So GRAYLING FISHING ON THE ITCH EN 



and in marched a young soldier. Full six feet he 

 stood in his regimentals. I looked at him. " Why, 

 Victor," said I, "can it be you? You, the little 

 boy who, three years ago, used to carry my fishing- 

 basket ! " " Yes, sir," says he, " I am the same 

 Victor, only a little longer." Then he told us that 

 he had just come up from the training-ship at 

 Portsmouth to say good-bye to his parents before 

 going aboard the Majestic as a marine for a two 

 years' trip about the world. He had leave only till 

 the next day Sunday evening. The good people 

 in the house had all gone to bed long ago. Of 

 course he knew his way about the old home well 

 enough, and soon found a berth. 



The next evening, before leaving, I saw him in 

 the gloaming walking alone round the garden, 

 now and then standing at a corner, looking over 

 the pleasant fields, the farmhouse, the farm build- 

 ings, and the cottage over the way, and he re- 

 minded me of the old song, the soldier standing on 

 the hill and taking 



11 A last fond look 



Of the valley and the village church 

 And the cottage by the brook." 



I called him in, and he came with a tear in his 

 eye, for it was hard to part with the dear old home 

 and all the pleasant associations of his childhood, 

 his boyhood, and his early youth. He was well 

 aware that in these perilous times and chances of 

 war, and on board such a ship as the Majestic , he 



