SOLDIERS OP THE QUEEN.
IT is a small, insignificant corner numbering some fifty houses, thatched cottages most of them, that, bent with age, battered by the sweeping south-west gales, straggle in
loose order towards the stream like a file of ungainly ducks. In summer, before the sickle has touched the ripened grain,
the village, with its clustering orchards and lush green meadows, looks like an emerald set in gold ; around it stretches on every side a sea of yellow corn, studded here and there with patches of woodland that rise dark and motionless above the quivering, undulating waves. A delicate blue haze veils the landscape, over which a slumberous still- ness broods ; the song of the lark growing fainter and more faint as he soars upward into the clear heavens ; the corn- orake's harsh cry ; the rustle of the slender stalks that bend beneath the wind's light caress,—the silence is broken by such sounds as these, or by the subdued whistle of the distant locomotive, which, with its suggestion of a world of toiling cities and crowded marts, serves but to enhance the idyllic repose of this remote corner. If this impression of aloofness be thus apparent in summer, it is doubly so in winter, when the trees, stripped of their glory, stretch gaunt, appealing arms to the leaden sky. For a brief moment the sun flushes the bare brown fields with a transient glow before sinking behind the western coppice, and the gleam of light has scarcely faded when, from its lurking-place by the stream a white mist rises, creeping higher, higher, till it blots out skeleton woods and dreary uplands, and brings the horizon down to within a few yards of the cottage-doors. Slowly the cows drop homeward one by one from their pastures in the vale; children returning from school seek the warm shelter of the fireside, and the street is deserted, save for a passing labourer who splashes wearily through the mud amid the softly falling dusk. How desolate, how forlorn does the village now appear ; how cut off from all ties with the rest of the Empire of which it forms such an infinitesimal part. But a bright spot of colour looms against the sombre background : a soldier strides jauntily down the road, and the horizon that a moment since was so narrow, now embraces half the globe. What a crowd of undying memories the sight of that one scarlet tunic evokes : what a vast shadowy host it conjures up of nameless heroes who have planted the British flag in every quarter of the world and watered it with their blood. Nor has our corner been behindhand in this work. Far and wide her sons have gone to fight for Queen and country; some of them have come back to live out the remainder of their days in the old home, others stayed behind "over there," in the 6 ft. strip of foreign soil which they purchased with their lives and bequeathed to the Empire,—it is rich in such legacies. Among the former is a Crimean veteran who is tranquilly awaiting "Last Post" and "Lights Ont." The great event of his later years was the Jubilee Parade of Veterans at Chelsea Hospital, when he formed one of the long line in which "every breast was shinin' wi.h honour," to quote his own words. Nothing delights him more than to fight his battles over again to an appreciative listener, and to air his views on the Army and its officers :—" We wur in Ireland when the war with Roosia bruk out; orders come down from the War Office to make up the rig'ment to its fightin' strength as quick as med be, so our sergeants went into the streets o' Dublin an' swep' in the men like tea-leaves off the floor. In they brought 'un, any they could get, put 'an in a bath, an' sent 'un afore the doctor, who passed 'un whether they wur fit or no. What did it matter to 'e if 'nn died, so long as the rig'ment had its number ? Blesh you, we wur fall o' sich green stuff ; an' they did die, too,—like so many flies when we got to the Crimeer : an old so'jer can forage for 'isself, 'ee knew, bat the young 'uns ain't good for nothing. Oh, yes, I had plenty o' fightin', but I often wished as I could ha' read all about they battles fair an' plain in the newspapers ; folks a-twhoam knew a sight more about 'em than we as wur in 'em. Ye see there's the supernu'mary rank behind an' the non-commissioned orficers to look arter you, an' all as you've got to do is to go straight forrard an' kill. It soundes simple enuff, but, blesh you, 'tain't so simple when you comes to do't. The Roosians wur bad to fight, for they bayoneted the wounded, which wurn't fair, 'cause a man ceases to be an enemy when 'e's lyin' on the ground. I wur in the trenches afore Sebastopol till I got the dy-sentry, then I war sent down to Scutari, which wurn't so bad if you could move your arms or walk about; but to lie, as I seed some poor chaps, wi'out the strength so much as to lift a finger to knock away the flies hangin' round their eyes, an' nose, an' lips,—ah 1 that wur crool, worse nor any fightin'. Our Colonel as brought us out o' the Crimeer was a nice man,—we wur just like his childern. Not all the orficers is like him ; some on 'em is so strict, they ty-rannizes over the men. Spwose you've just pipe-clayed your belt an' hung it up ready for p'rade an' a speck of dust gets on it; in comes the orficer, puts his glass to his eye, an' that there glass magnifies that speck till 'tis as big as a door-knob. 'Sergeant,' sez 'ee, 'that man is dirty ; put his name down.' That kind o' thing puts a man in a trumble, makes 'un disheartened ; it don't do to ty-rannize; you can lead the men anywhere, but they wun't be dray?
As is natural, the veteran who served his twenty-one years regards with contemptuous pity the short-service soldier of to-day. " I wur in my prime when I'd ha' bin eight'ears in the Army," be is wont to remark, " bat these young fellers listes at seventeen, an' when they're gettin' to be men out they has to come." This practice of overstating their age is in truth much more frequent among recruits than the authorities are aware of. It is a common occurrence to hear a mother observe d propos of her soldier-son " He'd just turned his seventeen when he 'listed, but he guy his age as eighteen." The trans- formation wrought in these smooth-faced striplings by a few months at the depot or with the regiment is very striking, At the first visit home, paid usually a week or so after enlistment in order "to show himself in his clothes," he is merely a shambling ploughboy put into a uniform of which he is inordinately proud and awkwardlyeon scions. A year passes, and he comes back on furlough trim, smart, with head erect and shoulders squared to meet the world. As a rule he is quiet, steady, and self-respecting, more proud than ever of the coat he wears, and convinced that the regiment to which he belongs is the finest in the service. The scarlet tunic makes a pleasant spot of colour in the wintry landscape and lights up the little white-washed church, where not in- frequently two red coats may be seen among the black, their owners, with heads close together, looking over one book and joining in the singing with the full power of their vigorous lunge. These village lads enlist from a variety of reasons. Some go because their fathers before them were soldiers; others because work is scarce, or they are tired of "follerin' the plough-tail "; others again, from pure love of fighting. " I likes to year about the blo-ud," remarked one youth when reading a letter from his brother in India, in which the writer described his experiences of a sharp action during the late frontier campaign ; " I likes to year about the blo-ud; meks I feel a-sif I'd like to have a shot at they black fellers myself," and he straightway went off and enlisted into the home battalion of his brother's regiment. Another boy took the Queen's shilling because he was " grizzled at " by his foreman. The distracted mother of this would-be warrior followed him to
the barrack. and offered to buy him out, for she had already sent two sons to India, and could ill afford to lose the wages of a third. His reply to her tearful entreaties was that he " wouldn't go back to the plough-tail not fur wotever ; " he "liked sojerin' "—he had then been at it one day!—" an' a soler be meant to be." This took place some two years ago, but he likes it still ; indeed they all do. " We are in the Khyber Pass," wrote one during the war, and are as happy as little larks." " I did not much care for the bullets at first," said another, "but now I'm usted to them, and loves the fightin' proper." A third wrote to his mother that "those black 'eathings have a dam cheek, they fires at we, and don' run away wen we fires at they." Not letters only, but photo- graphs of the scenery and beautiful Indian shawls and table- cloths find their way across the sea to the village ; socks, too, for little brothers at home, guernseys, vests, stockings, and shawls knitted by rough but loving hands among the wild mountains of the Khyber, attest the warmth of these soldier- lads' affection. " Ah, he's more comfort to me than all the t'other childern put together," said one mother, as she related how two pounds sterling bad reached her from the camp at Lundi Kotal; "he never writes, doesn't Harry, wi'ont puttin' summat in his letters."
That the Army is not regarded by the villagers as the refuge of ne'er-do-weels and black sheep is clear enough. This is in a great measure owing to the influence of a neighbouring Peer, who, himself a retired officer of distinction, is deeply interested in all that concerns the soldier's welfare, and ever ready to provide employment for reservists. Thus the young recruit enlists with the pleasant assurance that when his time with the colours expires he has but to return to his native village to find work and a friendly welcome. The autumn cavalry manceuvres that were held for three successive years in this district also contributed not a little to the popularity which the Queen's uniform here enjoys. The country folk had then the opportunity of observing soldiers en masse, and found them to be, not the idle, dissolute set they are conven- tionally represented, but a quiet, orderly body of men, who work hard and play equally bard; who exercise, as a rule, a moderation in their speech which appeals strongly to the bucolic intelligence, presumably for the reason that we admire in others the quality in which we are most deficient ourselves. The new regulation with regard to pay appears to find general favour with the men, and there is little doubt that it will attract a better class of recruits. Privates with whom the writer has come into contact unanimously declare that they prefer to have the extra money when in the Army rather than on leaving. The lump sum of deferred pay was at best a dubious blessing ; frequently the greater part found its way with astonishing rapidity to the pockets of the local publican, as much as forty pounds being sometimes squandered in the course of a few weeks by one man. Nor was this the only evil effect of the old system. Many a smart soldier with a clean sheet, who, under different circumstances, would have gladly extended his period of service with the colours, has been known to refuse to do so, solely because he was unable to resist the temptation presented by the prospect of handling what is often, with deferred pay added to savings, a really large sum of money.
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