LITMIR.BIZ

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at Kingsbere! I tell

       'ee what 'tis, Jem Purchess, your brain is softening; and you be

       getting too old for business of state like ours!

      YOUNG MAN

       You've let your tongue wrack your few rames of good breeding, John.

      OLD MAN

       The words of my Lord-Lieutenant was, whenever you see Kingsbere-Hill

       Beacon fired to the eastward, or Black'on to the westward, light up;

       and keep your second fire burning for two hours. Was that our

       documents or was it not?

      YOUNG MAN

       I don't gainsay it. And so I keep my eye on Kingsbere because that's

       most likely o' the two, says I.

      OLD MAN

       That shows the curious depths of your ignorance. However, I'll have

       patience, and say on. Didst ever larn geography?

      YOUNG MAN

       No. Nor no other corrupt practices.

      OLD MAN

       Tcht-tcht!—Well, I'll have patience, and put it to him in another

       form. Dost know the world is round—eh? I warrant dostn't!

      YOUNG MAN

       I warrant I do!

      OLD MAN

       How d'ye make that out, when th'st never been to school?

      YOUNG MAN

       I larned it at church, thank God.

      OLD MAN

       Church? What have God A'mighty got to do with profane knowledge?

       Beware that you baint blaspheming, Jems Purchess!

      YOUNG MAN

       I say I did, whether or no! 'Twas the zingers up in gallery that

       I had it from. They busted out that strong with “the round world

       and they that dwell therein,” that we common fokes down under could

       do no less than believe 'em.

      OLD MAN

       Canst be sharp enough in the wrong place as usual—I warrant canst!

       However, I'll have patience with 'en and say on!—Suppose, now, my

       hat is the world; and there, as might be, stands the Camp of Belong,

       where Boney is. The world goes round, so, and Belong goes round too.

       Twelve hours pass; round goes the world still—so. Where's Belong

       now?

       [A pause. Two other figures, a man's and a woman's, rise against

       the sky out of the gloom.]

      OLD MAN [shouldering his pike]

       Who goes there? Friend or foe, in the King's name!

      WOMAN

       Piece o' trumpery! “Who goes” yourself! What d'ye talk o', John

       Whiting! Can't your eyes earn their living any longer, then, that

       you don't know your own neighbours? 'Tis Private Cantle of the

       Locals and his wife Keziar, down at Bloom's-End—who else should

       it be!

      OLD MAN [lowering his pike]

       A form o' words, Mis'ess Cantle, no more; ordained by his Majesty's

       Gover'ment to be spoke by all we on sworn duty for the defence o' the

       country. Strict rank-and-file rules is our only horn of salvation in

       these times.—But, my dear woman, why ever have ye come lumpering up

       to Rainbarrows at this time o' night?

      WOMAN

       We've been troubled with bad dreams, owing to the firing out at sea

       yesterday; and at last I could sleep no more, feeling sure that

       sommat boded of His coming. And I said to Cantle, I'll ray myself,

       and go up to Beacon, and ask if anything have been heard or seen to-

       night. And here we be.

      OLD MAN

       Not a sign or sound—all's as still as a churchyard. And how is

       your good man?

      PRIVATE [advancing]

       Clk. I be all right! I was in the ranks, helping to keep the ground

       at the review by the King this week. We was a wonderful sight—

       wonderful! The King said so again and again.—Yes, there was he, and

       there was I, though not daring to move a' eyebrow in the presence of

       Majesty. I have come home on a night's leave—off there again to-

       morrow. Boney's expected every day, the Lord be praised! Yes, our

       hopes are to be fulfilled soon, as we say in the army.

      OLD MAN

       There, there, Cantle; don't ye speak quite so large, and stand

       so over-upright. Your back is as holler as a fire-dog's. Do ye

       suppose that we on active service here don't know war news? Mind

       you don't go taking to your heels when the next alarm comes, as you

       did at last year's.

      PRIVATE

       That had nothing to do with fighting, for I'm as bold as a lion when

       I'm up, and “Shoulder Fawlocks!” sounds as common as my own name to

       me. 'Twas—- [lowering his voice.] Have ye heard?

      OLD MAN

       To be sure we have.

      PRIVATE

       Ghastly, isn't it!

      OLD MAN

       Ghastly! Frightful!

      YOUNG MAN [to Private]

       He don't know what it is! That's his pride and puffery. What is it

       that' so ghastly—hey?

      PRIVATE

       Well, there, I can't tell it. 'Twas that that made the whole eighty

       of our company run away—though we be the bravest of the brave in

       natural jeopardies, or the little boys wouldn't run after us and

       call us and call us the “Bang-up-Locals.”

      WOMAN [in undertones]

       I can tell you a word or two on't. It is about His victuals. They

       say that He lives upon human flesh, and has rashers o' baby every

       morning for breakfast—for all the world like the Cernal Giant in

       old ancient times!

      YOUNG MAN

       Ye can't believe all ye hear.

      PRIVATE

       I only believe half. And I only own—such is my challengeful

       character—that perhaps He do eat pagan infants when He's in the

       desert. But not Christian ones at home. Oh no—'tis too much.

      WOMAN

       Whether or no, I sometimes—God forgive me!—laugh wi' horror

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