indeed; though, if I was dead,
I shouldn't know much more about it. But, without reproach to you, I
cannot make out altogether that our only business is to carry letters
for the prisoners, as now may be in England, from their loving friends
to command in their native country. I won't say against you, sir, if
you say it is--that is, to the outside of all your knowledge. And twenty
thousand of them may need letters by the sack. But what use they could
make, sir, of cannon as big as I be, and muskets that would kill a man
a hundred yards of distance, and bayonets more larger and more sharper
than ever I see before, even with the Royal Volunteers--this goes out of
all my calculation."

"Daniel, you have expressed your views, which are remarkable--as indeed
they always are--with your usual precision. But you have not observed
things with equal accuracy. Do you know when a gun is past service?"

"No, sir; I never was a poacher, no-how. Squire Darling, that is to say,
Sir Charles Darling now, according to a chap on board, he was always so
good upon his land that nobody durst go a-poaching."

"I mean a cannon, Dan. They don't poach with cannon yet, though they may
come to do it, as the game-laws increase. Do you know when a cannon is
unsafe to fire, though it may look as bright as ever, like a worn-out
poker? All those things that have frightened you are only meant for
ornament. You know that every ancient building ought to have its
armoury, as this castle always had, until they were taken away and sold.
My intention is to restore it, when I can afford to do so. And having
a lot of worn-out weapons offered me for next to nothing, I seized the
chance of bringing them. When times are better, and the war is over, I
may find time to arrange them. But that is not of much importance. The
great point is to secure the delivery of letters from their native
land to the brave men here as prisoners. I cannot afford to do that for
nothing, though I make no profit out of it. I have so many things to
think about that I scarcely know which to consider first. And after all,
what matters to us whether those poor men are allowed to die, and be
buried like dogs, without knowledge of their friends? Why should we run
the risk of being punished for them?"

"Well, sir, that seems hard doctrine, if I may be allowed to say so,
and not like your kind-heartedness. Our Government have no right to stop
them of their letters."

"It is a cruel thing. But