-ra-ra-boom-de-ay," Sir Frederick Leighton's "Wedded," a
gruesome depiction of a Chinese execution at Canton, an old-fashioned
engraving of that dashing, debonair cavalry officer, "Major Hodson," of
Indian Mutiny fame, George Robey, as a nurse-maid, wheeling Little Tich
in a perambulator, the grim, torture-lined face of Slatin Pasha, a
ridiculously obscene picture entitled "Two coons scoffing oysters for a
wager," that glorious edifice the "Taj Mahal" of India, and so on.
"Divarsiment" indeed!

To this ill-assorted admixture three exceptions only were grouped with
any sense of reason. The central picture was a beautifully coloured
reproduction of Sir Hubert Herkomer's famous masterpiece "The Last
Muster." Lovers of art subjects are doubtless familiar with this
immortal painting. It depicts a pathetic congregation of old,
white-haired, war-worn pensioners attending divine service in the chapel
of Old Chelsea Hospital, with the variegated lights from the
stained-glass windows flooding them with soft gentle colours. Flanking
it on either side were portraits of the original founders of this
historical institution in 1692--Charles II (The Merry Monarch) and his
kindly-hearted "light o' love" Sweet Nell Gwynn of Old Drury.

With curiously mixed feelings George finally tore himself away from
Yorke's pathetically grotesque attempt at wall-adornment. Strive as he
would within his soul to ridicule, the pictures seemed somehow almost to
shout at him with hidden meaning. As if a voice--a drunken voice, but
gentlemanly withall--was hiccuping in his ear: "Paradise Lost, old man!
(hic) Paradise Lost!"

And, mixed with it, came again out of the silence of the foothills the
coyote's faintly persistent mocking wail--its "ki-yip-yap" sounding
almost like "Bah! Yah! Baa!" . . . Some lines of an old quotation,
picked up he knew not where, wandered into his mind--

_Comedy, Tragedy, Laughter and Tears!
Thou'rt rolled as one in the Dust of Years_!

With a sigh he turned to his own cot and began to unpack and arrange his
kit; in regulation fashion, and with such small faddy fixings customary
to men inured to barrack life. Thus engaged the time passed rapidly.
Later in the day he assisted the sergeant in making out the detachment's
"monthly returns" and diary. This task accomplished, in the gathering
dusk he attended "Evening Stables." There were two saddle-horses beside
the previously-mentioned team. A splendid upstanding