"I'm going to get a book on Russian!" exclaimed Phil, the day following their visit to the British Museum. "People tell me it is the most difficult of all languages to learn, but I may be able to pick up a few useful words. I remember now that the firm I acted as clerk to did business with another trading with Russian ports, and they had a Russian clerk. I met him once or twice, and I'll just go along and see what he says about the matter." "It's a good thing, right enough, Phil," Tony replied, with a shrug, "but it's far beyond me, as far as the clouds; but you have a try at it, old man, and I'll be bound you'll succeed. I never knew yer beat yet." Accordingly Phil went off at the first opportunity to see the clerk he had mentioned, and after a chat with him bought a book, and was shown the characters as a first lesson. "Take my advice," said the clerk, who was the son of a Russian mother and an English father, and almost entirely English in his ways and thoughts, "and buy a really good map of the country, and a reliable compass. Supposing you get cut off from the troops, it might prove of the greatest service to you. As regards the language, come along to my rooms as often as you like. I am always in about six o'clock, and will be glad to give you a lesson." Phil was not slow to take advantage of the offer. Every day he was free from guards and other duties, and had no engagement with Tony to see the sights of London, he repaired to the rooms of his Russian friend, and there worked hard at the language. If Mr Western could have seen him and his earnestness, he would have been agape with amazement. This his idle adopted son? This the wilful lad who would never settle down to work, and never take a leading place in his class at school? Could this young soldier--this fine, stalwart young fellow (even he would have been obliged to admit it)--who slaved so many hours day and night at the dryest of dry and uninteresting subjects, be really the lad who had always gone contrary to his wishes, the unmanageable boy full of daring and mischief, who had occasioned the vicar of Riddington so many anxious and bitter thoughts? To him it would have been almost beyond belief. His dull and rigidly narrow mind could not have grasped the change. But Joe Sweetman, what would he have said? How he would have chuckled, with just a suspicion of pride and elation, and blurted out: "Didn't I tell you so. Leave the lad alone. Wild and unmanageable? Pshaw! Look at him now. His heart's in the right place. He's got hold of a subject he's interested in, and he's got the backbone to stick to it, though it means a lot of hard work."