ed him out as a capable fellow, and
as the cold winter days passed away and spring began to advance Tom
could undergo a twenty- or thirty-mile march without weariness. He was
well fed, well housed, and well clothed, and while his pocket money was
not extravagant, he had enough for his needs.

Indeed in many respects it would have been better for Tom if he had had
less money. The influence of the Thorn and Thistle was still strong
upon him, and I have to relate with sadness that on more than one
occasion Tom barely escaped punishment for being drunk and disorderly.
Most of the lads with whom he was brought into contact were, on the
whole, steady and well-behaved. On the other hand, however, there were
a number of them who had a bad influence upon him. In fact, while he
narrowly escaped being brought before his superiors for his various
misdemeanours, Tom's character was steadily deteriorating. The first
flush of enthusiasm, and loyalty, and even something nobler than
loyalty, which had been aroused in him by the speaker who had caused
him to join the army, slowly faded away. The men with whom he
associated did not help him to be on the side of the angels, rather
they appealed to what was coarse and debased in his nature.

To tell the truth, there was very little in Tom's life which tended to
ennoble him. It is true there was a service for soldiers every Sunday
morning in one of the big buildings in the town, and while Tom, lover
of music as he had always been, was somewhat influenced by the singing
of the men, and while the hymns reminded him of his Sunday-school days,
they did not move him very deeply. He paid little or no attention to
the ministrations of the chaplain. Neither did he avail himself of the
many meetings which were held for soldiers by the various churches in
the town. Indeed, up to this point Tom was not the better, but the
worse, for joining the Army.

There was in Tom's company a young fellow much superior to the rank and
file of the soldiers. He was a young Cornish lad, the son of a
well-to-do father who had sent him to a good public school, and from
thence to Lancashire to learn the manufacturing business. This young
fellow, Robert Penrose by name, although belonging socially to a
different class from that in which Tom moved, took a liking to him. He
was amused at his good humour, and seemed to be grieved at seeing him
drifting with the dregs of the battalion.

"I say, Pollard," he s