world.

Determined to get on well if possible, Phil was most assiduous in his
duties at the office, and took pains to master the writing put before
him. His employer he saw little of, but whenever they met he was
greeted politely, so that he had no cause to find fault in that
direction. But lack of friends and lack of outdoor exercise soon told
upon him. He lost his healthy looks and became pale and listless, for
in those days cycling was not in vogue, and it was seldom that a city
clerk was able to shake the soot and dirt of the streets from him and
get into the country.

"This won't do," thought Phil one evening as, chained to his desk on
account of unusual business, he drove his pen till the figures were
blurred and his fingers cramped. "If this is the life before me I had
rather be a soldier or a sailor and earn my shilling a day, and a little
adventure. Fellows have often told me that a steady young soldier is
bound to rise, and if he works hard and has a little education, may even
reach to commissioned rank. That takes years, of course, but supposing
it took ten I should be better off than after spending the same time in
this office. Larking has been here fifteen years, and look what he is!"

Phil raised his eyes from his work and stared thoughtfully at a bent and
prematurely-aged man who sat on his right. "Yes, I'd sooner see the
world and run the risk of losing my life in some far-off country than
live to grow up like that," he mused pityingly. "At any rate I'll go
and have a chat with Sergeant-major Williams."

The latter was a veteran of the Foot Guards, who had long ago earned a
pension, and now lived with his wife on the same landing as Phil.

"Tired of your job, lad, are you?" he remarked, when Phil entered his
room that night, saying that he had come for a chat and some advice.
"Well, now, I'm not greatly surprised; though, mind you, there's many a
poor starving chap as would only be too glad to step into your shoes.
What chance has a youngster in the army, you ask? Every chance, sir;
every chance. Look at me"--and the old soldier stood upright on the
hearth-rug and threw out his chest, thereby showing the row of medals
pinned to his waistcoat. "I was your age, my lad, when I first 'listed,
and when I had got my uniform and stood on parade for the first time,
trying to look as though I knew all about it, with my chest somewhere
close to my back and my stomach showing well in front, why, the