e all one to him.

At one time Eileen had endeavored to teach him a few simple
accomplishments, such as begging for food, dying for his country, and
carrying parcels. She was unsuccessful in all three instances. Excalibur
on his hind legs stood about five feet six, and when he fell from that
eminence, as he invariably did when he tried to beg, he usually broke
something. He was hampered, too, by inability to distinguish one order
from another. More than once he narrowly escaped with his life through
mistaking an urgent appeal to come to heel out of the way of an
approaching automobile for a command to die for his country in the
middle of the road.

As for educating him to carry parcels, a single attempt was sufficient.
The parcel in question contained a miscellaneous assortment of articles
from the grocer's, including lard, soap, and safety matches. It was
securely tied up, and the grocer kindly attached it by a short length of
string to a wooden clothespin, in order to make it easier for Excalibur
to carry. They set off home.

Excalibur was most apologetic about it afterward, besides being
extremely unwell; but he had no idea, he explained to Eileen, that
anything put into his mouth was not meant to be eaten. He then tendered
the clothespin and some mangled brown paper, with an air of profound
abasement. After that no further attempts at compulsory education were
undertaken.

It was his daily walk with Eileen, however, which introduced Excalibur
to life--life in its broadest and most romantic sense. As I was not
privileged to be present at the opening incident of this episode, or at
most of its subsequent developments, the direct conduct of this
narrative here passes out of my hands.

One sunny morning in July a young man in clerical attire sat
breakfasting in his rooms at Mrs. Tice's. Mrs. Tice's establishment was
situated on the village street and Mrs. Tice was in the habit of letting
her ground floor to lodgers of impeccable respectability.

It was half-past eleven, which is a late hour for the clergy to
breakfast; but this young man appeared to be suffering from no qualms of
conscience on the subject. He was making an excellent breakfast and
reading the Henley results with a mixture of rapture and longing.

He had just removed the "Sportsman" from the convenient buttress of the
teapot and substituted "Punch" when he became aware that day had turned
to night. Looking up he perceived that his open window, whi