180 THE LION KILLER. 



however small may be the ranks it is rare, not to find in them 

 a true soldier in embryo. It is not always the one in com- 

 mand; sometimes he stands in the ranks and wears the 

 quiet air of a girl in disguise. But on a careful exami- 

 nation there is one thing remarkable, either in the manner of 

 carrying the arms, or in the bearing ; not the swaggering 

 air of some — those are the peacocks that spread their tails to 

 show the richness of their feathers — but the serious mien that 

 seems to say, " I am in my place and was made for it." 



When such a physiognomy or bearing meets my view, I 

 always feel that here is a fellow who was born with a sword 

 in his hand ; but who are his parents, and what will they 

 make of him ? Perhaps. a notary, or a priest, or a student, 

 when the chick, hardly out of its shell, is armed like a fight- 

 ing cock. On these occasions I always want to see the 

 father, and say to him : 



" When I was a boy like yours I played soldier like him, 

 my parents wanted me to walk another path. I followed it 

 like a dutiful son, but it brought me out a soldier at the end." 



In fact, when a taste for a profession is strongly marked, 

 there is no alternative, the boy becomes eminent in that career 

 or in none. 



When I was ten years of age I waged war against the 

 sparrows that came for the fruit in my father's gardens, with 

 an antiquated blunderbuss as my only weapon, and then upon 

 the cats that came for the sparrows, and I banded my young 

 comrades to assist in this warfare, which became more 

 dreaded by the neighbors than the previous depredations of 

 the birds, 



