their walk: but she would abridge his suspense as much as she might. She and Henrietta hastened to the cottages; and there they found their task shortened. Most of the dwellings were empty. Some agents of the Kings—two Royal Commissioners—were in the town; and the women had run thither to tell their tale, and implore the King to send after the pirates, and recover the children. Some of the fishermen on the sands were talking, with scowling brows. Nothing good, they said, would be got out of these gentry, for their errand was a bad one. They were more like pirates themselves than the avengers of piracy. It had lately been said that the King was about to claim, or to authorise claims of, the soil which lay between high and low water, all round Great Britain, and up the tidal rivers. It had been supposed impossible that such a trespass could really be proposed for a moment; but there was no doubt that the Commissioners had been setting surveyors to work to ascertain the tidal limits, and measure and calculate the soil between. A seizure of that soil would affect the rights of so many old inhabitants, and the customs of the river and the shore, that signs of tumult began to appear. It was best to hie home, Lady Carewe thought. Henrietta could not help thinking how much more dutiful it would be to give the King what he asked in the way of supplies than to force him to such methods of obtaining money; but she did not now say this. She had said it very often without convincing anybody,—unless it were Nathanael; and at this moment she saw what reminded her of her new resolution to keep silence on matters of state which were in controversy.
She had seen the crown of a hat above the park-fence as they approached the gate. Harry was among the trees, watching their entrance. A smile from his mother, and the blush on Henrietta’s face, showed him that he might join them.
“Forgive me!” he and Henrietta whispered to each other at the same moment. He drew her arm within his own; and they reached the house in a state of spirits which relieved the heavy anxiety of the brothers and sisters who were on the lookout for them. As Lady Carewe was taking her seat at the breakfast-table, she heard the music she loved best,—the hearty laugh which was natural to Harry, under all but the most dreary circumstances. Henrietta looked mirthful too, when she entered the breakfast-room. She frankly owned afterwards that her folly in making a quarrel about matters which did not offend the King himself, was fair game for any who chose to laugh at it. Harry and she had laughed at themselves and one another, and they must try not to make one another cry any more.
Some of the party, however, looked very grave before breakfast was over. A horseman, well armed, spurred up the lawn, and arrived in a foam at the great door, as the family rushed out upon the steps. It was Simon, Mr. Hampden’s own groom. All was well at home; but Mr. Hampden desired the whole party to return without delay. The coast was not safe, Mr. Hampden’s letter to Lady Carewe declared. He was grieved to spoil the pleasure of the young people: but these were times in which pain and trouble abounded over pleasure; and even the youngest—even his pets, Lucy and Kitty—must learn to bear disappointment with good humour. As for Nathanael, he was as well aware as some older persons that the true manly spirit is cheerful under vexations.
This was admitted to be true; and the children behaved heroically about leaving the sea and the ruins almost before they had begun to enjoy them: but they told one another privately that they thought it very hard that they should have this particular disappointment to bear. They were always willing, or tried to be so, to endure affliction: but then they could not have imagined such a thing as being obliged to leave the beach and the rocks before they had had any play there. If it had but been any other trial!
OUR RAW RECRUITS.
The proportion of men who actually fall in battle is inconsiderable compared with the number of those who sink under the toil of drill and the fatigues of forced marches. The mortality amongst our raw recruits—the one or two year old soldiers, if we may so term them—is enormous. Even of that vast multitude which passes muster under the surgeon’s hands, hundreds break down during the process of seasoning, and are obliged at the end of twelve months or so to be dismissed the service. Those who are a little hardier bear up manfully, and by dint of painful patience and perseverance, become firm and sprightly-looking soldiers, the pride of the paternal colour-sergeant, and on parade and at a review they look wonderfully fine fellows.
But send these men away on foreign service, let them encounter a campaign or two, and be brought face to face with harassing marches, with the toil of actual warfare, with the fury of the elements, heat and cold, frost and sun, and the muster roll shows a rapid diminution, even before a shot has been fired or bayonet crossed bayonet. Why is this? It is simply that the physique of the majority of the men is incapable of bearing up against the insidious and lethal attacks of fatigue;—the trials to which their strength is put are overpowering for them. With all the courage and ardour in the world, they are stricken down like children by exhaustion and disease.
The cause of this unsound state of things, however, is well ascertained: our regiments are composed too extensively of immature youths. “Wanted, a few fine growing young men, about eighteen years of age and five feet ten inches in height!” How often may such a notice be seen any day placarded on the walls of the Horse Guards, or outside the tavern which the recruiting sergeant has converted into his head-quarters. Eighteen years of age and five feet ten in height! What do these figures represent? Taken together they can refer only to a raw lad run up like a bean stalk, whose frame is as yet undeveloped, and who must be deficient in that stamina which is requisite to bear even the minor fatigues of even a monotonous and incessant drill. In time of war the ranks composed of such feeble material