we turn now to a battlefield, but we won’t affect to believe that the reader does not know who is one of the chief heroes of that field.

robert thorogood is his name. bob does not look very heroic, however, when we introduce him, for he is sound asleep with his mouth open, his legs sprawling, his eyes tight shut, his bed the ground, his pillow the root of a tree, and his curtains the branches thereof. the only warlike point about bob is the trumpet-sound that issues from his upturned nose.

bob’s sentiments about soldiering are queer. his comrades laugh at him a good deal about them, but they never scoff, for bob is strong and full of fire; besides he is a pattern of promptitude and obedience, so they respect him. moreover, he is a kindly and jovial man, therefore they are fond of him.

the battlefield of which we write was in the east. the fight had been between the british and russians. the british had been victorious, and slept on the field.

when the bugles sounded the next morning they stopped the nasal trumpets everywhere, and corporal robert thorogood was the first man of all the host to “fall in”—which he did by himself. but he was not long alone; others quickly joined him.

the companies were soon numbered, proved, formed into column, and marched off. then there was a short halt for breakfast.

“why, you’re not half a soldier, bob,” said a hearty young comrade, while hastily eating his rations. “i saw you spare a russian officer yesterday after he had cut off the little finger of your left hand.”

“what good would it have done to have killed him?” asked bob, with a smile, as he looked at the bloody stump, which had just been dressed by the surgeon; “the poor fellow’s leg was broken by a bullet the moment after he had done it, so he could do us no more harm in this campaign. then, his death would not make my little finger grow on again. besides, i don’t like killing men.”

“why did you join the army, then, if you did not do so for the honour and glory of fighting, (which means killing), our enemies?”

“ah, you may ask that indeed! i mistook my profession, i suppose. however, i’ll do my duty while i remain in the service.”

as he spoke, firing was heard in the distance, and the men were ordered to fall in hastily before breakfast had been quite finished.

the firing increased, and soon the advance guard was seen falling back in good order over the brow of a small hill or slope. rifle balls began to fly overhead, and a few to drop unpleasantly near the troops. suddenly our corporal was startled by an appalling cry behind him. he turned quickly, and saw the young soldier with whom he had been so recently conversing lying on his back stone dead, with the blood oozing from a hole between his eyes.

there was no time to think, however. his battalion was ordered to the front to defend a narrow rocky pass which the enemy were attempting to carry by storm. twice already they had made the assault, and had almost succeeded on the second attempt. a third assault was being made when thorogood’s company came up. they rushed forward just as the russians crowned the heights and were driving the british back. the reinforcements checked them, but did not turn the scale at first.

there was one gigantic russian who stood towering above his fellows with clubbed rifle, furiously knocking down all who came within his reach, like horatius or one of the other heroes of ancient rome. at him corporal thorogood sprang, grasping his rifle by the muzzle as he ran, and whirling it on high. the russian saw him coming. the two rifles met with a crash, and flew into splinters. bob dropped his weapon, grasped his adversary by the throat, thrust him back, and bore him headlong to the ground. this incident turned the scale. a cheer followed. the british swept forward with such irresistible fury that the men in front were thrust upon the foe in a mass, bob and his enemy being turned heels over head in the rush. a well-sustained fire scattered the foe like chaff, and those who had been thrown down were taken prisoners. among them was the gigantic russian, with the corporal still holding his collar tight in his iron grasp.

“well done, my man!” said the colonel of the regiment as he rode past bob.

the colonel was a man of few words. he said no more on that occasion, but every one knew that he would not forget the man who had so bravely turned the tide of battle that day.

bob, however, did not escape altogether unhurt. he had been rather severely wounded, and afterwards had to spend a considerable time in hospital. as his wound did not prevent him from moving about, he soon became a valuable assistant to the surgeons and nurses in the hospital.

“ah!” said he one night, when smoothing the pillow and attending to the wants of a severely wounded soldier, “this comes more natural to me. it suits me better than fighting.”

“i wish you were one of the regular nurses, corporal,” said one of the surgeons heartily; “you do everything so thoroughly, and with such a will.”

but bob was not allowed to remain long at his peaceful work. being a healthy and temperate man he soon recovered, and ere long found himself in the trenches before sebastopol.

it was winter. one bleak, raw morning, just before daybreak, bob plodded down with his party through slush and mud to take his turn of fighting before the great fortress. it was bitterly cold and dark. some of the men were grumbling terribly.

“ah, then, won’t you shut your ’tatie traps?” said a big irishman, who had won the victoria cross the week before for conspicuous gallantry.

“we engaged for this sort o’ work, lads, when we ’listed,” remarked bob, “an’ are paid for it; so let’s stick to our bargain wi’ the queen, an’ do our duty well.”

“troth, that’s well said,” remarked the irishman. “‘what’s worth doin’ at all is worth doin’ well,’ as my ould grandmother used to say when she whacked me.”

there was a faint laugh at this, and the grumbling ceased.

“come, corporal free,” said bob, “as we’ve got to sit here till morning you’d better tell us one of your far-famed stories to make the time pass pleasantly—at least as pleasantly as circumstances will allow.”

“ay, jacob free,” cried the irishman, “that’s well said. give us that one about yoursilf whin ye was a schoolboy. a good story, you know, is niver a bit the worse o’ bein’ twice towld.”

“hear! hear!” cried bob, “come along now, corporal, an’ give us the schoolboy’s story.”

corporal jacob free, who was a gentlemanly man, somewhat advanced in years, said he would rather tell about some one else than himself, but this only made his comrades more determined.

“well, then,” said he, at last, “since you will have it, i’ll give you what bob thorogood has named:— the schoolboy’s story.

“it was with an intense hatred of lessons and books that i began my school-days. not an unusual experience, i believe, with boys. my parents were poor—though i have every reason to conclude that they were scrupulously honest; hence i began my school career rather late in life—at about twelve years of age. but previously to that, my much-loved, much-abused, and long-suffering mother had taught me to read and write, so that my brain was not altogether unfurnished when i went to school.

“it was a village school, in a remote district of scotland; the master was a tall, thin, cadaverous and kindly man, of considerable attainments, and with a strong affection for boys. had it been otherwise he must have died younger—of a broken heart. i loved that man—but i worried him. a pang of toothache-like remorse shoots through me still when i think of the sorrows i caused that good man, but the pang is mitigated by the reflection that i lived to make amends to him.

“i liked the school-days well enough at first; chiefly because i devoted myself entirely to play and refused work. besides, there was something amusing in the novelty of the thing, and there was much interest in the mischief that could be done in school; also in the deeds of daring and violence that could be done out of it, with the able assistance of a score or so of boys of almost every age and size. but the liking moderated with experience, especially when the master, having tried every method of encouragement and persuasion in vain, adopted the trying method of keeping me in during play-hours. to escape this punishment i tried to learn a little.

“i was a bully when i went to school, being big and strong for my age. i mention the fact with shame, but it is some satisfaction to be able to add that i was not a bully when i left it. my chief enemy, and, afterwards, dearest friend, saved me from that state. he and i were the biggest and strongest boys in the school. his name was tom turner.

“in nearly all respects turner and i were opposites. he was clever and studious; i stupid and idle. he was gentle and kind—especially to little boys; i rough and disobliging. he was usually dux, i invariably booby.

“‘you shouldn’t be so hard on little spinks,’ he said to me in a quiet way, one day in the playground, ‘he can’t defend himself, you know.’

“‘you let me an’ little spinks alone,’ i replied angrily, yet with some hesitation, for i did not feel quite sure that i could thrash turner. i expected a sharp rejoinder, but he merely smiled and turned away.

“from that date i set tom turner down as a coward, and worried spinks more than ever, just to spite him.

“one day i had been harder than usual on little spinks, who was a mere human spider—all legs and arms, with a roundish body—when tom called me aside and quietly began to lecture me, just as if he had been a grown-up man. i kept down my indignation at first, having made up my mind to have a quarrel with him, but the amiable tone of his voice subdued me.

“‘you should consider, jacob,’ he went on, taking no notice of my flushed face and angry frown, ‘what a poor little squirrel of a thing spinks is, and what a great powerful fellow you are. it’s not fair, you know, and he’s a kindly, harmless sort of a fellow too. besides, if his poor mother knew how you treat him it would almost break her heart, for she’s very delicate, and he is her only child. you know i visited her last year, on my way from london, in passing the village where she lives. you’ve been there, haven’t you?’

“‘no,’ i replied sulkily.

“‘oh, man, jacob! you would enjoy a visit to spinks’s home,’ returned tom, still taking no notice of my state of mind, ‘it’s such a splendid place for trout-fishing, with a burn full of the deep oily pools you are so fond of, and lots of sea-trout; and mrs spinks is so kind and jolly—though so delicate; just like little spinks himself, but of course a good deal larger.’

“from this point turner went on to describe his visit in such a cheery way, that i was forced into a better state of mind, though i did not forgive him for lecturing me.

“it chanced that i received a lecture also, the same evening, from our master.

“‘jacob, my boy,’ he said, laying his large hand gently on my head, ‘you ought to give more attention to your studies, and try to be a better boy. you’ve got the elements of a smart man in you, but a man must be made, jacob. if a lad grows up without any self-training he is generally fit for nothing, and only a trouble to society. you’re fond of your mother, i think—are you not?’

“‘yes, sir,’ said i, in some surprise at the question.

“‘then you would be sorry to give her pain, i know, and your present course of conduct is sure to do that if you don’t mend. you would be sorry to see your mother take handfuls of her small income and fling it into the sea, would you not?’

“‘of course i would, sir,’ said i, still more surprised.

“‘well, you have caused her to do that, for your school fees might as well have been flung away for all the good you have done hitherto. but come, i’ll say no more just now. i feel sure you will try to do better. you have only got to try, asking god to help you, and you’re certain to succeed. i expect to be proud of you yet, jacob. there, be off and play.’

“i was somewhat touched by this brief reproof, but not humbled. the lecturing tone assumed by turner still rankled, and a feeling that i deserved severer treatment than i received, made me worse. i resolved to harden my heart; and from that date became more mischievous and domineering as well as idle—if possible. i saw that the master was grieved, but did not care.

“one day in autumn, some of us were sitting on a rail swinging our legs and chatting. turner was not there, but little spinks was.

“‘i tell you what,’ said i, referring to a remark made by one of the boys, ‘i think it is not only contemptible to try to learn one’s lessons, but ridiculous.’

“‘i’d rather learn them than get whacked,’ said one.

“‘well, i would rather get whacked than learn them,’ said i; ‘besides, of what earthly use are latin and greek, i should like to know?’

“‘fellows can’t get along in the learned professions without them,’ said a boy whom we named tiddler. he was a follower of turner, and usually kept pretty near him in the class.

“‘very true,’ said i, with a look of mock respect; ‘but as none of us intend to enter the learned professions except doctor tiddler and professor turner, we don’t want latin or greek; what we want is fun.’

“‘hear! hear!’ burst from spinks, who was an impressionable little fellow, and easily influenced for good or evil. his exclamation was so genuine and heartfelt that there was a general laugh, and one of the boys suggested that, as little spinks did not mean to go in for any of the learned professions, they should elect him ‘professor of fun.’ this was unanimously agreed to.

“‘but, come,’ said i, jumping down, ‘we must not spend all the evening here idling. what shall we do?’

“‘go an’ study greek,’ said the newly-elected professor of fun; a suggestion which was received with a shout of derisive laughter.

“‘i should like to have some of old maggie’s apples for supper,’ said i.

“‘but who’s to crib them?’ asked a large-headed boy, whose appearance reminded one of a tadpole.

“‘little spinks, of course,’ said i. ‘come, be off—and be sure that you take good ones. i’ll follow, and watch to see that no mischief happens to you.’

“‘it’s a shame to rob the poor old woman,’ said tiddler. ‘i’ll have nothing to do with it. i’m sure that tom turner would object if he were here.’

“‘oh! you needn’t come if you’re afraid,’ said i, with a sneer; ‘and if there are any other cowardly turnerites here, they may join you. whoever has got pluck will follow the frees. lead on, spinks!’

“the greater number of the boys followed me; and from that date the school was divided into two sections—turnerites and frees.

“we went straight to the back wall of old maggie’s garden, and i helped little spinks over, desiring him to gather a capful and fetch them, and then he could return for more if thought desirable.

“my enemy turner was fond of old maggie, and frequently went to see her and have a chat. it chanced that he was visiting her on the evening we had decided to steal her apples. while sitting beside her, listening as earnestly to a prolonged and graphic account of the old woman’s troubles as if he had been the minister of the parish, he chanced to look out of the window, and saw a boy descending one of the apple-trees. one of old maggie’s troubles was the stealing of her apples by village boys. she had dilated extensively on the subject and aroused her friend’s anger. with a burst of indignation, he rushed out, and caught little spinks in the act of making off with his second capful of apples.

“‘what! spinks? i should not have expected this of you,’ said tom, releasing my little victim.

“‘i didn’t want to do it,’ whimpered spinks; ‘but i couldn’t help it. i—’

“‘yes, yes; i understand. who was it that set you on?’

“‘please, i don’t want to tell.’

“i am convinced that brave little spinks would have refused to tell to the end of the chapter, but i saved him further trouble. wondering, as i stood behind the wall, what kept him so long, i shouted, ‘come along, spinks; look sharp!’

“‘oh! i know now who did it,’ said turner. ‘go, my boy. i’ll relieve you of the apples.’

“so saying, he carried the apples to the owner, and spinks came and told me what had occurred.

“‘i’ll thrash tom turner for this,’ i said bitterly, as we returned to the school.

“for some time past i had made up my mind to fight him. on several occasions i had proved myself to be possessed of a little more bodily strength than tom; and as regarded endurance and pluck, i felt quite at ease on these points.

“opportunity soon offered. one day i was up a tree, bird-nesting, in one of the lanes near our school. i had flung down my books at the foot of the tree before climbing it. just as i laid hands on the nest, in which there were four eggs, i heard voices below, and looking down, observed turner, tiddler, and tadpole passing.

“‘i wonder what careless fellow has flung down his books in that fashion,’ said tom.

“‘i am the careless fellow!’ i shouted. at the same time i flung the nest straight into his upturned face. the result was better than i had expected; for it hit him fair, and the four eggs, bursting on his forehead, poured over his eyes and nose.

“this was received with a shout of laughter by the other boys. i leaped to the ground, strode up to tom with doubled fists, and asked if he would fight me.

“‘not if i can help it,’ said tom, quietly wiping his face.

“amazed at his forbearance i scarce knew how to act. at last i said, sneeringly, ‘i never quite believed you to be a coward until to-day.’

“‘whether i’m a coward or not is, perhaps, doubtful; but i came under a promise not to quarrel with you if i could avoid it, and you see, jacob, i’m trying to keep my promise, though it’s not easy.’

“‘perhaps that will make it less easy,’ i said, suddenly fetching him what was meant to be a slap in the face; but by a prompt withdrawal of his head he let my hand pass. instantly i fetched him another slap with the left hand, but he caught my wrist, and stopped it.

“‘come, jacob,’ said he, in a rather stern voice, ‘i will fight you, but it must be done in the regular way, on the green.’

“satisfied with this, i left him, to prepare for the encounter.

“the green was a level piece of turf close to school, beside a stream, which, at that place, was formed into a deep pool by means of a mill-dam. we had named the pool the black hole. it was the scene of all our school fights. in class that day i was unusually quiet, for i could not help thinking of the impending fight. i felt that it would be a hard one, though i never for a moment doubted the result. to keep my mind off the subject i applied myself to my lessons, and acquitted myself in a way that gratified the master and amazed the boys.

“the fight was to come off after school hours. the boys assembled with high expectations, something unusually ‘stiff’ being anticipated, and they were not disappointed.

“i was on the ground with my friends and backers before my adversary appeared.

“‘don’t make too much of a burst at first,’ said one boy; ‘play with him till you see what he’s made of.’

“‘i’d advise you to go in for sloggin’,’ said another.

“‘yes, knock the wind out of him at once,’ said tadpole; ‘he’s an english fellow, you know, and may bother you with science.’

“as he spoke tom appeared. he walked smartly towards me, with his usual pleasant smile on his face, and held out his hand.

“‘come, jacob,’ he said, ‘shake hands, and let us give up this affair. why should we fight? i am quite willing to admit that you are cock of the school, and have no desire to give or receive black eyes. besides, you injured me more than i injured you, so that you’ve no occasion to bear malice.’

“‘you called me a careless fellow,’ said i, hardening myself, and looking fierce.

“‘well; but i did not know at the time that you were the owner of the books.’

“‘no matter, you came here to fight, and so did i. don’t let us waste more words.’

“‘truly he suffereth long,’ cried one of the boys, with a sneer and a laugh, quoting from the bible, which, it was well known, tom turner read daily.

“‘i am taught,’ said tom, turning gravely to the last speaker, ‘as far as lies in me, to live peaceably with all men. i have tried to do this, and find it impossible to live peaceably with jacob free—therefore—’

“he stopped, pulled off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and threw himself into the pugilistic attitude.

“we did not trouble ourselves about ceremony in that school. we had neither seconds, bottles, nor sponges. i went at him at once, and, remembering the advice of tadpole, made a tremendous blow at his face. tom scarcely moved a muscle; he merely put his head a little to one side and let the blow pass. like lightning i delivered my left. tom let it pass in the same way. surprised and maddened i sent in another blow, lunging to my full extent. he merely drew back from the waist and the blow fell short. at the same moment i received a tap on the bridge of my nose which raised a host of stars in my imagination. in short, i found myself at the mercy of a well-trained boxer. perceiving this i grew desperate, and sprang at my adversary with the intention of grappling him, but he stepped lightly to one side and i shot past him. this would have been a trifling matter had we not edged rather near to the river. in my blind rage i went head-foremost into the deep pool, already mentioned as the black hole. i could not swim. i rose with a gurgling cry and sank again. turner knew that i was drowning. he was a splendid swimmer, and instantly sprang in and caught me, but i seized him round the neck and dragged him under, while the boys shouted in consternation on the bank.

“their cries soon brought assistance, but, ere it arrived, we had been sucked within the influence of the dam where the stream went under the sluice with great violence. as we struck against the sluice i caught it. turner held on to me, but was dragged partially under. another moment and two powerful countrymen had hold of me, and pulled me out. they had more difficulty with turner. his right leg had got entangled, and, in dragging him forcibly out, they broke it.

“this event was the great turning-point in my schoolboy life. remorse began to tell upon me while they carried him home, but words cannot describe the agony of my mind when, a fortnight afterwards, i was admitted to his room and saw him lying, a mere wreck of his former self, but with the old kindly smile on his face, as he stretched out his thin hand.

“‘we’ll be friends now, jacob, won’t we?’ he said, with a twinkle in his eye.

“i could not speak. the thought that i had brought him to this in spite of his desire to be friendly, overwhelmed me. i could only seize his hand, bury my face in the bed-clothes, and sob.

“‘never mind, jacob,’ he said cheerily; ‘i shall be all right soon, and then we shall have the fight out—a little further from the black hole!’

“but tom turner did not get all right soon. he became worse and worse. the wetting and the accident combined to throw him into a fever, which left him to all appearance a confirmed invalid and a cripple, so that he was obliged to give up all idea of returning to school.

“‘i would not mind it so much,’ he said to me, some months afterwards, with a feeble effort to be cheery, ‘if it had not stopped my going to school. you see, i had set my heart on being a learned man, and one has not much chance of being that without a teacher. but god’s will be done. i don’t grumble, jacob, though i can’t help wishing very hard that it had been otherwise.’

“i formed a great resolve while he was speaking, but said no word about it. i determined to apply myself, heart and soul, to study, until i should not only reach but pass the point where tom had left off, and then i would become his teacher, carrying him on, step by step, as i advanced!

“to make a long story short—i carried out my resolution. it was harder work than i had expected, but i persevered. my love for turner had become intense. i felt like a high-pressure engine with extra steam on and the safety-valve screwed down. the amazement of the boys at the change in me may be imagined. the satisfaction of the master cannot be imagined. i took no notice of either condition, but held on my way. soon i came up to tom in learning; then shot past him; then revealed my designs and took him in tow.

“tom was charmed with the plan and inexpressibly grateful. when little spinks came to hear of it, he begged to be allowed to study along with us in the sick-room. we agreed to this. then dr tiddler was admitted, and afterwards the tadpole; so that our evening class flourished.

“but the best of it was, that tom did not become a confirmed invalid. a new doctor, who came to live in our village, seemed to understand his case better than the old one. at all events he effected an almost perfect cure, so that tom’s limp became scarcely perceptible, and his general strength was so much restored, that he and i afterwards had many long geological and botanical rambles over the surrounding country, in company with little spinks and the rest of the evening class.

“and this was no mere flash in the pan. we persevered to the end. from the date of that fight all the boys became turnerites, our village school commenced a prosperous career, and our kind old master had the satisfaction of living to see it grow into one of the most noted in the district for turning out well-educated boys.

“finally: tom turner became a real ‘professor’—a professor of theology. and tiddler became a real doctor of medicine. the tadpole also came off with flying colours. his body grew up to his head, insomuch that he became a fine strapping fellow, and a professor of natural history in one of our colonial colleges. i am the only one of the lot who did not get on well in life, and that, lads, was owing to drink. in a drunken spree i enlisted, and here i am now, only a corporal; but, thank god, i’m also a total abstainer, and hope to remain so to the end of my life.”

most of the men in the trenches had become rather sleepy while listening to jacob free’s story, but they began to freshen up a little when the first faint streaks of dawn appeared, for they knew full well that the enemy would be stirring ere long. and they were right.

when day broke the russians commenced firing, and every now and then a shell would pass roaring over the men’s heads. sometimes one would drop in amongst them. when this happened the men fled right and left, or threw themselves flat on their faces until the shell had exploded.

on one of these occasions a shell dropped close to a wounded man, to whom bob was giving a drink at the time. the men near it sprang away or lay down as usual, but the wounded man lay in such a position, with his shoulders raised by a little knoll of earth, that he could not escape, and had not strength even to move. with a look of horror he gazed at the hissing shell. bob thorogood saw this all at a glance. in a moment he had the live shell in his arms, rushed to the top of the earthworks, and hurled it over, only just in time, for it burst as it reached the ground, and blew the spot on which bob stood, with bob himself, back into the trenches, where the big irishman received him in his arms.

“not hurt, darlin’, are ye?” he asked anxiously.

“no, thank god, only shaken a bit,” answered the corporal.

next day, however, our hero was not so fortunate, although he gained a reward for which many of his comrades panted.

he was on duty at the time in the trenches. the russians had been pretty quiet that night, but just before daybreak they made a sortie in considerable force. our corporal’s company had to bear the brunt of the fighting, and suffered much. it was broad daylight before the russians were driven back. some of the more fiery men of the company pursued them too far, and were cut off. at last all the survivors returned to the trenches, and then the enemy commenced a furious cannonade, as if to revenge themselves for the repulse. their sharpshooters, too, were on the alert, and if a man chanced to show the top of his shako above the earthworks, several bullets went through it instantly.

among those who had fallen on the exposed ground outside was a young officer—almost a boy, with fair curling hair and a soft little moustache.

he lay severely wounded under the frail protection of a bush round which shot and shell were raining fearfully. corporal thorogood observed him, leaped over the earthworks, ran through the iron storm, raised the youth in his strong arms, and brought him under cover in safety. the corporal’s shako was riddled, and his clothes were torn in all directions, but nothing had touched his body save one bullet, which cut off the forefinger of his right hand.

for this gallant deed corporal robert thorogood afterwards received the victoria cross. what pleased him far more, however, was the fact that the young officer’s life was saved, and he ultimately recovered from his wounds.

“ah, then,” said the big irishman, with a look of pity when bob showed him his bleeding hand, “your sodgerin’ days is over, me boy.”

and so they were. at the close of the war our corporal retired from the service with a small pension, leaving two fingers behind him!