the sandy lane, it dwelt in the mind of the boy, affording copious food
for the exercise of imagination. From that moment with the name of Dane
were associated strange ideas of strength, daring, and superhuman
stature; and an undefinable curiosity for all that is connected with the
Danish race began to pervade me; and if, long after, when I became a
student, I devoted myself with peculiar zest to Danish lore and the
acquirement of the old Norse tongue and its dialects, I can only explain
the matter by the early impression received at Hythe from the tale of the
old sexton, beneath the pent-house, and the sight of the Danish skull.

And thus we went on straying from place to place, at Hythe to-day, and
perhaps within a week looking out from our hostel-window upon the streets
of old Winchester, our motions ever in accordance with the "route" of the
regiment, so habituated to change of scene that it had become almost
necessary to our existence. Pleasant were these days of my early
boyhood; and a melancholy pleasure steals over me as I recall them.
Those were stirring times of which I am speaking, and there was much
passing around me calculated to captivate the imagination. The dreadful
struggle which so long convulsed Europe, and in which England bore so
prominent a part, was then at its hottest; we were at war, and
determination and enthusiasm shone in every face; man, woman, and child
were eager to fight the Frank, the hereditary, but, thank God, never
dreaded enemy of the Anglo-Saxon race. "Love your country and beat the
French, and then never mind what happens," was the cry of entire England.
Oh, those were days of power, gallant days, bustling days, worth the
bravest days of chivalry, at least; tall battalions of native warriors
were marching through the land; there was the glitter of the bayonet and
the gleam of the sabre; the shrill squeak of the fife and loud rattling
of the drum were heard in the streets of country towns, and the loyal
shouts of the inhabitants greeted the soldiery on their arrival or
cheered them at their departure. And now let us leave the upland, and
descend to the sea-board; there is a sight for you upon the billows! A
dozen men-of-war are gliding majestically out of port, their long
buntings streaming from the top-gallant masts, calling on the skulking
Frenchman to come forth from his bights and bays; and what looms upon us
yonder from the fog-bank in the east? a gallant frigate towing beh