service beard, in its various
forms and aspects, forms an interesting study. There is, of course, the
ordinary dull beard grown by an adequately but not outrageously hirsute
person and trimmed to a conventional shape, which makes the wearer
resemble any such normal being as a naval officer, a parson, or
respectable middle-aged civilian of everyday life. The only striking
feature of this beard is that it is productive of unexpected likenesses.
You have, for instance, known a brother officer for many years, and
never found him possessed of any of the glamour of royalty; you meet him
on service wearing his beard, and find he is the veritable double of the
Prince of Wales.

But there are other beards. There is, for instance, what may be called
the 'Infant prodigy' beard, a monstrosity adorning the chin of a quite
youthful officer. The latter may be put to serve under you. And it takes
time and much hardening of yourself against external influences before
you have the effrontery to order the young gentleman about, or tell him
off when he is in error. I remember an instance of a fairly senior
captain calling on a regimental mess and being entertained during his
visit by the only officer of that regiment then present. The latter
possessed an 'Infant prodigy' beard, which was also flecked with a few
abnormal grey hairs. I was in that mess too at the moment--in the
capacity of honorary member only--and followed the interview with
relish. The senior captain was becomingly deferential, and the
youngster's grey beard wagged with what appeared becoming dignity. At
last a light was brought in by a servant, for it was growing dark, which
flashed for a moment on Mr. Greybeard's shoulder strap, and revealed two
simple subaltern's stars. The gradual, almost imperceptible, change in
the senior captain's manner, and the corresponding falling from his high
estate of Mr. Greybeard were interesting to watch. The former soon got
up to go.

'Damn that fellow! I mistook him for the colonel,' is what I am sure he
said to himself when he got outside.

Then there is what may be called the 'British workman' beard--that is,
the beard which is allowed to grow in its own sweet way, and may adopt
any of the sizes or shapes that one sees on the faces of such British
workmen as never visit a barber. This type also is productive of strange
likenesses, not to public personages or one's own compeers, but to the
men of the British working class whom one h