40 A Sportswoman in India 



uniform and the fellow-Tommy he sees every day, 



every hour of his life, where is he to go ? Where is 



his Mary Ann ? Where is the friendly pub ? Where 



are the lanes and the villages to saunter and gossip 



in? Where are the shops, the omnibuses, the parks? 



Instead of which, in his own words : " I'm a Tommy 



a blooming, eight-anna, dog-stealing Tommy, with a 



number instead of a decent name. If I had stayed at 



home I might ha' married that gal, and kept a little 



shop in the 'Ammersmith 'Igh. 'PRACTICAL 



TAXIDERMIST,' with a stuffed fox, like as they has in 



the Aylesbury Dairies, in the window, and a little case 



with blue and yellow glass eyes, and a little wife to 



call * Shop shop ' when the door-bell rung. I'm sick 



to go 'ome go 'ome go 'ome. I'm sick for London 



again; sick for the sounds and sights and smells of 



her orange peel ! and asphalte ! and gas ! sick for 



Vauxhall Bridge, for the railway going down to Box 



Hill, with your gal on your knee, and a new clay pipe 



in your face that, and the Strand lights, where you 



knows every one, and the bobby that takes you up is 



an old friend as has taken you up before. No more 



blooming rotten-stone, nor khaki, nor guard-mounting, 



and yourself your own master with a gal to take and 



see the Humaners practising hooking dead corpses out 



of the Serpentine on Sundays ; . . . instead of which here 



I am, where there ain't no women, and there ain't no 



liquor worth having, and there's nothing to do, nor 



see, nor say, nor think, nor feel." 



Of all God-forsaken spots to be quartered in, Mian 



