“You survive here in a Christian land, in possession of your faculties; the world, it is true, has but few pleasures to offer you—­all the better for you.  Oh, if I could but make that as plain to you as it is to me.  You have every encouragement to look for happiness there, where alone it is to be found.  Then courage, corporal; you stood firm at Corunna—­do not give way in this your last and most glorious battle.  The stake is greater than it was at Vittoria, or Salamanca, or Corunna, or Waterloo.  The eternal welfare of a single human soul weighs a thousand times more than all the crowns and empires in the globe.  You are in danger, sir.  Discontent is a great enemy of the soul.  You must pray against it—­you must fight against it.”

“And so I will, sir; you see if I don’t.”

“You read, Mr. Giles?” Susan had told Mr. Eden his name at the threshold.

“Yes, sir; but I can’t abide them nasty little prints they bring me.”

“Of course you can’t.  Printed to sell, not to read, eh?  Here is a book.  The type is large, clear and sharp.  This is an order-book, corporal.  It comes from the great Captain of our salvation.  Every sentence in it is gold; yet I think I may safely pick out a few for your especial use at present.”  And Mr. Eden sat down, and producing from his side pockets, which were very profound, some long thin slips of paper, he rapidly turned the leaves of the Testament and inserted his markers; but this occupation did not for a moment interrupt his other proceedings.

“There is a pipe—­you don’t smoke, I hope?”

“No, sir; leastways not when I han’t got any baccy, and I’ve been out of that this three days—­worse luck.”

“Give up smoking, corporal, it is a foul habit.”

“Ah, sir! you don’t ever have a half-empty belly and a sorrowful heart, or you wouldn’t tell an old soldier to give up his pipe.”

“Take my advice.  Give up all such false consolation, to oblige me, now.”

“Well, sir, to oblige you, I’ll try; but you don’t know what his pipe is to a poor old man full of nothing but aches and pains, or you wouldn’t have asked me,” and old Giles sighed.  Susan sighed, too, for she thought Mr. Eden cruel for once.

“Miss Merton,” said the latter sternly, his eye twinkling all the time, “he is incorrigible; and I see you agree with me that it is idle to torment the incurable.  So” (diving into the capacious pocket) “here is an ounce of his beloved poison,” and out came a paper of tobacco.  Corporal’s eyes brightened with surprise and satisfaction.  “Poison him, Miss Merton, poison him quick, don’t keep him waiting.”

“Poison him, sir?”

“Fill his pipe for him, if you please.”

“That I will, sir, with pleasure.”  A white hand with quick and supple fingers filled the brown pipe.

“That is as it should be.  Let beauty pay honor to courage; above all to courage in its decay.”