Description
OUT of a window of the Weissen Ross, at Coblentz, looking upon the rapid Rhine, over whose circling eddies a rich sunset shed a golden tint, two young Englishmen lounged and smoked their cigars; rarely speaking, and, to all seeming, wearing that air of boredom which, strangely enough, would appear peculiar to a very enjoyable time of life. They were acquaintances of only a few days. They had met on an Antwerp steamer-rejoined each other in a picture-gallery-chanced to be side by side at a table d'hôte at Brussels, and, at last, drifted into one of those intimacies which, to very young men, represents friendship. They agreed they would travel together, all the more readily that neither cared very much in what direction. As for me, said Calvert, it doesn't much signify where I pass the interval; but, in October, I must return to India and join my regiment. And I, said Loyd, about the same time must be in England. I have just been called to the bar. Slow work that must be, I take it. Do you like soldiering? asked Loyd, in a low quiet voice. Hate it! abhor it! It's all very well when you join first You are so glad to be free of Woolwich or Sandhurst, or wherever it is. You are eager to be treated like a man, and so full of Cox and Greenwood, and the army tailor, and your camp furniture, and then comes the dépôt and the mess. One's first three months at mess seemed to be the cream of existence. Is it really so jolly? Are the fellows good talkers?
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