more, and once
more failed; when it became clear to Harker that he, the blushing
debutant, was actually giving a lesson to this full-grown flutist--and
the flutist under his care was not very brilliantly progressing--how am
I to tell what floods of glory brightened the autumnal countryside; how,
unless the reader were an amateur himself, describe the heights of
idiotic vanity to which the carrier climbed? One significant fact shall
paint the situation: thenceforth it was Harker who played, and the
military gentleman listened and approved.

As he listened, however, he did not forget the habit of soldierly
precaution, looking both behind and before. He looked behind and
computed the value of the carrier's load, divining the contents of the
brown-paper parcels and the portly hamper, and briefly setting down the
grand piano in the brand-new piano-case as "difficult to get rid of." He
looked before, and spied at the corner of the green lane a little
country public-house embowered in roses. "I'll have a shy at it,"
concluded the military gentleman, and roundly proposed a glass.

"Well, I'm not a drinking man," said Harker.

"Look here, now," cut in the other, "I'll tell you who I am: I'm
Colour-Sergeant Brand of the Blankth. That'll tell you if I'm a drinking
man or not." It might and it might not, thus a Greek chorus would have
intervened, and gone on to point out how very far it fell short of
telling why the sergeant was tramping a country lane in tatters; or even
to argue that he must have pretermitted some while ago his labours for
the general defence, and (in the interval) possibly turned his attention
to oakum. But there was no Greek chorus present; and the man of war went
on to contend that drinking was one thing and a friendly glass another.

In the Blue Lion, which was the name of the country public-house,
Colour-Sergeant Brand introduced his new friend, Mr. Harker, to a number
of ingenious mixtures, calculated to prevent the approaches of
intoxication. These he explained to be "rekisite" in the service, so
that a self-respecting officer should always appear upon parade in a
condition honourable to his corps. The most efficacious of these devices
was to lace a pint of mild ale with twopence-worth of London gin. I am
pleased to hand in this recipe to the discerning reader, who may find it
useful even in civil station; for its effect upon Mr. Harker was
revolutionary. He must be helped on board his own waggon, wher