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Of
all
professions
,
the
army
seemed
to
lend
itself
the
most
thoroughly
to
the
scheme
.
You
enlisted
,
you
followed
the
drum
,
you
marched
,
fought
,
and
ported
arms
,
under
strange
skies
,
through
unrecorded
years
.
At
last
,
at
long
last
,
your
opportunity
would
come
,
when
the
horrors
of
war
were
flickering
through
the
quiet
country
-
side
where
you
were
cradled
and
bred
,
but
where
the
memory
of
you
had
long
been
dim
.
Folk
would
run
together
,
clamorous
,
palsied
with
fear
;
and
among
the
terror
-
stricken
groups
would
figure
certain
aunts
.
“
What
hope
is
left
us
?
”
they
would
ask
themselves
,
“
save
in
the
clemency
of
the
General
,
the
mysterious
,
invincible
General
,
of
whom
men
tell
such
romantic
tales
?
”
And
the
army
would
march
in
,
and
the
guns
would
rattle
and
leap
along
the
village
street
,
and
,
last
of
all
,
you
—
you
,
the
General
,
the
fabled
hero
—
you
would
enter
,
on
your
coal
-
black
charger
,
your
pale
set
face
seamed
by
an
interesting
sabre
-
cut
.
And
then
—
but
every
boy
has
rehearsed
this
familiar
piece
a
score
of
times
.
You
are
magnanimous
,
in
fine
—
that
goes
without
saying
;
you
have
a
coal
-
black
horse
,
and
a
sabre
-
cut
,
and
you
can
afford
to
be
very
magnanimous
.
But
all
the
same
you
give
them
a
good
talking
-
to
.
This
pleasant
conceit
simply
ravished
my
soul
for
some
twenty
minutes
,
and
then
the
old
sense
of
injury
began
to
well
up
afresh
,
and
to
call
for
new
plasters
and
soothing
syrups
.
This
time
I
took
refuge
in
happy
thoughts
of
the
sea
.
The
sea
was
my
real
sphere
,
after
all
.
On
the
sea
,
in
especial
,
you
could
combine
distinction
with
lawlessness
,
whereas
the
army
seemed
to
be
always
weighted
by
a
certain
plodding
submission
to
discipline
.
To
be
sure
,
by
all
accounts
,
the
life
was
at
first
a
rough
one
.
But
just
then
I
wanted
to
suffer
keenly
;
I
wanted
to
be
a
poor
devil
of
a
cabin
boy
,
kicked
,
beaten
,
and
sworn
at
—
for
a
time
.
Perhaps
some
hint
,
some
inkling
of
my
sufferings
might
reach
their
ears
.
In
due
course
the
sloop
or
felucca
would
turn
up
—
it
always
did
—
the
rakish
-
looking
craft
,
black
of
hull
,
low
in
the
water
,
and
bristling
with
guns
;
the
jolly
Roger
flapping
overhead
,
and
myself
for
sole
commander
.
By
and
by
,
as
usually
happened
,
an
East
Indiaman
would
come
sailing
along
full
of
relations
—
not
a
necessary
relation
would
be
missing
.
And
the
crew
should
walk
the
plank
,
and
the
captain
should
dance
from
his
own
yardarm
,
and
then
I
would
take
the
passengers
in
hand
—
that
miserable
group
of
well
-
known
figures
cowering
on
the
quarter
-
deck
!
—
and
then
—
and
then
the
same
old
performance
:
the
air
thick
with
magnanimity
.
In
all
the
repertory
of
heroes
,
none
is
more
truly
magnanimous
than
your
pirate
chief
.
When
at
last
I
brought
myself
back
from
the
future
to
the
actual
present
,
I
found
that
these
delectable
visions
had
helped
me
over
a
longer
stretch
of
road
than
I
had
imagined
;
and
I
looked
around
and
took
my
bearings
.
To
the
right
of
me
was
a
long
low
building
of
grey
stone
,
new
,
and
yet
not
smugly
so
;
new
,
and
yet
possessing
distinction
,
marked
with
a
character
that
did
not
depend
on
lichen
or
on
crumbling
semi
-
effacement
of
moulding
and
mullion
.
Strangers
might
have
been
puzzled
to
classify
it
;
to
me
,
an
explorer
from
earliest
years
,
the
place
was
familiar
enough
.
Most
folk
called
it
“
The
Settlement
”
;
others
,
with
quite
sufficient
conciseness
for
our
neighbourhood
,
spoke
of
“
them
there
fellows
up
by
Halliday
’
s
;
”
others
again
,
with
a
hint
of
derision
,
named
them
the
“
monks
.
”
This
last
title
I
supposed
to
be
intended
for
satire
,
and
knew
to
be
fatuously
wrong
.
I
was
thoroughly
acquainted
with
monks
—
in
books
—
and
well
knew
the
cut
of
their
long
frocks
,
their
shaven
polls
,
and
their
fascinating
big
dogs
,
with
brandy
-
bottles
round
their
necks
,
incessantly
hauling
happy
travellers
out
of
the
snow
.
The
only
dog
at
the
settlement
was
an
Irish
terrier
,
and
the
good
fellows
who
owned
him
,
and
were
owned
by
him
,
in
common
,
wore
clothes
of
the
most
nondescript
order
,
and
mostly
cultivated
side
-
whiskers
.
I
had
wandered
up
there
one
day
,
searching
(
as
usual
)
for
something
I
never
found
,
and
had
been
taken
in
by
them
and
treated
as
friend
and
comrade
.
They
had
made
me
free
of
their
ideal
little
rooms
,
full
of
books
and
pictures
,
and
clean
of
the
antimacassar
taint
;
they
had
shown
me
their
chapel
,
high
,
hushed
;
and
faintly
scented
,
beautiful
with
a
strange
new
beauty
born
both
of
what
it
had
and
what
it
had
not
—
that
too
familiar
dowdiness
of
common
places
of
worship
.
They
had
also
fed
me
in
their
dining
-
hall
,
where
a
long
table
stood
on
trestles
plain
to
view
,
and
all
the
woodwork
was
natural
,
unpainted
,
healthily
scrubbed
,
and
redolent
of
the
forest
it
came
from
.
I
brought
away
from
that
visit
,
and
kept
by
me
for
many
days
,
a
sense
of
cleanness
,
of
the
freshness
that
pricks
the
senses
—
the
freshness
of
cool
spring
water
;
and
the
large
swept
spaces
of
the
rooms
,
the
red
tiles
,
and
the
oaken
settles
,
suggested
a
comfort
that
had
no
connexion
with
padded
upholstery
.
On
this
particular
morning
I
was
in
much
too
unsociable
a
mind
for
paying
friendly
calls
.
Still
,
something
in
the
aspect
of
the
place
harmonised
with
my
humour
,
and
I
worked
my
way
round
to
the
back
,
where
the
ground
,
after
affording
level
enough
for
a
kitchen
-
garden
,
broke
steeply
away
.
Both
the
word
Gothic
and
the
thing
itself
were
still
unknown
to
me
;
yet
doubtless
the
architecture
of
the
place
,
consistent
throughout
,
accounted
for
its
sense
of
comradeship
in
my
hour
of
disheartenment
.
As
I
mused
there
,
with
the
low
,
grey
,
purposeful
-
looking
building
before
me
,
and
thought
of
my
pleasant
friends
within
,
and
what
good
times
they
always
seemed
to
be
having
,
and
how
they
larked
with
the
Irish
terrier
,
whose
footing
was
one
of
a
perfect
equality
,
I
thought
of
a
certain
look
in
their
faces
,
as
if
they
had
a
common
purpose
and
a
business
,
and
were
acting
under
orders
thoroughly
recognised
and
understood
.
I
remembered
,
too
,
something
that
Martha
had
told
me
,
about
these
same
fellows
doing
“
a
power
o
’
good
,
”
and
other
hints
I
had
collected
vaguely
,
of
renouncements
,
rules
,
self
-
denials
,
and
the
like
.
Thereupon
,
out
of
the
depths
of
my
morbid
soul
swam
up
a
new
and
fascinating
idea
;
and
at
once
the
career
of
arms
seemed
over
-
acted
and
stale
,
and
piracy
,
as
a
profession
,
flat
and
unprofitable
.
This
,
then
,
or
something
like
it
,
should
be
my
vocation
and
my
revenge
.
A
severer
line
of
business
,
perhaps
,
such
as
I
had
read
of
;
something
that
included
black
bread
and
a
hair
-
shirt
.
There
should
be
vows
,
too
—
irrevocable
,
blood
curdling
vows
;
and
an
iron
grating
.
This
iron
grating
was
the
most
necessary
feature
of
all
,
for
I
intended
that
on
the
other
side
of
it
my
relations
should
range
themselves
—
I
mentally
ran
over
the
catalogue
,
and
saw
that
the
whole
gang
was
present
,
all
in
their
proper
places
—
a
sad
-
eyed
row
,
combined
in
tristful
appeal
.
“
We
see
our
error
now
,
”
they
would
say
;
“
we
were
always
dull
dogs
,
slow
to
catch
—
especially
in
those
akin
to
us
—
the
finer
qualities
of
soul
!
We
misunderstood
you
,
misappreciated
you
,
and
we
own
up
to
it
.
And
now
—
”
“
Alas
,
my
dear
friends
,
”
I
would
strike
in
here
,
waving
towards
them
an
ascetic
hand
—
one
of
the
emaciated
sort
,
that
lets
the
light
shine
through
at
the
finger
-
tips
—
“
Alas
,
you
come
too
late
!
This
conduct
is
fitting
and
meritorious
on
your
part
,
and
indeed
I
always
expected
it
of
you
,
sooner
or
later
;
but
the
die
is
cast
,
and
you
may
go
home
again
and
bewail
at
your
leisure
this
too
tardy
repentance
of
yours
.
For
me
,
I
am
vowed
and
dedicated
,
and
my
relations
henceforth
are
austerity
and
holy
works
.
Once
a
month
,
should
you
wish
it
,
it
shall
be
your
privilege
to
come
and
gaze
at
me
through
this
very
solid
grating
;
but
—
”
WHACK
!
A
well
-
aimed
clod
of
garden
soil
,
whizzing
just
past
my
ear
,
starred
on
a
tree
-
trunk
behind
,
spattering
me
with
dirt
.
The
present
came
back
to
me
in
a
flash
,
and
I
nimbly
took
cover
behind
the
trees
,
realising
that
the
enemy
was
up
and
abroad
,
with
ambuscades
,
alarms
,
and
thrilling
sallies
.
It
was
the
gardener
’
s
boy
,
I
knew
well
enough
;
a
red
proletariat
,
who
hated
me
just
because
I
was
a
gentleman
.
Hastily
picking
up
a
nice
sticky
clod
in
one
hand
,
with
the
other
I
delicately
projected
my
hat
beyond
the
shelter
of
the
tree
-
trunk
.
I
had
not
fought
with
Red
-
skins
all
these
years
for
nothing
.
As
I
had
expected
,
another
clod
,
of
the
first
class
for
size
and
stickiness
,
took
my
poor
hat
full
in
the
centre
.
Then
,
Ajax
-
like
,
shouting
terribly
,
I
issued
from
shelter
and
discharged
my
ammunition
.
Woe
then
for
the
gardener
’
s
boy
,
who
,
unprepared
,
skipping
in
premature
triumph
,
took
the
clod
full
in
his
stomach
!
