would have steadied them in after-life
when steadiness was wanted. The only adventure that their surroundings
offered them has been the adventure of practising mildly criminal
misdeeds without getting landed in reformatories and prisons; those of
them that have not been successful in keeping clear of detection are
walking round and round prison yards, experiencing the operation of a
discipline that breaks and does not build. They were merry-hearted boys
once, with nothing of the criminal or ne'er-do-weel in their natures, and
now--have you ever seen a prison yard, with that walk round and round and
round between grey walls under a blue sky?"

Yeovil nodded.

"It's good enough for criminals and imbeciles," said the parson, "but
think of it for those boys, who might have been marching along to the tap
of the drum, with a laugh on their lips instead of Hell in their hearts.
I have had Hell in my heart sometimes, when I have come in touch with
cases like those. I suppose you are thinking that I am a strange sort of
parson."

"I was just defining you in my mind," said Yeovil, "as a man of God, with
an infinite tenderness for little devils."

The clergyman flushed.

"Rather a fine epitaph to have on one's tombstone," he said, "especially
if the tombstone were in some crowded city graveyard. I suppose I am a
man of God, but I don't think I could be called a man of peace."

Looking at the strong young face, with its suggestion of a fighting prior
of bygone days more marked than ever, Yeovil mentally agreed that he
could not.

"I have learned one thing in life," continued the young man, "and that is
that peace is not for this world. Peace is what God gives us when He
takes us into His rest. Beat your sword into a ploughshare if you like,
but beat your enemy into smithereens first."

A long-drawn cry, repeated again and again, detached itself from the
throb and hoot and whir of the street traffic.

"Speshul! Military service, spesh-ul!"

The young clergyman sprang from his seat and went up the staircase in a
succession of bounds, causing the domino players and novelette readers to
look up for a moment in mild astonishment. In a few seconds he was back
again, with a copy of an afternoon paper. The Imperial Rescript was set
forth in heavy type, in parallel columns of English and German. As the
young man read a deep burning flush spread over his face, then ebbed away
into a chalky whiteness. He read the announ