ontinued, they irritated me.

There is a monotony in the life of the average soldier or sailor which
has a very deadening effect upon character--seeing the same faces,
hearing the same things, performing the same routine in the same kind
of way every day, year in and year out, makes him a sort of automaton.
Kipling has told us something of the effect of this thing in "Soldiers
Three." There came a time when I broke under the strain of this man's
continued insults. For nearly a year I got comfort from the advice of
the brethren. We had a weekly meeting where our difficulties were
considered and prayed over, but the consolation of my brethren finally
refused to suffice, and, being a healthy, normal, vigorous animal with
some little experience of looking after myself, I began to resent the
insults and make some show of defence. This change of front incensed
the bully, and one day he hurled an exceedingly nasty epithet at
me--one of those vulgar but usual epithets current in army speech. The
reference in it to my mother stirred me with indignation and I
announced in a fit of anger my willingness to be thrashed or thrash
him if the thing was repeated. It was not only repeated at once, but
seizing a lump of dough, he hurled it at my head. I ducked my head and
it hit another man on the jaw, but the gauntlet was on the floor and
an hour afterward the port side of the gun deck was a mass of solidly
packed sailors and marines. My brethren came to me one after another.
They quoted scores of texts to make me uncomfortable. I tried to joke,
but my lips were parched and my tongue unwilling to act. I was pale
and trembling. I knew what I was up against, but determined to see it
through. One text only I could remember in this exigency and I quoted
it to Lanky Lawrence, the big sailmaker who was the leader of our
sect. "Lanky, m' boy," I said to him, "I'm goin' to hing m' hat on one
text fur the space of a good thrashin'."

"What is it?" asked the sailmaker.

"'As much as lieth in ye, live peaceably wid all men.' Now I have done
that same, and bedad, I have done it to the limit and I'm goin' to
jump into this physical continshun so that of out it I will bring
pace!"

"Ye're all wrong!" said the sailmaker.

"I know it, but from the straight-lacedness of your theology I want a
vacation, Lanky, just for the space that it takes to get a lickin' wan
way or th' other." So the thing began. My chief endeavour was to
escape punishment, but