“We are young, my friend; but, nevertheless, it must seem, even to us, at this our moment of victory, that exaltation of spirits does not, as a rule, crown real success.”
“You are right. All is change in this world, and happiness lies only in onwardness.
‘Man never is, but always to be blest.’
“Happiness lies in onwardness, in forwardness, in action, in the doing of a work and not in its completion.”
“Just for all the world, Ingomar, like the boy who sets out to scamper half a mile over field and moor to find the cup of gold at the point of the rainbow. The glory of the coloured arch makes him so happy all the while till it vanishes, but he returns disappointed because he has not found the cup of gold at the spot where he made certain it lay.”
“But now, away with all thoughts of sadness. I think we’ve made a noble record, so let us sing your national hymn, then plant our flag.”
“We’ll sing both,” said Curtis, lifting his cap; “but you first, lad, you first.”
The American National Anthem was sung in fine form, and after they had raised the united standard—Stars and Stripes and Union Jack—and given three cheers thereto, still with bared heads in that zero air they sang God save the Queen, for our dear old Empress was then alive—
“God save our gracious Queen,
Long may Victoria reign,
God save the Queen.
Send her victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
God save the Queen.”
As if by mutual consent, they paused for a few minutes to gaze once more, and for the last time, on their new country—on the cold and silent land and sea.