stammer a few words, he
would never refer to his own little person as "he," as other babies do,
but from the very first he spoke of himself as "I." You have no "I,"
said his parents. When he grew older, he expressed every little want or
desire by "I will." But then his father said to him, "You have no will,"
and "Your will grows in the wood."

It was very foolish of the soldier, but he knew no better; he had
learned to will only what he was ordered to do.

Young Peal thought it strange that he should be supposed to have no will
when he had such a very strong one, but he let it pass.

When he had grown into a fine, strong youth, his father said to him one
day, "What trade will you learn?"

The boy did not know; he had ceased to will anything, because he was
forbidden to do so. It is true, he had a leaning towards music, but he
did not dare to say so, for he was convinced that his parents would not
allow him to become a musician. Therefore, being an obedient son, he
replied, "I don't will anything."

"Then you shall be a tapster," said the father.

Whether it was because the father knew a tapster, or because wine had
a peculiar attraction for him, is a matter of indifference. It is quite
enough to know that young Peal was sent to the wine vaults, and he might
have fared a good deal worse.

There was a lovely smell of sealing-wax and French wine in the cellars,
and they were large and had vaulted roofs, like churches. When he sat at
the casks and tapped the red wine, his heart was filled with gladness,
and he sang, in an undertone at first, all sorts of tunes which he had
picked up.

His master, to whom wine spelt life, loved song and gaiety, and never
dreamed of stopping his singing; it sounded so well in the vaults, and,
moreover, it attracted customers, which was a splendid thing from the
master's point of view.

One day a commercial traveller dropped in; he had started life as an
opera-singer, and when he heard Peal, he was so delighted with him that
he invited him to dinner.

They played nine-pins, ate crabs with dill, drank punch, and, above
everything, sang songs. Between two songs, and after they had sworn
eternal friendship, the commercial traveller said:

"Why don't you go on the stage?"

"I?" answered Peal, "how could I do that?"

"All you have to do is to say 'I will.'"

This was a new doctrine, for since his third year young Peal had not
used the words "I" and "will." He had trained himself t