ade and fashioned me,
In Cordova, in Spain.

"Along the line at Fontenoy
I've flashed in wild parade,
When on the English columns fell
The strength of Clare's Brigade;
I've stood for Bonnie Charles until
Culloden's fatal plain;--
Ferrara made and fashioned me,
In Cordova, in Spain.

"But now in exiled hands I rust
Beside the salt sea's marge,
And though I dream of trumpet call,
Of rally, and of charge,
Of screaming fife, and throbbing drum,
As troops defile in train,--
I wake to hear the wailing moan
Of the imprisoning Main--
Dead is all Glory!
Dead all Fame!
Will never sound that song again--
That great, world-wakening refrain?--
Ferrara made and fashioned me,
In Cordova, in Spain."

There was a spontaneous outburst of applause as I ended, for I had
seldom made a better effort, and my closing lines but echoed a
sentiment common to us all--that is, of all of us who were soldiers.
Such a creature as Prevost could never have a generous impulse stir
the weighing-machine which served him in lieu of a soul; and Sarennes
was spoiled for nobler aims by the debasing influence of la petite
guerre, dear to all Canadians. So M. Prevost saw fit to refrain
from all applause; and Sarennes, foolish boy, for boy he was, in
spite of his thirty years, was ill-bred enough to follow his example.

"M. Prevost, surely you are over-critical when you do not applaud,"
said M. de St. Julhien, banteringly. "Remember we are not in the
rue St. Honore, though I would trust this voice even there."

"You have more faith in that, then, than he has in his sword. He
puts it in Spanish and Scotch hands. Why not in French?" snapped
out the little centipede, virulently.

"Possibly there are some French hands in which he would not trust
it," retorted M. de Julhien, to our great delight.

"Do your words bear that construction?" asked the nettled Commissary,
turning on me.

"Possibly, too, M. de Maxwell may think it is not to be trusted in
some Canadian hands," broke in Sarennes, with a hectoring air.

"Now, gentlemen," I returned, "you are coming too fast with your
questions. As for you, M. de Sarennes, I once offered you some good
advice which you did not see fit to follow, and now, even at the
risk of having it similarly disregarded, I will proffer more; which
is, not to expose yourself to punishment for the impertinences of
others. As for