The very image and presentment of a Corporal of his country's
army, in the line of his shoulders, the line of his waist, the broadest
line of his Bloomer trousers, and their narrowest line at the calf of his
leg.
Mr. The Englishman looked on, and the child looked on, and the Corporal
looked on (but the last-named at his men), until the drill ended a few
minutes afterwards, and the military sprinkling dried up directly, and
was gone. Then said Mr. The Englishman to himself, "Look here! By
George!" And the Corporal, dancing towards the Barber's with his arms
wide open, caught up the child, held her over his head in a flying
attitude, caught her down again, kissed her, and made off with her into
the Barber's house.
Now Mr. The Englishman had had a quarrel with his erring and disobedient
and disowned daughter, and there was a child in that case too. Had not
his daughter been a child, and had she not taken angel-flights above his
head as this child had flown above the Corporal's?
"He's a "--National Participled--"fool!" said the Englishman, and shut
his window.
But the windows of the house of Memory, and the windows of the house of
Mercy, are not so easily closed as windows of glass and wood. They fly
open unexpectedly; they rattle in the night; they must be nailed up. Mr.
The Englishman had tried nailing them, but had not driven the nails quite
home.
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