the company; he was a soldier, and concentrated his mind upon the duties of the moment. Sentimentality was no part of his nature. He was a man, and must eat; he was a soldier, and must perform the work as a duty irrespective of consequences.
“Do you mind my smoke?” asked Harry.
“Oh dear, no,” said the Sergeant; “I like it.”
Joe stared and watched every bit as the Sergeant cut it. He looked admiringly on the soldier and so lovingly at the steak, that it almost seemed as if he wished he could be cut into such delicious morsels and eaten by so happy a man. What thoughts passed through his mind no one but a dreamer could tell; and this is what I saw passing through the mind of Wurzel.
“O, what a life! what grub! what jollyness! no turmut oeing; no dung-cart; no edgin and ditchin; no five o’clock in the mornin; no master; no bein sweared at; no up afore the magistrates; no ungriness; rump steaks and inguns; whiskey and water and bacca; if I didn’t like that air Polly Sweetlove, danged if I wouldn’t go for a soger to-morrer!”
Then said Joe, very deferentially and as if he were afraid of being up afore the magistrate, “If you please, sir, med I have a bit o’ that there bacca?”
“Of course,” said the Sergeant, tossing his pouch; “certainly; help yourself.”
Joe’s heart was softened more and more towards the military, which he had hitherto regarded, from all he could hear, as a devil’s own trap to catch Sabbath breakers and disobedient to parents.
And methought, in my dream, I never saw men who were not partakers of a feast enjoy it more than the onlookers of that military repast.