"It is odd that, with all your abilities, you did not provide better for yourself."
"'Twas not my fault," said the Corporal, quickly; "but somehow, do what will—'tis not always the cliverest as foresees the best. But I be young yet, your honour!"
Walter stared at the Corporal and laughed outright: the Corporal was exceedingly piqued.
"Augh! mayhap you thinks, Sir, that 'cause not so young as you, not young at all; but, what's forty, or fifty, or fifty-five, in public life? never hear much of men afore then. 'Tis the autumn that reaps, spring sows, augh!—bother!"
"Very true and very poetical. I see you did not live among authors for nothing."
"I knows summut of language, your honour," quoth the Corporal pedantically.
"It is evident."
"For, to be a man of the world, Sir, must know all the ins and outs of speechifying; 'tis words, Sir, that makes another man's mare go your
