which young John resolutely declined to do. So My Lords deliberated on the state of the case, and the result of the deliberation was that young John was required to deliver over into My Lords' hands his resignation of the appointment he held under them.
A more miserable young man than young John was on the afternoon of Christmas Eve probably never stepped out of a government office. He was absolutely penniless and particularly deeply in debt—in a small vulgar way—besides. He had borrowed £5 from a loan office, and he was in debt to the amount of some pounds to the tavern-keeper who supplied his dinner. His tailor and boot-maker had for mouths been a source of anxiety to him, sleeping and waking; and a miserable bit of kite-flying (of which he expected to hear more on the 1st of February) exercised a depressing influence over him, which appeared to increase in geometrical proportion as the day approached.
As a set-off to these claims, he had his half-quarter's cheque on the Postmaster-General for about £12, and a letter from the secretary accepting his resignation in My Lords' name.
Young John had, however, quite made up his mind as to his future course. The Crimean War was then in full swing, the battles of the Alma and Inkerman had both been fought in the course of the last three or four months, and the demand for young and active fellows to fill up the lists of the dead was unprecedented.
There were recruiting sergeants at every street-corner in Westminster, who talked with robust eloquence of the glories of the war—which they had not seen—and of
