"None the worse for that," said Bland kindly. "But they _are_ a bit peculiar. I've read up quite a lot of military history and I don't recollect a single case in which two hostile armies patrolled the streets of the same city without firing a shot at one another. By the way, have you been out?" "Not since this afternoon," I said. "It would be quite worth your while to take a stroll round," said Bland. "There's not the slightest risk and you may never have a chance of seeing anything like it again." I quite agreed with Bland. The odds are, I suppose, thousands to one against my ever again seeing two hostile armies walking up and down opposite sides of the street. I got my hat and we went out together. We were almost immediately stopped by a body of lancers. Their leader asked us who we were and where we were going. "Press correspondents," said Bland, "on our way to the telegraph office." This impressed the officer. He allowed us to go on without ordering his men to impale us. I was glad of this. I am not particularly afraid of being killed, but I would rather meet my end by a sword cut or a bullet than by a lance. I should feel like a wild pig if a lancer speared me. No one could die with dignity and self-respect if he felt like a wild pig while he was passing away. "In ordinary wars," said Bland, "the best thing to say is that you are a doctor attached to the Ambulance Corps. But that's no use here. These fellows don't want doctors!" Then we met a party of volunteers. They stopped us too, and challenged us very sternly. Bland gave his answer. This time it did not prove wholly satisfactory. "Protestant or Papist?" said the officer in command. "Neither," said Bland, "I'm a high caste Brahmin." Fortunately I recognized the officer's voice. It was Crossan who commanded this particular regiment. It never was safe, even in the quietest times, to be flippant with Crossan. On a night like that and under the existing circumstances, Bland might very well have been knocked on the head for his joke if I had not come to his rescue. "Crossan," I said, "don't make a fuss. Mr. Bland and I are simply taking a walk round the streets." "If he's a Papist," said Crossan, "he'll have to go home to his bed. Them's my orders. We don't want rioting in the streets to-night." I turned to Bland. "What is your religion?" I asked. "Haven't any," he said. "I haven't believed any doctrine taught by any Church since I was six years old. Will that satisfy you?" "I was afeard," said Crossan, "that you might be a Papist. You can go on." This shows, I think, that the charges of bigotry and intolerance brought against our Northern Protestants are quite unfounded. Crossan had no wish to persecute even a professed atheist.