longer a free British citizen entitled to the rights of such so
long as he behaved as a citizen should, but a mere horrible defender
of those of his countrymen, who were averse from the toils and
possible dangers of self-defence. It was brought home to him, then and
there, with some clearness, that the noble Britons who (perhaps)
"never never will be slaves," have a fine and high contempt for those
whose life-work is to save them from that distressing position; that
the noble Briton, while stoutly (and truly Britishly) refusing to hear
of universal service and the doing by each man of his first duty to
the State, is informed with a bitter loathing of those who, for
wretched hire and under wretched conditions, perform those duties for
him. Dam did not mind, though he did not enjoy, doing housemaid's work
in the barrack-room, scrubbing floors, blackleading iron table-legs
and grates, sweeping, dusting, and certain other more unpleasant
menial tasks; he did not mind, though he did not like, "mucking-out"
stables and scavenging; he could take at their proper value the
insults of ignorant boors set in authority over him; he could stand,
if not enjoy, the hardships of the soldier's life--but he did _not_
see why his doing his duty in that particular sphere--an arduous,
difficult, and frequently dangerous sphere--should earn him the united
insult of the united public! Why should an educated and cultured man,
a gentleman in point of fact, be absolutely prohibited from hearing a
"classical" concert because he wore the Queen's uniform and did that
most important and necessary work which the noble Briton is too
slack-baked, too hypocritically genteel, too degenerate, to perform,
each man for himself?

In a somewhat bitter frame of mind the unfortunate young man strolled
along the Leas and seated himself on a public bench, honestly
wondering as he did so, whether he were sufficiently a member of the
great and glorious public to have a right to do it while wearing the
disgraceful and disgracing garb of a Trooper of the Queen.... Members
of that great and glorious public passed him by in rapid succession.
Narrow-chested youths of all classes, and all crying aloud in
slack-lipped silence for the drill-sergeant to teach them how to stand
and walk; for the gymnasium-instructor to make them, what they would
never be, _men_; for some one to give them an aim and an ideal beyond
cigarettes, socks, and giggling "gels" or "gals" or "garls" o