whilst I was staring at one of
the sunlit fountains in Trafalgar Square, and listening to the bells of
Westminster as they chimed the hour of four, a venerable old spider in a
blue uniform with brass buttons, and a triple chevron of gold lace upon
his arm, accosted me without introduction and asked me what I thought
about life in the Army. Until then, so far as I can remember, I had
never thought about the Army at all. My eighteenth birthday was just one
month and twelve days behind me; I had one and sevenpence in the wide
world; I was smoking the last cigar of an expensive box, in the purchase
of which I had not been justified by the means at my disposal; and I was
in mortal terror of my landlady. It had been discovered at the printing
office of Messrs Unwin Bros., at which I had been engaged as an
"improver," that I had no regular indentures, and I had been thrown upon
a merely casual employment amongst as undesirable and as hopeless a set
as could have been found at that time in my trade in London. Apart from
all these considerations, the world had come to an end because a
certain young lady, who, to the best of my belief, is still alive, and
a prosperous and happy grandmother, had unequivocally declined to marry
me. The blue-clad spider had no need to spread the web of temptation. I
resolved in an instant, and he and I adjourned to a backyard somewhere
in the neighbourhood, for which I have long since sought in vain.
I rather fancy that the wide spaces of Northumberland Avenue have
displaced it; but, in any case, the route we took led us towards the
river, the smell of which comes back to my nostrils at the moment at
which I write, with a queer mingled suggestion of sludge, and sunlight,
and sewage.

In that backyard I was put to a sort of mild ordeal by question. Was I
married? Was I an apprentice? Had I ever been refused for either of Her
Majesty's Services on account of any physical defect? Was I aware of any
such defect as would debar me from service? Had I ever been convicted of
any crime or misdemeanour? To all these queries I was able to answer in
the negative; but, whilst the solemn interrogation was going on, a young
man with his head full of flour, and his hands and arms covered with
little spirals and pills of dough, appeared at the top of a neighbouring
wall. "Don't you believe a word of what that cove is telling you," he
counselled, and so disappeared, in obedience to a rather urgent gesture
from the b