this way, I remember, among other things,
that he came from Wales, and that he was the
first of his family who had ever been afflicted
in this extraordinary manner. "Come," said
the doctor at last, "let us see you make an
effort to speak. Try to say, 'How d'ye do?' "
The man certainly seemed to respond to this
appeal, and nothing could be more energetic
than the violent chopping action of the jaws
with which he did so; but no word, nor,
indeed, any sound whatever, was uttered. After
this, we all stood staring rather helplessly,
and in a state of mystification at each other.
The soldiers sitting on the board with their legs
doubled under them, stared too.

The scene was brought to a close by the
doctor. "Well," he said, "you are very
comfortable here and usefully employed. You
know we couldn't possibly send you out and
throw you upon your own resources, in the
state in which you are at present, so you ought
to think yourself very lucky." This was said,
as the doctor told me afterwards, to show
the man that he had nothing to hope in the
way of getting his discharge. He appeared
well-pleased with what he heard, nodded and
smiled briskly, and jumped up on his board
again.

"He is so extraordinarily sharp and quick
of hearing," whispered the doctor, as we left
the building, "that I must ask you not to
speak about him till we are well out of
earshot." I had little to say, however. My
impression was simply of a good-looking young
fellow of a light and active build, with
exceedingly bright eyes, having perhaps
something a little mad about them. There was
nothing stupid or brutal in his appearance; on
the contrary, he looked brisk and lively, as well
as exceedingly cunning. He certainly gave one
the idea of a man possessed of much dogged
determination, and quite capable of carrying out
any scheme of an underhand nature which he
might set before himself as a thing to be
accomplished.

What Private John Strong did set before
himself as a thing to be accomplished, he
did in this case most distinctly and
completely succeed in doing. He carried his point.
He was too much for the authorities. His
powers were concentrated; theirs were
diffused. He had but one thing to think of;
they had many. For such work as mounting
guard with its necessary interchange of
sign and countersign, as well as for all other
forms of military duty of which speech is
an essential part, this man was unfitted, as
well as for the transmission of verbal messages,
or spoken instructions; and so it came about
at last that on a certain day Private John
Strong was brought before the medical board,
and after passing through another examination,
and being subjected to a variety of final
tests, was declared to be unfit for service, and
was, then and there, formally discharged.

Soon afterwards, I found myself once more
in the neighbourhood of the great garrison in
which this curious drama had been enacted.
Now that the curtain had fallen, I felt a strong
desire to hear something of the principal
performer, and to learn what had become of him
after his retirement from the stage. In
accordance with this wish I lost no time in
making my way to the barracks at which my
speechless friend's regiment was quartered,
bent on picking up all the information I could.
Fortune was propitious to me. Almost
immediately on my entering the barrack-square I
had the good luck to run against a certain
sergeant-major belonging to the regiment, who
had had the subject of my inquiries especially
under his charge. From this officer I learnt
that Dr. Curzon had been removed to another
station, and that so the case had passed from
under his superintendence; and that the
doctor who succeeded to the care of the man
had, after very careful investigation of the
whole affair, become sufficiently convinced of
the genuineness of the case to bring it
before the medical board with the result
mentioned. "A few days afterwards," said the
sergeant, concluding his account: "I met the
man walking along the street, in company
with a young woman. 'Good-evening, Strong,'
I said on speculation, with a sort of notion
in my head that he'd answer me. And so he
did. 'Good-evening, sergeant,' he says, speaking
as glib as possible and with as knowing a
grin as ever you saw." The sergeant concluded
his narrative by informing me that the young
man had got married, and was at work at a
sewing-machine factory in the town.

It was a difficult place to find, this factory;
but I managed after going to all sorts of wrong
places, and making inquiry everywhere but
where I ought, for "a young man named
Strong," to unearth my gentleman in a large
bare-looking building which quivered all over
with the vibration of the machinery in motion
in its upper story.

He was a little thinner and more haggard
looking, perhaps, than when I had last seen
him, and was of course dressed in the costume
of a civilian instead of the uniform of the
regiment to which he had once belonged, but
in all other respects he was unchanged. He
presented the same sharp watchful appearance
which I had remarked before, and had the same
keen restless glance darting suspiciously hither
and thither. He did not speak on first coming
forward to meet me, but merely made a movement
with his head. I think it probable that
for a single instant he was confused, seeing
a stranger before him, whether he was to be
dumb or not. Of course he soon remembered
that all that, was a thing of the past. In answer
to my remark that I was curious to know how
he had recovered the use of speech, of which
when I had seen him, nearly a couple of years
ago, he had been deprived, he proceeded to
tell a story which he seemed to have on the tip
of his tongue ready for any such emergency.

He stated that shortly after his discharge, he
accidentally met a young man with whom he
was acquainted, and whose function it was to
compound the medicines dispensed at a certain