is going on in people'sbodies--and to do that it is sometimes necessary for me to findout (if I can) what is going on in their minds. If I have rightlyinterpreted what was going on in _your_ mind, there is no needfor me to press my question. You have answered it already."

He turned to Sir Patrick next

"There is a side to this subject," he said, "which you have nottouched on yet. There is a Physical objection to the present ragefor muscular exercises of all sorts, which is quite as strong, inits way, as the Moral objection. You have stated the consequencesas they _ may_ affect the mind. I can state the consequences asthey _do_ affect the body."

"From your own experience?"

"From my own experience. I can tell you, as a medical man, that aproportion, and not by any means a small one, of the young menwho are now putting themselves to violent athletic tests of theirstrength and endurance, are taking that course to the serious andpermanent injury of their own health. The public who attendrowing-matches, foot-races, and other exhibitions of that sort,see nothing but the successful results of muscular training.Fathers and mothers at home see the failures. There arehouseholds in England--miserable households, to be counted, SirPatrick, by more than ones and twos--in which there are young menwho have to thank the strain laid on their constitutions by thepopular physical displays of the present time, for being brokenmen, and 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 timeto subside; the stolid indifference had got possession of himagain. He had resumed his chair--he sat, with outstretched legs,staring stupidly at the pattern on the carpet. "What does itmatter to Me?" was the sentiment expressed all over him, fromhead to foot.

The surgeon went on.

"I can see no remedy for this sad state of things," he said, "aslong as the public feeling remains what the public feeling isnow. A fine healthy-looking young man, with a superb musculardevelopment, longs (naturally enough) to distinguish himself likeothers. The training-authorities at his college, or elsewhere,take him in hand (naturally enough again) on the strength ofoutward appearances. And whether they have been right or wrong inchoosing him is more than they can say, until the experiment hasbeen tried, and the mischief has been, in many cases,irretrievably done. How many of them are aware of the importantphysiological truth, that the muscular power of a man is no fairguarantee of his vital power? How many of them know that we allhave (as a great French writer puts it) two lives in us--thesurface life of the muscles, and the inner life of the heart,lungs, and brain? Even if they did know this--even with medicalmen to help them--it would be in the last degree doubtful, inmost cases, whether any previous examination would result in anyreliable discovery of the vital fitness of the man to undergo thestress of muscular exertion laid on him. Apply to any of mybrethren; and they will tell you, as the result of their ownprofessional observation, that I am, in no sense, overstatingthis serious evil, or exaggerating the deplorable and dangerousconsequences to which it leads. I have a patient at this moment,who is a young man of twenty, and who possesses one of the finestmuscular developments I ever saw in my life. If that young manhad consulted me, before he followed the example of the otheryoung men about him, I can not honestly say that I could haveforeseen the results. As things are, after going through acertain amount of muscular training, after performing a certainnumber of muscular feats, he suddenly fainted one day, to theastonishment of his family and friends. I was called in and Ihave watched the case since. He will probably live, but he willnever recover. I am obliged to take precautions with this youthof twenty which I should take with an old man of eighty. He isbig enough and muscular enough to sit to a painter as a model forSamson--and only last week I saw him swoon away like a younggirl, in his mother's arms."

"Name!" cried Geoffrey's admirers, still fighting the battle ontheir side, in the absence of any encouragement from Geoffreyhimself.

"I am not in the habit of mentioning my patients' names," repliedthe surgeon. "But if you insist on my producing an example of aman broken by athletic exercises, I can do it."

"Do it! Who is he?"

"You all know him perfectly well."

"Is he in the doctor's hands?"

"Not yet."

"Where is he?"

"There!"

In a pause of breathless silence--with the eyes of every personin the room eagerly fastened on him--the surgeon lifted his handand pointed to Geoffrey Delamayn.