In the meantime, the jaded waiter at the hotel had conveyed their fellow-Ensign to bed, to dream--if he were capable of dreaming--of the brilliant future which his first day’s experience of actual military life held out.
However interesting it might prove to the noble relatives of Ensign Spoonbill to learn his progress, step by step, we must--for reasons of our own--pass over the first few weeks of his new career, with only a brief mention of the leading facts.
His brother-officers had instructed him in the art of tying on his sash, wearing his forage cap on one side, the secret of distinguishing his right hand from his left, and the mysteries of marching and counter-marching. The art of holding up his head and throwing out his chest, had been carefully imparted by the drill-serjeant of his company, and he had, accordingly, been pronounced “fit for duty.”
What this was may best be shown, by giving an outline of “a subaltern’s day,” as he and the majority of his military friends were in the habit of passing it. It may serve to explain how it happens that British officers are so far in advance of their continental brethren in arms in the science of their profession, and by what process they have arrived at that intellectual superiority, which renders it a matter of regret that more serious interests than the mere discipline and well-being of only a hundred and twenty thousand men have not been confided to their charge.
The scene opens in a square room of tolerable size which, if simply adorned with “barrack furniture,” (to wit, a deal table, two windsor-chairs, a coal scuttle, and a set of fire-irons,) would give an idea of a British subaltern’s “interior,” of rather more Spartan-like simplicity than is altogether true. But to these were added certain elegant “extras,” obtained not out of the surplus of five and three-pence a day--after mess and band subscriptions, cost of uniform, servant’s wages, &c., had been deducted--but on credit, which it was easier to get than to avoid incurring expense. A noble youth, like Ensign Spoonbill, had only to give the word of command to be obeyed by Messrs. Rosewood and Mildew, with the alacrity shown by the slaves of the lamp, and in an incredibly short space of time, the bare walls and floor of his apartment were covered with the gayest articles their establishment afforded. They included those indispensable adjuncts to a young officer’s toilette, a full length cheval, and a particularly lofty pier-glass. A green-baize screen converted the apartment into as many separate rooms as its occupant desired, cutting it up, perhaps, a little here and there, but adding, on the whole, a great deal to its comfort and privacy. What was out of the line of Messrs. Rosewood and Mildew--and that, as Othello says, was “not much”--the taste of Ensign Spoonbill himself supplied. To his high artistic taste were due the presence of a couple of dozen gilt-framed and highly-colored prints, representing the reigning favorites of the ballet, the winners of the Derby and Leger, and the costumes of the “dressiest,” and consequently the most distinguished corps in the service; the nice arrangement of cherry-stick tubes, amber mouth-pieces, meerschaum bowls, and embroidered bags of Latakia tobacco; pleasing devices of the well-crossed foils, riding whips, and single sticks evenly balanced by fencing masks and boxing gloves; and, on the chimney-piece, the brilliant array of nick-nacks, from the glittering shop of Messrs. Moses, Lazarus and Son, who called themselves “jewellers and dealers in curiosities,” and who dealt in a few trifles which were not alluded to above their door-posts.