148 TALES OF A NOMAD. 



never made another shot as good as the first one ; and no 

 one else was hurt, though we had some very narrow 

 squeaks from rifle bullets. 



The continued strain was very wearing upon the 

 nerves ; and, talk about time hanging heavily, I never 

 experienced such a long day in my life. I feel sure that 

 I became a year older during that twelve hours. 



The cramped position, too, was a nuisance. Had it 

 not been for the witticisms and mercurial temperament 

 of an Irish soldier who was squatted next to me, 

 should have been a prey to melancholy. 



Irishmen may be obstructives in the House of 

 Commons, but they are jewels in the field. 



On the other side of this Irishman was an English 

 soldier, and during the lulls of the firing they held 

 sweet converse under difficulties. It ran something in 

 this line : 



" I wish I had a bloomin' 'arf pint. Mike, have you 

 never a fill of bacca about you ? " 



" I have here ye are enjoy it. Maybe ye'll be 

 perched on a cloud smoking away among the saints 

 in glory before long, av if it's allowed in thim parts." 



They then began conversing about a certain music- 

 hall at some place where they had once been stationed. 

 The Irishman observed that it was " a place for real 

 enjoyment and the height of foine living". 



The Englishman replied : " Yes, what I likes about that 

 bloomin' place is that there ain't no bloomin' affectation, 

 no introductions nor the like of that ; when you sees a 

 young woman, you goes up and ketches hold of her and 

 says, ' J Ow dye do, Polly ? ' and there you are, you see." 



The Irishman incautiously lifted his head for a 

 moment. Whiz came a bullet past his face. 



