Blue Lights: Hot Work in the Soudan

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

  DESCRIBES A FEW MEETINGS AND SEVERAL SURPRISES.

  The fight described in the last chapter was only one of the numerousskirmishes that were taking place almost daily near Suakim at that time.But it turned out to be a serious occasion to our hero, for it cost himone of his hands, and put an end to his soldiering days for ever.

  On being taken to the British lines the surgeons saw at once thatamputation a little above the wrist was absolutely necessary. Of courseMiles--although overwhelmed with dismay on hearing the fiat of thedoctors--could offer no objection. With the informal celerity ofsurgical operations as practised in the field, the shattered limb wasremoved, and almost before he could realise the full significance ofwhat was being done our poor hero was _minus_ his left hand! Besidesthis, he was so cut and battered about, that most of his hair had to becut off, and his head bandaged and plastered so that those of his oldcomrades who chanced to be with the troops at the time could recognisehim only by his voice. Even that was scarcely audible when he wascarried into Suakim.

  At this time the hospitals at Suakim were overcrowded to such an extentthat many of the wounded and invalids had to be sent on by sea to Suezand the hospitals at Ramleh. Miles was sent on along with these, andfinally found rest at Alexandria.

  And great was the poor fellow's need of rest, for, besides the terriblesufferings and hardships he had endured while in captivity, the woundsand bruises, the loss of blood and of his left hand, and the fatigue ofthe voyage, his mind was overwhelmed by the consideration that even ifhe should recover he was seriously maimed for life. In addition to allthis suffering, Miles, while at Suakim, had received a blow whichwell-nigh killed him. A letter came informing him of the sudden deathof his father, and bitter remorse was added to his misery as he layhelpless in his cot on the Red Sea.

  The consequent depression, acting on his already exhausted powers afterhe reached Alexandria, brought him to the verge of the grave. Indeed,one of the nurses said one day to one of her fellows, with a shake ofher head, "Ah! poor fellow, he won't last long!"

  "Won't he!" thought Miles, with a feeling of strong indignation. "Much_you_ know about it!"

  You see Miles possessed a tendency to abstract reasoning, and couldmeditate upon his own case without, so to speak, much reference tohimself! His indignation was roused by the fact that any one, callingherself a nurse, should be so stupid as to whisper beside a patientwords that he should not hear. He did not know that the nurse inquestion was a new one--not thoroughly alive to her duties andresponsibilities. Strange to say, her stupidity helped to render herown prophecy incorrect, for the indignation quickened the soldier'sfeeble pulse, and that gave him a fillip in the right direction.

  The prostration, however, was very great, and for some time the life ofour hero seemed to hang by a thread. During this dark period the valueof a godly mother's teaching became deeply impressed on him, by the factthat texts from God's Word, which had been taught him in childhood, andwhich he seemed to have quite forgotten, came trooping into his mind,and went a long way to calm and comfort him. He dwelt with specialpleasure on those that told of love and mercy in Jesus to the thanklessand undeserving; for, now that strength, health, and the high hopes of abrilliant career were shattered at one blow, his eyes were cleared oflife's glamour to see that in his existence hitherto he had beenungodly--not in the sense of his being much worse than ordinary people,but in the sense of his being quite indifferent to his Maker, and thathis fancied condition of not-so-badness would not stand the test of adying hour.

  About this time, too, he became desperately anxious to write to hismother, not by dictation, but with his own hand. This being impossiblein the circumstances, he began to fret, and his power to sleep at lengthfailed him. Then a strange desire to possess a rose seized him--perhapsbecause he knew it to be his mother's favourite flower. Whatever thecause, the longing increased his insomnia, and as he did not say,perhaps did not know, that the want of a rose had anything to do withhis complaint, no one at first thought of procuring one for him.

  He was lying meditating, wakefully, about many things one day when oneof the nurses approached his bed. He did not see her at first, becausehis head was so swathed in bandages that only one eye was permitted todo duty, and that, as Molloy might have said, was on the lee-side of hisnose--supposing the side next the nurse to represent the wind'ard side!

  "I have been laid up a long time," said a lady, who accompanied thenurse, "and have been longing to resume my visits here, as one or twopatients whom I used to nurse are still in hospital."

  The heart of Miles gave a bound such as it had not attempted since thenight he witnessed the murder on the battle-field, for the voice wasthat of Mrs Drew.

  "This is one of our latest arrivals," remarked the nurse, lowering hervoice as they advanced. "A poor young soldier--lost a hand and badlywounded--can't sleep. He has taken a strange longing of late for arose, and I have asked a friend to fetch one for him."

  "How lucky that we happen to have one with us!" said Mrs Drew, lookingback over her shoulder where her daughter stood, concealed from view byher ample person. "Marion, dear, will you part with your rose-bud to awounded soldier?"

  "Certainly, mother, I will give it him myself."

  She stepped quickly forward, and looked sadly at the solitary, glowingeye which gazed at her, as she unfastened a rose-bud from her bosom. Itwas evident that she did not recognise Miles, and no wonder, for,besides the mass of bandages from out of which his one eye glowed, therewas a strip of plaster across the bridge of his nose, a puffy swellingin one of the cheeks, and the handsome mouth and chin were somewhatveiled by a rapidly developing moustache and beard.

  Miles did not speak--he could not speak; he scarcely dared to breathe asthe girl placed a red rose-bud in his thin hand. His trembling fingersnot only took the rose, but the hand that gave it, and pressed it feeblyto his lips.

  With a few words of comfort and good wishes the ladies passed on. ThenMiles drew the rose down under the bed-clothes, put it to his lips, and,with a fervently thankful mind, fell into the first profound slumberthat he had enjoyed for many days.

  This was a turning-point. From that day Miles began to mend. He didnot see Marion again for some time, for her visit had been quiteincidental, but he was satisfied to learn that she was staying at theInstitute with her mother, assisting the workers there. He wiselyresolved to do and say nothing at that time, but patiently to wait andget well, for he had a shrewd suspicion that to present himself toMarion under existing circumstances would be, to say the least,injudicious.

  Meanwhile, time, which "waits for no man," passed on. As Miles becamestronger he began to go about the hospital, chatting with theconvalescent patients and trying to make himself generally useful. Onone of these occasions he met with a man who gave him the sorrowful newsthat Sergeant Hardy was dead, leaving Miles his executor and residuarylegatee. He also learned, to his joy, that his five comrades,Armstrong, Molloy, Stevenson, Moses, and Simkin, had escaped with theirlives from the fight on the hillock where he fell, and that, though allwere more or less severely wounded, they were doing well at Suakim."Moreover," continued his informant, "I expect to hear more about 'emto-night, for the mail is due, and I've got a brother in Suakim."

  That night not only brought news of the five heroes, but also broughtthemselves, for, having all been wounded at the same time, all had beensent to Alexandria together. As they were informed at Suakim that theircomrade Miles had been invalided home, they did not, of course, makefurther inquiry about him there.

  While they stayed there, awaiting the troop-ship which was to take themhome, they made Miss Robinson's Institute their constant rendezvous, forthere they not only found all the comforts of English life, but the joyof meeting with many old comrades, not a few of whom were either drawn,or being drawn, to God by the influences of the place.

  It chanced that at the time of their arrival Mrs Drew and her daughterhad gone to visit a
n English family living in the city, and did not forseveral days return to the Institute; thus the invalids failed to meettheir lady friends at first. But about this time there was announced asource of attraction in the large hall which brought them together.This attraction--which unites all creeds and classes and nationalitiesin one great bond of sympathy--we need hardly say was music! A concertwas to take place in the great hall of the Institute for some localcharity, we believe, but are not sure, at which the _elite_ ofAlexandria was expected, and the musical talent of Alexandria was toperform--among others the band of the somethingth Regiment. And let usimpress on you, reader, that the band of the somethingth Regiment wassomething to be proud of!

  This brought numerous friends to the "Officers' House," and greatnumbers of soldiers and Jack-tars to the various rooms of the Institute.

  In one of these rooms, towards evening, our friend Stevenson wasengaged, at the request of the Superintendent, in relating to a numberof earnest-minded men a brief account of the wonderful experiences thathe and his comrades had recently had in the Soudan, and Jack Molloy satnear him, emphasising with a nod of his shaggy head, or a "Right youare, messmate," or a slap on his thigh, all the marine's points,especially those in which his friend, passing over second causes,referred all their blessings and deliverances direct to his loving Godand Father. In another room a Bible-reading was going on, accompaniedby prayer and praise. In the larger rooms, tea, coffee, etcetera, werebeing consumed to an extent that "no fellow can understand," exceptthose who did it! Games and newspapers and illustrated magazines,etcetera, were rife elsewhere, while a continuous roar, rather theconventional "buzz," of conversation was going on everywhere. But,apparently, not a single oath in the midst of it all! The moralatmosphere of the place was so pure that even bad men respected--perhapsapproved--it.

  Just before the hour of the concert our friends, the five invalids, satgrouped round a table near the door. They were drinking tea, and mostof them talking with tremendous animation--for not one of them had beenwounded in the tongue! Indeed it did not appear that any of them hadbeen very seriously wounded anywhere.

  While they were yet in the midst of their talk two lady-workers camedown the long room, followed by two other ladies in deep mourning, theyounger of whom suddenly sprang towards our quintet, and, clasping herhands, stood speechless before them, staring particularly at JackMolloy, who returned the gaze with interest.

  "Beg pard'n, Miss Drew," exclaimed the sailor, starting up in confusion,and pulling his forelock, "but you've hove me all aback!"

  "Mr Molloy!" gasped Marion, grasping his hand and looking furtivelyround, "is it possible? Have you _all_ escaped? Is--is--"

  "Yes, Miss, we've all escaped, thank God, an' we're all here--'cept JohnMiles, in coorse, for he's bin invalided home--"

  "He's no more invalided home than yourself, Jack," said a seaman, whowas enjoying his coffee at a neighbouring table; "leastwise I seed JohnMiles myself yesterday in hospital wi' my own two eyes, as isn't apt todeceive me."

  "Are ye sure o' that, mate?" cried Molloy, turning in excitement to theman, and totally forgetting Marion.

  "Mother, let us go out!" whispered the latter, leaning heavily on MrsDrew's arm.

  They passed out to the verandah--scarcely observed, owing to theexcitement of the quintet at the sailor's news--and there she would havefallen down if she had not been caught in the arms of a soldier who wasadvancing towards the door.

  "Mr Miles!" exclaimed Mrs Drew, as she looked up in amazement at thescarred and worn face.

  "Ay, Mrs Drew, through God's mercy I am here. But help me: I have notstrength to carry her _now_."

  Marion had nearly fainted, and was led with the assistance of her motherto a retired part of the garden, and placed in an easy-chair. Seeingthat the girl was recovering, the other ladies judiciously left them,and Miles explained to the mother, while she applied smelling-salts toMarion, that he had come on purpose to meet them, hoping and expectingthat they would be attracted to the concert, like all the rest of theworld, though he had scarcely looked for so peculiar a meeting!

  "But how did you know we were here at all?" asked Mrs Drew in surprise.

  "I saw you in the hospital," replied Miles, with a peculiar look. "Yourkind daughter gave me a rose!"

  He pointed as he spoke to a withered bud which was fastened to his coat.

  "But--but--that young man had lost his hand; the nurse told us so,"exclaimed Mrs Drew, with a puzzled look.

  Miles silently pointed to the handless arm which hung at his left side.

  Marion had turned towards him with a half-frightened look. She nowleaned back in her chair and covered her face with both hands.

  "Mr Miles," said the wise old lady, with a sudden and violent change ofsubject, "your friends Armstrong and Molloy are in the Institute at thismoment waiting for you!"

  Our hero needed no second hint. Next minute he dashed into the entrancehall, with wonderful vigour for an invalid, for he heard the bass voiceof Molloy exclaiming--

  "I don't care a button, leave or no leave, I'll make my way to John Mi--Hallo!"

  The "Hallo!" was caused by his being rushed into by the impetuous Mileswith such force that they both staggered.

  "Why, John, you're like the ram of an iron-clad! Is it really yourself?Give us your flipper, my boy!"

  But the flipper was already in that of Willie Armstrong, while theothers crowded round him with congratulations.

  "Wot on airth's all the noise about in that there corner?" exclaimed aJack-tar, who was trying hard to tell an interminable story to a quietshipmate in spite of the din.

  "It's only that we've diskivered our captin," cried Molloy, eager to getany one to sympathise.

  "Wot captin's that?" growled the Jack-tar.

  "Why, him as led us on the hillock, to be sure, at Suakim."

  When acts of heroism and personal prowess are of frequent occurrence,deeds of daring are not apt to draw general attention, unless they riseabove the average. The "affair of the hillock," however, as it got tobe called, although unnoticed in despatches, or the public prints, waswell-known among the rank and file who did the work in those hotregions. When, therefore, it became known that the six heroes, who haddistinguished themselves on that hillock, were present, a great deal ofinterest was exhibited. This culminated when a little man rushedsuddenly into the room, and, with a wild "hooroo!" seized Molloy roundthe waist--he wasn't tall enough to get him comfortably by the neck--andappeared to wrestle with him.

  "It's Corporal Flynn--or his ghost!" exclaimed Molloy.

  "Sure an' it's both him an' his ghost togither!" exclaimed the corporal,shaking hands violently all round.

  "I thought ye was sent home," said Moses.

  "Niver a bit, man; they tell awful lies where you've come from. Iwouldn't take their consciences as a gift. I'm as well as iver, andbetter; but I'm goin' home for all that, to see me owld grandmother. Yeneedn't laugh, you spalpeens. Come, three cheers, boys, for the `heroeso' the hillock!'"

  Most heartily did the men there assembled respond to this call, and thenthe entire assembly cleared off to the concert, with the exception ofMiles Milton. "He," as Corporal Flynn knowingly observed, "had otherfish to fry." He fried these fish in company with Mrs and Marion Drew;but as the details of this culinary proceeding were related to us instrict confidence, we refuse to divulge them, and now draw the curtaindown on the ancient land of Egypt.

  CHAPTER THIRTY.

  CONCLUSION.

  Once more we return to the embarkation jetty at Portsmouth.

  There, as of old, we find a huge, white-painted troop-ship warpingslowly in, her bulwarks and ports crowded with white helmets, and eagerfaces gazing at the equally eager but anxious faces on shore.

  Miss Robinson's coffee-shed shows signs of life! Our friend Brown isstimulating the boiler. The great solitary port-hole has been opened,and the never-failing lady-workers are there, preparing their ammunitionand getting ready for action, for every
troop-ship that comes toPortsmouth from foreign shores, laden with the bronzed warriors ofBritain, has to face the certainty of going into action with thatunconquerable little coffee-shed!

  We do not, however, mean to draw the reader again through the old scene,further than to point out that, among the many faces that loom overthese bulwarks, five are familiar, namely, those of our friends MilesMilton, William Armstrong, Moses Pyne, Stevenson, and Simkin. JackMolloy is not with them, because he has preferred to remain in Egypt,believing himself to be capable of still further service to Queen andcountry.

  A feeling of great disappointment oppresses Miles and his friendArmstrong, for they fail to recognise in the eager crowd those whom theyhad expected to see.

  "My mother must be ill," muttered Miles.

  "So must my Emmy," murmured his friend.

  There was a very anxious little widow on the jetty who could _not_manage to distinguish individuals in the sea of brown faces and whitehelmets, because the tears in her eyes mixed them all up mostperplexingly. It is not surprising that Miles had totally failed torecognise the mother of old in the unfamiliar widow's weeds--especiallywhen it is considered that his was a shrinking, timid mother, who keptwell in the background of the demonstrative crowd. Their eyes met atlast, however, and those of the widow opened wide with surprise at thechange in the son, while those of the son were suddenly blinded withtears at the change in the mother.

  Then they met--and such a meeting!--in the midst of men and women,elbowing, crowding, embracing, exclaiming, rejoicing, chaffing, weeping!It was an awkward state of things, but as every one else was in thesame predicament, and as all were more or less swallowed up in their ownaffairs, Miles and his mother were fain to make the best of it. Theyretired under the partial shelter of a bulkhead, where block-tackles andnautical debris interfered with their footing, and tarry odours regaledtheir noses, and there, in semi-publicity, they interchanged their firstconfidences.

  Suddenly Mrs Milton observed a tall young fellow standing not far off,looking wistfully at the bewildering scene, apparently in deepdejection.

  "Who is that, Miles?" she asked.

  "Why, that's my comrade, chum, and friend, whom I have so often writtenabout, Willie Armstrong. Come. I will introduce you."

  "Oh! how selfish of me!" cried the widow, starting forward and notwaiting for the introduction; "Mr Armstrong--I'm _so_ sorry; forgiveme! I promised to let you know that your wife waits to meet you at theSoldiers' Institute."

  The difference between darkness and light seemed to pass over thesoldier's face, then a slight shade of anxiety clouded it. "She is notill, is she?"

  "No, no, _quite_ well," said Mrs Milton, with a peculiar smile; "butshe thought it wiser not to risk a meeting on the jetty as the east windis sharp. I'm so sorry I did not tell you at once, but I selfishlythought only--"

  "Pray make no apology, madam," interrupted Armstrong. "I'm so thankfulthat all is well. I had begun to fear that something must be wrong, formy Emmy _never_ disappoints me. If she thinks it wiser not to meet onthe jetty, it _is_ wiser!"

  A crowd of men pushed between them at this moment. Immediately after, afemale shout was heard, followed by the words, "There he is! Och, it'shimsilf--the darlint!"

  Mrs Flynn had discovered the little corporal, and her trooper son,Terence, who had come down with her, stood by to see fair-play while thetwo embraced.

  Drifting with a rather rapid tide of mingled human beings, Miles and hismother soon found themselves stranded beside the coffee-shed. Retiringbehind this they continued their conference there, disturbed only bywind and weather, while the distribution of hot coffee was going on infront.

  Meanwhile, when leave was obtained, Armstrong made his way to theInstitute, where the old scene of bustle and hilarity on the arrival ofa troop-ship was going on. Here, in a private room, he discovered Emmyand the _cause_ of her not appearing on the jetty.

  "Look at him--Willie the second!" cried the little woman, holding up abundle of some sort. The soldier was staggered for a moment--the onlyinfantry that had ever staggered him!--for his wife had said nothingabout this bundle in her letters. He recovered, however, and stridingacross the room embraced the wife and the bundle in one tremendous hug!

  The wife did not object, but the bundle did, and instantly set up a howlthat quite alarmed the father, and was sweetest music in the mother'sears!

  "Now tell me," said the little woman, after calming the baby and puttingit in a crib; "have you brought Miles Milton home all safe?"

  "Yes, all right, Emmy."

  "And is he married to that dear girl you wrote about?"

  "No, not yet--of course."

  "But are they engaged?"

  "No. Miles told me that he would not presume to ask her while he had nohome to offer her."

  "Pooh! He's a goose! He ought to make sure of _her_, and let the homelook after itself. He may lose her. Girls, you know, are changeable,giddy things!"

  "I know nothing of the sort, Emmy."

  The young wife laughed, and--well, there is no need to say what else shedid.

  About the same time, Mrs Milton and her son were seated in anotherprivate room of the Institute finishing off that interchange ofconfidences which had begun in such confusion. As it happened, theywere conversing on the same subject that occupied Emmy and her husband.

  "You have acted rightly, Miles," said the mother, "for it would havebeen unfair and selfish to have induced the poor girl to accept youuntil you had some prospect of a home to give her. God will bless youfor doing _the right_, and trusting to Him. And now, dear boy, are youprepared for bad news?"

  "Prepared for anything!" answered Miles, pressing his mother's hand,"but I hope the bad news does not affect you, mother."

  "It does. Your dear father died a bankrupt. I shrank from telling youthis when you were wounded and ill. So you have to begin again thebattle of life with only one hand, my poor boy, for the annuity I haveof twenty pounds a year will not go far to keep us both."

  Mrs Milton tried to speak lightly on this point, by way of breaking itto her son, but she nearly broke down, for she had already begun to feelthe pinch of extreme poverty, and knew it to be very, very differentfrom what "well-off" people fancy. The grave manner in which her sonreceived this news filled her with anxiety.

  "Mother," he said, after pondering in silence for a few moments, andtaking her hand in his while he slipped the handless arm round herwaist, "the news is indeed serious, but our Father whom you have trustedso long will not fail us now. Happily it is my right hand that has beenspared, and wonders, you know, may be wrought with a strong right hand,especially if assisted by a strong left stump, into which spoons, forks,hooks, and all manner of ingenious contrivances can be fitted. Now,cheer up, little mother, and I'll tell you what we will do. But first,is there _nothing_ left? Do the creditors take everything?"

  "All, I believe, except some of the furniture which has been kindly leftfor us to start afresh with. But we must quit the old home next month.At least, so I am told by my kind little lawyer, who looks aftereverything, for _I_ understand nothing."

  "Your mention of a lawyer reminds me, mother, that a poor sergeant, whodied a short time ago in Egypt, made me his executor, and as I ampainfully ignorant of the duties of an executor I'll go and see this`kind little lawyer' if you will give me his address."

  Leaving Miles to consult his lawyer, we will now turn to a meeting--agrand tea-fight--in the great hall of the Institute, that took place afew days after the return of the troop-ship which brought our hero andhis friends to England. Some telling incidents occurred at this fightwhich render it worthy of notice.

  First, Miss Robinson herself presided and gave a stirring address,which, if not of much interest to readers who did not hear it, was apoint of immense attraction to the hundreds of soldiers, sailors, andcivilians to whom it was delivered, for it was full of sympathy, andinformation, and humour, and encouragement, and, above all, of theGospel.

&
nbsp; Everybody worth mentioning was there--that is, everybody connected withour tale who was in England at the time. Miles and his mother of coursewere there, and Armstrong with Emmy--ay, and with Willie the secondtoo--who was pronounced on all hands to be the born image of his father.Alas for his father, if that had been true! A round piece of doughwith three holes punched in it and a little knot in the midst would haveborne as strong a resemblance to Miles as that baby did. Nevertheless,it was a "magnificent" baby! and "_so_ good," undeniably good, for itslept soundly in its little mother's lap the whole evening!

  Stevenson was also there, you may be sure; and so were Moses andSutherland, and Rattling Bill Simkin and Corporal Flynn, with his motherand Terence the Irish trooper, who fraternised with Johnson the Englishtrooper, who was also home on the sick-list--though he seemed to have amarvellous colour and appetite for a sick man.

  "Is that the `Soldiers Friend?'" asked Simkin, in a whisper, of a manwho stood near him, as a lady came on the platform and took the chair.

  "Ay, that's her," answered the man--and the speaker was Thomas Tufnell,the ex-trooper of the Queen's Bays, and the present manager of theInstitute--"Ay, that's the `Soldier's Friend.'"

  "Well, I might have guessed it," returned Simkin, "from the kindly wayin which she shook hands with a lot of soldiers just now."

  "Yes, she has shook hands with a good many red-coats in her day, has the`Soldier's Friend,'" returned the manager. "Why, I remember on oneoccasion when she was giving a lecture to soldiers, and so many men cameforward to shake hands with her that, as she told me herself, her handwas stiff and swelled all night after it!"

  "But it's not so much for what she has done for ourselves that we'regrateful to her," remarked a corporal, who sat on Simkin's right, "asfor what she has done for our wives, widows, and children, through the_Soldiers' and Sailors' Wives' Aid Association_. Lookin' arter themwhen we're away fightin' our country's battles has endeared her to usmore than anything else."

  Thus favourably predisposed, Simkin was open to good impressions thatnight. But, indeed, there was an atmosphere--a spirit of good-will--inthe hall that night which rendered many others besides Simkin open togood impressions. Among the civilians there was a man named Sloper, whohad for some time past been carefully fished for by an enthusiasticyoung red-coat whom he had basely misled and swindled. He had been atlast hooked by the young red-coat, played, and finally landed in thehall, with his captor beside him to keep him there--for Sloper was aslippery fish, with much of the eel in his nature.

  Perhaps the most unexpected visitors to the hall were two ladies inmourning, who had just arrived from Egypt by way of Brindisi. Mrs andMiss Drew, having occasion to pass through Portsmouth on their way home,learned that there was to be a tea-fight at the Institute, and Marionimmediately said, "I should like _so_ much to see it!"

  However much "_so_ much" was, Mrs Drew said she would like to see it_as_ much, so away they went, and were conducted to the front row.There Miles saw them! With his heart in his mouth, and his head inconfusion, he quietly rose, bade his wondering mother get up; conductedher to the front seat, and, setting her down beside the Drews,introduced them. Then, sitting down beside Marion, he went in for apleasant evening.

  And it _was_ a pleasant evening! Besides preliminary tea and buns,there were speeches, songs, recitations, etcetera,--all being receivedwith immense satisfaction by a crowded house, which had not yet risen tothe unenviable heights of classical taste and _blaseism_. As for Milesand Marion, nothing came amiss to them! If a singer had put B flat inthe place of A natural they would have accepted it as quite natural. Ifa humourist had said the circle was a square, they would have believedit--in a sense--and tried to square their reason accordingly.

  But nothing is without alloy in this life. To the surprise of Miles andhis mother, their "kind little lawyer" also made his appearance in thehall. More than that, he insisted, by signs, that Miles should go outand speak with him. But Miles was obdurate. He was anchored, andnothing but cutting the cable could move him from his anchorage.

  At last the "kind little man" pushed his way through the crowd.

  "I _must_ have a word with you, my dear sir. It is of importance," hesaid.

  Thus adjured, Miles unwillingly cut the cable, and drifted into apassage.

  "My dear sir," said the little man, seizing his hand, "I congratulateyou."

  "You're very kind, but pray, explain why."

  "I find that you are heir to a considerable fortune."

  Miles was somewhat interested in this, and asked, "How's that?"

  "Well, you remember Hardy's will, which you put into my hands a few daysago?"

  "Yes; what then? _That_ can't be the fortune!"

  "Indeed it is. Hardy, you remember, made you his residuary legatee. Ifind, on inquiry, that the old cousin you told me about, who meant toleave all his money to build a hospital, changed his mind at the lastand made out a will in favour of Hardy, who was his only relative. So,you see, you, being Hardy's heir, have come into possession of somethinglike two thousand a year."

  To this Miles replied by a whistle of surprise, and then said, "Is thatall?"

  "Upon my word, sir," said the `kind little lawyer,' in a blaze ofastonishment, "you appear to take this communication in a peculiarmanner!"

  "You mistake me," returned Miles, with a laugh. "I don't mean `is thatall the fortune?' but `is that all you have to say?'"

  "It is, and to my mind I have said a good deal."

  "You certainly have. And, believe me, I am not indifferent orunthankful, but--but--the fact is, that at present I am _particularly_engaged. Good-bye, and thank you."

  So saying, Miles shook the puzzled old gentleman heartily by the hand,and hurried back to his anchorage in the hall.

  "I've done it, mother!" whispered Miles, two days thereafter, in theprivacy of the Institute reading-room.

  "Miles!" said the startled lady, with a reproachful look, "I thought yousaid that nothing would induce you--"

  "Circumstances have altered, mother. I have had a long consultationwith your `kind little lawyer,' and he has related some interestingfacts to me."

  Here followed a detailed account of the facts.

  "So, you see, I went and proposed at once--not to the lawyer--toMarion."

  "And was accepted?"

  "Well--yes. I could hardly believe it at the time. I scarcely believeit now, so I'm going back this afternoon to make quite sure."

  "I congratulate you, my darling boy, for a good wife is God's best giftto man."

  "How do you know she is good, mother?"

  "I know it, because--I know it! Anybody looking in her face can _see_it. And with two thousand a year, why--"

  "One thousand, mother."

  "I thought you said two, my son."

  "So I did. That is the amount of the fortune left by the eccentric oldhospital-for-incurables founder. When poor Hardy made out his will hemade me residuary legatee because the trifle he had to leave--his kit,etcetera,--was not worth dividing between me and Armstrong. If it hadbeen worth much he would have divided it. It is therefore my duty nowto divide it with my friend."

  But in our anxiety to tell you these interesting facts, dear reader, wehave run ahead of the tea-fight! To detail all its incidents, all itsbearings, all its grand issues and blessed influences, would require awhole volume. We return to it only to mention one or two gratifyingfacts.

  It was essentially a temperance--that is, a total-abstinence, ablue-ribbon--meeting, and, at the end, the "Soldiers' Friend" earnestlyinvited all who felt so disposed to come forward and sign the pledge.At the same time, medals and prizes were presented to those among thecivilians who had loyally kept their pledge intact for certain periodsof time. On an average, over a thousand pledges a year are taken at theInstitute, and we cannot help thinking that the year we are writing ofmust have exceeded the average--to judge from the numbers that pressedforward on this particular night.

  There were sol
diers, sailors, and civilians; men, women, and children.Amongst the first, Rattling Bill Simkin walked to the front--his moralcourage restored to an equality with his physical heroism--and put downhis name. So did Johnson and Sutherland--the former as timid before theaudience as he had been plucky before the Soudanese, but walking erect,nevertheless, as men do when conscious that they are in the right; thelatter "as bold as brass"--as if to defy the world in arms to make himever again drink another drop of anything stronger than tea.

  Moses Pyne also "put on the blue," although, to do him justice, herequired no protection of that sort, and so did Corporal Flynn andTerence and their mother--which last, if truth must be told, stood morein need of the pledge than her stout sons.

  Among the civilians several noted personages were influenced in theright direction. Chief among these was sodden, blear-eyed, disreputableSloper, whose trembling hand scrawled a hieroglyphic, supposed torepresent his name, which began indeed with an S, but ended in amysterious prolongation, and was further rendered indecipherable by apenitent tear which fell upon it from the point of his red, red nose!

  Some people laughed, and said that there was no use in getting Sloper toput on the blue-ribbon, that he was an utterly demoralised man, that hehad no strength of character, that no power on earth could save _him_!They were right. No power on earth could save him--or them! Thesepeople forgot that it is not the righteous but sinners who are called torepentance.

  Time passed away and wrought its wonted changes. Among other things, itbrought back to Portsmouth big, burly Jack Molloy, as hearty andvigorous as he was when being half-hanged in the Soudan, but--_minus_ aleg! Poor Jack! a spent cannon-ball--would that it had been spent invain!--removed it, below the knee, much more promptly than it could havebeen taken off by the surgeon's knife. But what was loss to the RoyalNavy was gain to Portsmouth, for Jack Molloy came home and devotedhimself, heart and soul, to the lending of "a helping hand" to hisfellow-creatures in distress--devoting his attentions chiefly to theregion lying round Nobbs Lane, and causing himself to be adoredprincipally by old women and children. And there and thus he probablyworks to this day--at least, some very like him do.

  When not thus engaged he is prone to take a cruise to a certain ruraldistrict in the south of England, where he finds congenial company intwo very tall, erect, moustached, dignified gentlemen, who have atendency to keep step as they walk, one of whom has lost his left hand,and who dwell in two farm-houses close together.

  These two gentlemen have remarkably pretty wives, and wonderfullyboisterous children, and the uproar which these children make whenMolloy comes to cast anchor among them, is stupendous! As for theappearance of the brood, and of Jack after a spree among the hay, theword has yet to be invented which will correctly describe it.

  The two military-looking farmers are spoken of by the people around asphilanthropists. Like true philanthropists, whose foundation-motive islove to God, they do not limit their attentions to their own littleneighbourhood, but allow their sympathies and their benefactions to runriot round the world--wheresoever there is anything that is true,honourable, just, pure, lovely, or of good report to be thought of, ordone, or assisted.

  Only one of these acts of sympathy and benefaction we will mention.Every Christmas there is received by Miss Robinson at the Soldiers'Institute, Portsmouth, a huge hamper full of old and new garments of allkinds--shoes, boots, gowns, frocks, trousers, shawls, comforters,etcetera,--with the words written inside the lid--"Blessed are they thatconsider the poor." And on the same day come two cheques in a letter.We refuse, for the best of all reasons, to divulge the amount of thosecheques, but we consider it no breach of confidence to reveal the factthat the letter containing them is signed by two old and grateful BlueLights.

  THE END.