What a fiendish thing is war! How the demons delight in it, and how soon men become demons who indulge in it unjustly. Look, there lies your friend Astoragus!'
I started at the name. On a bed in a remote corner lay a human figure. He was awake, and moaning piteonsly. I pitied him in my heart, and asked my guide if I might speak to him.
'Certainly,' he replied, 'but don't go too near him,'
I went to his bedside and found it necessary to muster up all my courage; the fellow had been so insignificant to look at, and yet had contrived to be so detestably venomous. I addressed him thus:
'Astoragus, I am sorry for you; these are the wages you earn by being a larrikin. Why does the power of inflicting pain on those who are not interfering with you give you pleasure? Would it not be more manly and noble in you, and in those whom you induce to follow your evil example, to try and improve your minds, and so become useful members of society? I come not here to triumph over you, or add to your punishment. The very best of men are liable to fall, but the path of redemption lies open to the very worst. Your treatment of me was undeserved and unnecessary; but I bear you no malice—farewell!'
He seemed entirely subdued, and did not answer a word. When I rejoined the Doctor, he nearly burst out laughing in my face. I thought he was rather cruel, but said nothing.
'You did not "poor fellow" him again, did you?' he asked, as he led the way onward.
I replied: 'Ah! my dear friend, we are all liable to error; I do not like over-severe punishments.'
'What do you say to this, then?' said he, as he opened a secret, door in the wall by which we were passing.
The terror of Bluebeard's wife, when she beheld the
