CHAPTER VII.

LIFE AT THE DEPOT.

Justice Shallow.-There was I; and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Bare, and Francis Pickbone, a Cotswold man. There was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy and a page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.

Oh the mad days that I have spent! And to see how many of my acquaintances are dead.

King Henry IV. Part Second.

WHEN Alured came to himself it was broad daylight. Mogford, the young doctor whom he had seen the night before at the trial, stood by his bedside, asking him how he felt.

Queerish, eh? Don't wonder at it. Here, take this pick-me-up.' It'll put you straight in no time."

Alured was most anxious to know what had happened, and where he was.

"You got a cracker on the head last night, that's all. Mac brought you home in a car, and we put you to bed. These are Davidson's quarters."

VOL. I.

I

"What time is it?"

"Past twelve."

"So late. May I get up ?"

"Of course-if you're equal to it. Davidson's servant's outside. He'll get your tub and things ready. Come over to the mess

when you're dressed."

The servant said Davidson was away in the drill-field, but he'd be back soon on his way to breakfast, and presently the captain came in. "All right this morning? It was a shame of us to send you out that way."

Alured was still somewhat bewildered, and longed to ask all about the events of the previous night. But Davidson rather evaded the subject.

"Hungry are you? Then you can't be much wrong. Come along; I've ordered breakfast."

It was the same room that had served as court-house. A long table ran down the centre, at which a dozen or more men were seated, nearly all of whom looked up and smiled pleasantly on Alured as he came in.

"Good morning, Frere." "Good morning."

Poor joke for you, after all," and so forth, leading Alured to understand that he had become a sort of centre for their sympathies.

Where's the admiral? Not been over yet?" asked some one.

"He's late."

"A lot of recruits have come in; they're keeping him at the hospital."

"There's his voice."

It was the same deep bass that Alured had heard presiding at the trial. The 'general" and old Draycott, the adjutant, came in together. They were both laughing hugely at some some story, and Draycott was saying, "You know you mustn't do it. There'll be another row. The general, the real chap I mean "

Alured looked up, and caught the mock general's eye.

Halloa, small chap!" roared the general or the admiral, or Starkie, surgeon in charge, as I shall call him in future, "you're there are you? How do you feel this morning?

Not a bad beginThey say you per

None the worse I hope. ning for such an infant. formed prodigies of valour. But don't go on this way, or we must send you back to your mother; if we're not all lagged for infanticide."

"Don't mind him, Frere," said Davidson, good-naturedly. "His sense of repartee is blunted, is the admiral's, of a morning. jokes are too feeble."

"I thought he was a general?

His

"And he's only a doctor after all!" roared Starkie, with a great guffaw. Then, changing his tone, he summoned the waiter.

Mess-waiter, bring me a glass of water." "Yes, sir," going.

"And, mess-waiter,—put a little brandy in it."

"Yes, sir," going again.

And, mess-waiter, you can leave out the water."

A strange being, this Starkie; one of the last of the hard-drinking men of a by-gone generation, who, thanks to an iron constitution, had survived his fellows, and stood like a

bit of drift timber left by the receding tide just above water-mark,—a tall, handsome man, with something still of the old rollicking devilmay-care address which had won him once success among a certain class, and made him piquant and interesting even now to the young men at Ballybanagher. See him of an evening, late, as he leant with half-drunken solemnity against the mantelpiece, with a brandy and soda in one hand, while he waved the other to and fro as he gesticulated and laid down the law to the youngsters standing openmouthed around. To bed in the small hours; but no matter at what hour he turned in, halfpast eight next morning saw him at his hospital, and woe to assistant or sergeant who was not there to receive him. Towards noon he came. back to mess, and made a giant's breakfast. While thus employed, you might hear the deep tones of his tremendous voice abusing the mess-waiters, or entertaining a select audience with questionable stories. Such was old Starkie," the admiral," as they called him aptly enough, from his high and mighty "quarter-deck" manner, from the long