sition, that more seniority also means less youth
and joy--that Fate only robs Peter to pay Paul, and, when bestowing a
blessing with one hand, invariably bestows a curse with the other?
Too thin.
Excellent philosophy for the butterfly upon the road, preaching
contentment to the toad, who, beneath the harrow, knows exactly where
each tooth-point goes. Let the butterfly come and try it.
_What_ a life!
Not so bad at first, perhaps, for a stout-hearted, hefty sportsman,
during recruit days when everything is novel, there is something to
learn, time is fully occupied, and one is too busy to think, too busy
evading strange pit-falls, and the just or (more often) unjust wrath
of the Room Corporal, the Squadron Orderly Sergeant, the Rough-Riding
Corporal, the Squadron Sergeant-Major, the Rough-Riding
Sergeant-Major, the Regimental Sergeant-Major, the Riding-Master.
But when, to the passed "dismissed soldier," everything is familiar
and easy, weary, flat, stale and unprofitable?
The (to one gently nurtured) ghastly food, companions, environment,
monotony--the ghastly ambitions!
Fancy an educated gentleman's ambitions and horizon narrowed to a
good-conduct "ring," a stripe in the far future (and to be a
Lance-Corporal with far more duty and no more pay, in the hope of
becoming a Corporal--that comfortable rank with the same duty and much
more pay, and little of the costly gold-lace to mount, and heavy
expenses to assume that, while putting the gilt on, takes it off, the
position of Sergeant); and, for the present, to "keep off the peg,"
not to be "for it," to "get the stick," for smartest turn-out, to
avoid the Red-Caps,[20] to achieve an early place in the scrimmage at
the corn-bin and to get the correct amount of two-hundred pounds in
the corn-sack when drawing forage and corn; to placate Troop
Sergeants, the Troop Sergeant-Major and Squadron Sergeant-Major; to
have a suit of mufti at some safe place outside and to escape from the
branding searing scarlet occasionally; possibly even the terrible
ambition to become an Officer's servant so as to have a suit of mufti
as a right, and a chance of becoming Mess-Sergeant and then
Quarter-Master, and perhaps of getting an Honorary Commission without
doing a single parade or guard after leaving the troop!...
What a life for a man of breeding and refinement!... Fancy having to
remember the sacred and immeasurable superiority of a foul-mouthed
Lance-Corporal who might w
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