memory? As
our naturalist's game was nobler and destined for more important study,
so it was capable of lifelong suffering more subtle and intense. Perhaps
Fournier had not fully considered, in his eagerness to prove his
hypothesis, the dangers to the subjects of his experiment. Perhaps his
mind was so intent upon the physical aspect of the questions that he had
overlooked some of the intellectual and moral elements involved in the
problem, and did not realize the enormities that would result should he
succeed. On the other hand, perhaps he saw them, realized them fully,
and was the more deeply fascinated with the research because of its
leading into such gloomy and mysterious regions of speculation. Let us
do him justice. Science was his god, and this idolater was willing to
endure any labor and privation and to assume any responsibility in her
service. Would that more who worship a greater God were as devoted!

He was a physiologist, and was simply engaged in an experimental
investigation, yet in its progress he had already uncivilized a man
whose eyes were beginning dimly to see the truth, had poisoned his mind
with lies, and had hurled him into depths of Plutonian ignorance
inconceivably more profound than his original estate; and now he was
about to debase another fellow-creature of his own race, to tamper with
his manhood, to confuse his identity, to render him among his own
kindred and people perhaps tabooed, ostracised, despised--perhaps an
object of pity. If he should succeed? Surely he had not come thus near
success to suffer his splendid Yankee captain to be brained there before
his eyes. Like a hawk he had watched every incident of the fight, and
was on the alert to act the part of surgeon toward any who might be
either wounded in the battery or taken prisoner. He had even resolved,
in case of the capture of the place, to represent his peculiar position
to the United States officer in command, and to beg of him permission to
make his experiment upon a wounded rebel.

The gunner turned fiercely upon him, but dropped his arm and sheathed
his sabre at his question, and then walked back to his gun abashed, for
he was, after all, a brave and chivalrous man.

Fournier simply asked: "Do Confederate soldiers _murder_ prisoners of
war?" And added, "He is a wounded man--leave him to me."

Then he knelt down beside him and examined his wound, and though he
strove to be calm he trembled with excitement as he tore ope