The Burning Spear: Being the Experiences of Mr. John Lavender in the Time of WarGalsworthy, John
General
The Burning Spear: Being the Experiences of Mr. John Lavender in the Time of War
Galsworthy, John
World War, 1914-1918 -- Humor, caricatures, etc.
These words, which completed the soldiers' conviction that Mr. Lavender
was not quite all there, caused them to rise.
“Come on, then,” said one; “we'll see each other home. We've got to be
in by five. You don't have a string to your dog, I see.”
“Oh no!” said Mr. Lavender puzzled “I am not blind.”
“Balmy,” said the soldier soothingly. “Come on, sir, an' we can talk
abaht it on the way.”
Mr. Lavender, delighted at the impression he had made, rose and walked
beside them, taking insensibly the direction for home.
“What do you advise us to do, then, guv'nor?” said one of the soldiers.
“Throw away all thought of the present,” returned Mr. Lavender, with
intense earnestness; “forget the past entirely, wrap yourselves wholly
in the future. Do nothing which will give you immediate satisfaction.
Do not consider your families, or any of those transient considerations
such as pleasure, your homes, your condition of health, or your economic
position; but place yourselves unreservedly in the hands of those who by
hard thinking on this subject are alone in the condition to appreciate
the individual circumstances of each of you. For only by becoming a
flock of sheep can you be conducted into those new pastures where the
grass of your future will be sweet and plentiful. Above all, continue to
be the heroes which you were under the spur of your country's call, for
you must remember that your country is still calling you.”
“That's right,” said the soldier on Mr. Lavender's left. “Puss, puss!
Does your dog swot cats?”
At so irrelevant a remark Mr. Lavender looked suspiciously from left to
right, but what there was of the soldiers' faces told him nothing.
“Which is your hospital?” he asked.
“Down the 'ill, on the right,” returned the soldier. “Which is yours?”
“Alas! it is not in a hospital that I——”
“I know,” said the soldier delicately, “don't give it a name; no need.
We're all friends 'ere. Do you get out much?”
“I always take an afternoon stroll,” said Mr. Lavender, “when my public
life permits. If you think your comrades would like me to come and
lecture to them on their future I should be only too happy.”
“D'you 'ear, Alf?” said the soldier. “D'you think they would?”
The soldier, addressed put a finger to the sound side of his mouth and
uttered a catcall.
“I might effect a radical change in their views,” continued Mr.
Lavender, a little puzzled. “Let me leave you this periodical. Read it,
and you will see how extremely vital all that I have been saying is. And
then, perhaps, if you would send me a round robin, such as is usual in
a democratic country, I could pop over almost any day after five. I
sometimes feel”—and here Mr. Lavender stopped in the middle of the road,
overcome by sudden emotion—“that I have really no right to be alive when
I see what you have suffered for me.”
“That's all right, old bean,”, said the soldier on his left; “you'd 'a
done the same for us but for your disabilities. We don't grudge it you.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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