XIII ON THE HOMEWARD TRAIL 287 



fellow -mortals, but whilst engaged in his favourite pastime 

 his spirit is ever young. To such men Kingsley's immortal 

 lines will ever recur : — 



When all the world is young, lad. 



And all the trees are green ; 

 And every goose a swan, lad. 



And every lass a queen ; 

 Then hey for boot and horse, lad. 



And round the world away ; 

 Young blood must have its course, lad. 



And every dog his day. 



When all the world is old, lad, 



And all the trees are brown ; 

 And all the sport is stale, lad, 



And all the wheels run down ; 

 Creep home and take your place there. 



The spent and maimed among : 

 God grant you find one face there, 



You loved when all was young. 



Good men and true will generally go like a good horse 

 until they drop in harness. Although the following episode 

 was related by one who was not an eye-witness of the scene, 

 and therefore it is impossible to vouch for the accuracy of 

 the details, it is so characteristic of the man about whom the 

 story is told, that I quote it as related to me. Not long since 

 a friend of the author's, under whose command the latter 

 formerly had the honour to serve, passed away in such a 

 manner. He was a gallant and distinguished officer, who 

 finally attained a high rank in the British Army. His kindly 

 nature and great love of sport endeared him to all who served 

 under him. A good rider, a fine shot, and one of the best 

 of fishermen, he finally retired into private life, hoping that 

 one sport at least might last him to the end. One day, 



