As the servant went on his message, the old man lay back on his seat, and, closing his eyes, muttered some few dropping words, implying his satisfaction at this act of reverential homage. “A young soldier too; it speaks well for the service when the men of action revere the men of thought. I am glad it is a good day with me; he shall carry away other memories than of woods and streams. Ah! here he comes.” Slowly, and somewhat feebly, Trafford ascended the hill, and with a most respectful greeting approached the Judge. “I thank you for your courtesy in coming here, sir,” said the Chief; “and when we have rested a little, I will be your _Cicerone_ back to the house.” The conversation flowed on pleasantly between them, Sir William asking where Traflford had served, and what length of time he had been in Ireland,--his inquiries evidently indicating that he had not heard of him before, or, if he had, had forgotten him. “And now you are going to Malta?” “Yes, my Lord; we sail on the 12th.” “Well, sir, Valetta has no view to rival that. See what a noble sweep the bay takes here, and mark how well the bold headlands define the limits! Look at that stretch of yellow beach, like a golden fillet round the sea; and then mark the rich woods waving in leafy luxuriance to the shore! Those massive shadows are to landscape what times of silent thought are to our moral natures. Do you like your service, sir?” “Yes, my Lord; there is much in it that I like. I would like it all if it were in 'activity.'” “I have much of the soldier in myself, and the qualities by which I have gained any distinction I have won are such as make generals,--quick decision, rapid intelligence, prompt action.” Traflford bowed to this pretentions summary, but did not speak. The old Judge went on to describe what he called the military mind, reviewing in turn the generals of note from Hannibal down to Marlborough. “What have they left us by way of legacy, sir? The game, lost or won, teaches us as much! Is not a letter of Cicero, is not an ode of Horace worth it all? And as for battle-fields, it is the painter, not the warrior, has made them celebrated. Wouvermans has done more for war than Turenne!” “But, my Lord, there must be a large number of men like myself who make very tolerable soldiers, but who would turn out sorry poets or poor advocates.”