l muscles stood out like a superior
being to the three who were alongside. Half-way a poet marched. What
form his poesy took--whether he expressed beauty in words, or, catching
the music of the western wind, wove it into a melody, or whether he
just dreamed and never told of what he dreamed--it matters not; he was
a poet. His step, his dreamy eyes, the poise of his forehead raised
slightly towards the skies, were things which showed his personality as
clearly as the mighty forearm or the plethora of buttons bespoke the
labourer or the costermonger.

With a great sense of pity the American watched them pass, while the
skirl of the bagpipes lessened in the distance. In spite of the
dissimilarity of type, there was a community of shyness that embraced
almost every one--a silent plea not to be mistaken for heroes. As they
passed the Horse Guards and saw the two sentries astride their horses
still as statues (their glorious trappings, breastplates, helmets, and
swords, the embodiment of spectacular militarism) an apologetic,
humorous smile was on the face of almost every recruit. The sight was
a familiar enough one to the large majority, but in the presence of
those grim, superb cavalrymen they felt the self-conscious
embarrassment of small boys about to enter a room full of their elders.

In its own way it was Britain's mob saying to Britain's Regulars that
it was to be hoped no one would think they imagined themselves soldiers
in the real sense of the word.

But to Selwyn the noise of their marching feet on the roadway had the
ominous sound of the roll of the tumbrils, bearing their victims to the
guillotine.

The procession was nearly ended and he was about to turn away, when his
eye was attracted by a peculiar pair of knees encased in trousers that
were much too tight, working jerkily from side to side as their owner
marched. Although his face was almost hidden by reason of his vagabond
hat being completely on one side, it was not difficult to recognise the
futurist, Johnston Smyth. He appeared to be in rare form, as an
admiring group of fellow-recruits in his immediate vicinity were almost
doubled up with laughter, and even the grizzled Highland sergeant
marching sternly in the rear had such difficulty in suppressing a loud
guffaw that his face was a mottled purple.

And marching beside the humorist, with a slouch-cap low over his eyes,
was the lad who was known as 'Boy-blue.'

IV.

_As this tale of t