“It is the sergeant,” one of the boys exclaimed.  “I wonder whether he has got a fresh set of views?  The last were first-rate ones.”

The sergeant gave a friendly nod to the boys as he passed, and then, turning up the main street from the beach, went along until he came to a shaded corner, and there stopped.  The boys had all got up and followed him, and now stood looking on with interest at his proceedings.  The little girl had climbed out of her basket as soon as he stopped, and after asking leave, trotted back along the street to the beach, and was soon at play among the seaweed and stones.

She was a singularly pretty child, with dark blue eyes, and brown hair with a touch of gold.  Her print dress was spotlessly clean and neat; a huge flapping sunbonnet shaded her face, whose expression was bright and winning.

“Well, boys,” the sergeant said cheerfully, “how have you been getting on since I was here last?  Nobody drowned, I hope, or come to any ill.  Not that we must grumble, whatever comes.  We have all got to do our duty, whether it be to march up a hill with shot and shell screaming and whistling round, as I have had to do; or to be far out at sea with the wind blowing fit to take the hair off your head, as comes to your lot sometimes; or following the plough from year’s end to year’s end, as happens to some.  We have got to make the best of it, whatever it is.

“I have got a grand new set of pictures from Exeter.  They came all the way down from London town for me by waggon.  London Bridge, and Windsor Castle, with the flag flying over it, telling that the king—­God bless his gracious majesty—­is at home.

“Then, I have got some pictures of foreign parts that will make you open your eyes.  There’s Niagara.  I don’t know whether you’ve heard of it, but it’s a place where a great river jumps down over a wall of rock, as high as that steeple there, with a roar like thunder that can be heard, they say, on a still night, for twenty miles round.

“I have got some that will interest you more still, because you are sailors, or are going to be sailors.  I have got one of the killing of a whale.  He has just thrown a boat, with five sailors, into the air, with a lash of his tail; but it’s of no use, for there are other boats round, and the harpoons are striking deep in his flesh.  He is a big fish, and a strong one; but he will be beaten, for he does not know how to use his strength.  That’s the case with many men.  They throw away their life and their talents, just because they don’t know what’s in them, and what they might do if they tried.

“And I have got a picture of the fight with the Spanish Armada.  You have heard about that, boys, surely; for it began out there, over the water, almost in sight of Sidmouth, and went on all the way up the Channel; our little ships hanging on to the great Spaniards and giving them no rest, but worrying them, and battering them, till they were glad to sail away to the Dutch coast.  But they were not safe there, for we sent fire ships at them, and they had to cut and run; and then a storm came on, and sunk many, and drove others ashore all around our coasts, even round the north of Scotland and Ireland.