Blue Lights | Page 5

beginning of the war, and fought at the famous battle of Tel-el-Kebir.
In his grave and undemonstrative way and quiet voice, this man related some of his experiences, so as not only to gain the attention of his companion in arms, but to fascinate all who chanced to be within earshot of him--not the least interested among whom, of course, was our friend Miles.
As the sergeant continued to expatiate on those incidents of the war which had come under his own observation, three points impressed themselves on our hero: first, that the sergeant was evidently a man of serious, if not religious, spirit; second, that while he gave all due credit to his comrades for their bravery in action, he dwelt chiefly on those incidents which brought out the higher qualities of the men, such as uncomplaining endurance, forbearance, etcetera, and he never boasted of having given "a thorough licking" to the Egyptians, nor spoke disparagingly of the native troops; lastly, that he seemed to lay himself out with a special view to the unflagging entertainment of his young comrade.
The reason for this last purpose he learned during a short halt at one of the stations. Seeing the sergeant standing alone there, Miles, after accosting him with the inevitable references to the state of the weather, remarked that his comrade seemed to be almost too young for the rough work of soldiering.
"Yes, he is young enough, but older than he looks," answered the sergeant. "Poor lad! I'm sorry for him."
"Indeed! He does not seem to me a fit subject for pity. Young, strong, handsome, intelligent, he seems pretty well furnished to begin the battle of life--especially in the army."
"`Things are not what they seem,'" returned the soldier, regarding his young questioner with something between a compassionate and an amused look. "`All is not gold that glitters.' Soldiering is not made up of brass bands, swords, and red coats!"
"Having read a good deal of history I am well aware of that," retorted Miles, who was somewhat offended by the implication contained in the sergeant's remarks.
"Well, then, you see," continued the sergeant, "all the advantages that you have mentioned, and which my comrade certainly possesses, weigh nothing with him at all just now, because this sudden call to the wars separates him from his poor young wife."
"Wife!" exclaimed Miles; "why, he seems to me little more than a boy-- except in size, and perhaps in gravity."
"He is over twenty, and, as to gravity--well, most young fellows would be grave enough if they had to leave a pretty young wife after six months of wedded life. You see, he married without leave, and so, even if it were a time of peace, his wife would not be recognised by the service. In wartime he must of course leave her behind him. It has been a hard job to prevent him from deserting, and now it's all I can do to divert his attention from his sorrow by stirring him up with tales of the recent wars."
At this point the inexorable bell rang, doors were banged, whistles sounded, and the journey was resumed.
Arrived at Portsmouth, Miles was quickly involved in the bustle of the platform. He had made up his mind to have some private conversation with the sergeant as to the possibility of entering her Majesty's service as a private soldier, and was on the point of accompanying his military travelling companions into the comparative quiet of the street when a porter touched his cap--
"Any luggage, sir?"
"Luggage?--a--no--no luggage!"
It was the first moment since leaving home that the thought of luggage had entered into his brain! That thought naturally aroused other thoughts, such as lodgings, food, friends, funds, and the like. On turning to the spot where his military companions had stood, he discovered that they were gone. Running to the nearest door-way he found it to be the wrong one, and before he found the right one and reached the street the two soldiers had vanished from the scene.
"You seem to be a stranger here, sir. Can I direct you?" said an insinuating voice at his elbow.
The speaker was an elderly man of shabby-genteel appearance and polite address. Miles did not quite like the look of him. In the circumstances, however, and with a strangely desolate feeling of loneliness creeping over him, he did not see his way to reject a civil offer.
"Thank you. I am indeed a stranger, and happen to have neither friend nor acquaintance in the town, so if you can put me in the way of finding a respectable lodging--a--a cheap one, you will greatly oblige me."
"With pleasure," said the man, "if you will accompany--"
"Stay, don't trouble yourself to show me the way," interrupted Miles; "just name a house and the street, that will--"
"No trouble at all, sir," said the