measured intonations. But
although Harding ridiculed him, he often led him into conversation,
and listened with obvious interest, for Mr. Stokes had drifted
through many modes and manners of life, and had in so doing acquired
some vague knowledge.

He had written a book on the ancient religions of India, which he
called the _Cradleland of Arts and Creeds_, and Harding, ever on the
alert to pick a brain however poor it might be, enticed him into
discussion in which frequent allusion was made to Vishnu and Siva.

Yes, drifted is the word that best expresses Mr. Stokes' passage
through life--he had drifted. He was one of the many millions who
live without a fixed intention, without even knowing what they
desire; and he had drifted because in him strength and weakness stood
at equipoise; no defect was heavy enough for anchor, nor was there
any quality large enough for sufficient sail; he had drifted from
country to country, from profession to profession, whither winds and
waves might bear him.

"Of course I'm a failure," was a phrase that Mr. Stokes repeated with
a mild, gentle humour, and without any trace of bitterness. He spoke
of himself with the naive candour of a docile school-boy, who has
taken up several subjects for examination and been ploughed in them
all. For Mr. Stokes had been to Oxford, and left it without taking a
degree. Then he had gone into the army, and had proved himself a
thoroughly inefficient soldier, and more than any man before or
after, had succeeded in rousing the ire of both adjutant and colonel.
It was impossible to teach him any drill; what he was taught to-day
he forgot to-morrow; when the general came down to inspect, the
confusion he created in the barrack-yard had proved so complex, that
for a second it had taxed the knowledge of the drill-sergeant to get
the men straight again.

Mr. Stokes was late at all times and all occasions: he was late for
drill, he was late for mess, he was late for church; and when sent
for he was always found in his room, either learning a part or
writing a play. His one passion was theatricals; and wherever the
regiment was stationed, he very soon discovered those who were
disposed to get up a performance of a farce.

When he left the army he joined the Indian bar, and there he applied
himself in his own absent-minded fashion to the study of Sanscrit,
neglecting Hindustani, which would have been of use to him in his
profession. Through India, China, and A