was one of Ours--an intimate friend
of mine, and of everybody else who had the pleasure of his
acquaintance. Jack was in every respect a remarkable man--physically,
intellectually, and morally. Present company excepted, he was certainly
by all odds the finest-looking fellow in a regiment notoriously filled
with handsome men; and to this rare advantage he added all the
accomplishments of life, and the most genial nature in the world. It
was difficult to say whether he was a greater favorite with men or with
women. He was noisy, rattling, reckless, good-hearted, generous,
mirthful, witty, jovial, daring, open-handed, irrepressible,
enthusiastic, and confoundedly clever. He was good at every thing, from
tracking a moose or caribou, on through all the gamut of rinking,
skating, ice-boating, and tobogganing, up to the lightest
accomplishments of the drawing-room. He was one of those lucky dogs who
are able to break horses or hearts with equal buoyancy of soul. And it
was this twofold capacity which made him equally dear to either sex.

A lucky dog? Yea, verily, that is what he was. He was welcomed at every
mess, and he had the _entree_ of every house in Quebec. He could drink
harder than any man in the regiment, and dance down a whole regiment of
drawing-room knights. He could sing better than any amateur I ever
heard; and was the best judge of a meerschaum-pipe I ever saw. Lucky?
Yes, he was--and especially so, and more than all else--on account of
the joyousness of his soul. There was a contagious and a godlike
hilarity in his broad, open brow, his frank, laughing eyes, and his
mobile lips. He seemed to carry about with him a bracing moral
atmosphere. The sight of him had the same effect on the dull man of
ordinary life that the Himalayan air has on an Indian invalid; and yet
Jack was head-over-heels in debt. Not a tradesman would trust him.
Shoals of little bills were sent him every day. Duns without number
plagued him from morning to night. The Quebec attorneys were sharpening
their bills, and preparing, like birds of prey, to swoop down upon him.
In fact, taking it altogether, Jack had full before him the sure and
certain prospect of some dismal explosion.

On this occasion, Jack--for the first time in our acquaintance--seemed
to have not a vestige of his ordinary flow of spirits. He entered
without a word, took up a pipe, crammed some tobacco into the bowl,
flung himself into an easy-chair, and began--with fixed eyes