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appetite； the Lion received him； as usual； with a hospitable
welcome； and treated him with those marks of distinction； which；
as a regular customer； and one within the freemasonry of the
trade； he had a right to claim。
This Lion or landlord；—for he was called both man and beast；
by reason of his having instructed the artist who painted his sign；
to convey into the features of the lordly brute whose effigy it bore；
as near a counterpart of his own face as his skill could compass
and devise；—was a gentleman almost as quick of apprehension；
and of almost as subtle a wit； as the mighty John himself。 But the
difference between them lay in this： that whereas Mr Willet’s
extreme sagacity and acuteness were the efforts of unassisted
nature； the Lion stood indebted； in no small amount； to beer； of
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which he swigged such copious draughts； that most of his faculties
were utterly drowned and washed away； except the one great
faculty of sleep； which he retained in surprising perfection。 The
creaking Lion over the house…door was； therefore； to say the truth；
rather a drowsy； tame； and feeble lion； and as these social
representatives of a savage class are usually of a conventional
character （being depicted； for the most part； in impossible
attitudes and of unearthly colours）； he was frequently supposed by
the more ignorant and uninformed among the neighbours； to be
the veritable portrait of the host as he appeared on the occasion of
some great funeral ceremony or public mourning。
‘What noisy fellow is that in the next room？’ said Joe； when he
had disposed of his breakfast； and had washed and brushed
himself。
‘A recruiting serjeant；’ replied the Lion。
Joe started involuntarily。 Here was the very thing he had been
dreaming of； all the way along。
‘And I wish；’ said the Lion； ‘he was anywhere else but here。 The
party make noise enough； but don’t call for much。 There’s great
cry there； Mr Willet； but very little wool。 Your father wouldn’t like
’em； I know。’
Perhaps not much under any circumstances。 Perhaps if he
could have known what was passing at that moment in Joe’s mind；
he would have liked them still less。
‘Is he recruiting for a—for a fine regiment？’ said Joe； glancing
at a little round mirror that hung in the bar。
‘I believe he is；’ replied the host。 ‘It’s much the same thing；
whatever regiment he’s recruiting for。 I’m told there an’t a deal of
difference between a fine man and another one； when they’re shot
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through and through。’
‘They’re not all shot；’ said Joe。
‘No；’ the Lion answered； ‘not all。 Those that are—supposing it’s
done easy—are the best off in my opinion。’
‘Ah！’ retorted Joe； ‘but you don’t care for glory。’
‘For what？’ said the Lion。
‘Glory。’
‘No；’ returned the Lion； with supreme indifference。 ‘I don’t。
You’re right in that； Mr Willet。 When Glory comes here； and calls
for anything to drink and changes a guinea to pay for it； I’ll give it
him for nothing。 It’s my belief； sir； that the Glory’s arms wouldn’t
do a very strong business。’
These remarks were not at all comforting。 Joe walked out；
stopped at the door of the next room； and listened。 The serjeant
was describing a military life。 It was all drinking； he said； except
that there were frequent intervals of eating and love…making。 A
battle was the finest thing in the world—when your side won it—
and Englishmen always did that。 ‘Supposing you should be killed；
sir？’ said a timid voice in one corner。 ‘Well； sir； supposing you
should be；’ said the serjeant； ‘what then？ Your country loves you；
sir； his Majesty King George the Third loves you； your memory is
honoured； revered； respected； everybody’s fond of you； and
grateful to you； your name’s wrote down at full length in a book in
the War Office。 Damme； gentlemen； we must all die some time； or
another； eh？’
The voice coughed； and said no more。
Joe walked into the room。 A group of half…a…dozen fellows had
gathered together in the taproom； and were listening with greedy
ears。 One of them； a carter in a smock frock； seemed wavering and
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disposed to enlist。 The rest； who were by no means disposed；
strongly urged him to do so （according to the custom of mankind）；
backed the serjeant’s arguments； and grinned among themselves。
‘I say nothing； boys；’ said the serjeant； who sat a little apart；
drinking his liquor。 ‘For lads of spirit’—here he cast an eye on
Joe—‘this is the time。 I don’t want to inveigle you。 The king’s not
come to that； I hope。 Brisk young blood is what we want； not milk
and water。 We won’t take five men out of six。 We want top…
sawyers； we do。 I’m not a…going to tell tales out of school； but；
damme； if every gentleman’s son that carries arms in our corps；
through being under a cloud and having little differences with his
relations； was counted up’—here his eye fell on Joe again； and so
good…naturedly； that Joe beckoned him out。 He came directly。
‘You’re a gentleman； by G—！’ was his first remark； as he
slapped him on the back。 ‘You’re a gentleman in disguise。 So am I。
Let’s swear a friendship。’
Joe didn’t exactly do that； but he shook hands with him； and
thanked him for his good opinion。
‘You want to serve；’ said his new friend。 ‘You shall。 You were
made for it。 You’re one of us by nature。 What’ll you take to drink？’
‘Nothing just now；’ replied Joe； smiling faintly。 ‘I haven’t quite
made up my mind。’
‘A mettlesome fellow like you； and not made up his mind！’ cried
the serjea