“My dear Godfrey,” said his father, “I have never troubled you with much advice; but now you are going from me, let me advise you to take care that the same enthusiasm which makes you think your own country the best country upon earth, your own family the best family in that country, and your own regiment the best regiment in the service, all which is becoming a good patriot, a good son, and a good soldier, should go a step--a dangerous step farther, and should degenerate into party spirit, or what the French call _esprit-de-corps_.” “The French!” cried Godfrey. “Oh! hang the French! Never mind what the French call it, sir.” “And degenerating into party-spirit, or what is called _esprit-de-corps_,” resumed Mr. Percy, smiling, “should, in spite of your more enlarged views of the military art and science, and your knowledge of all that Alexander and Cæsar, and Marshal Saxe and Turenne, and the Duke of Marlborough and Lord Peterborough, ever said or did, persuade you to believe that your brother officers, whoever they may be, are the greatest men that ever existed, and that their opinions should rule the world, or at least should govern you.” “More than all the rest, I fear, my dear Godfrey,” interposed Mrs. Percy, “that, when you do not find the world so good as you imagine it to be, you will, by quarrelling with it directly, make it worse to you than it really is. But if you discover that merit is not always immediately rewarded or promoted, do not let your indignation, and--shall I say it--impatience of spirit, excite you to offend your superiors in station, and, by these means, retard your own advancement.” “Surely, if I should be treated with injustice, you would not have me bear it patiently?” cried Godfrey, turning quickly. “In the first place, stay till it happens before you take fire,” said his father; “and, in the next place, remember that patience, and deference to his superiors, form an indispensable part of a young soldier’s merit.” “Ah! my dear,” said Mrs. Percy, looking up at her son anxiously, “if, even at this instant, even with us, even at the bare imagination of injustice, you take offence, I fear--I very much fear--” said she, laying her hand upon his arm. “My dearest mother,” said Godfrey, in a softened tone, taking his mother’s hand in the most respectful and tender manner, “fear nothing for me. I will be as patient as a lamb, rather than be a source of anxiety to you.” “And now, my good friends, fare ye well!” said Godfrey, turning to take leave of his sisters. The young soldier departed. His last words, as he got upon his horse, were to Caroline. “Caroline, you will be married before I return.”