. The story of a short life . gger than you. Men? Men. Men hurt like me, or wounded in battle ? Wounded in battle. Poor things ! Did they die ? Some of them. I shall die pretty soon, I believe. I meant to die young, butmore grown-up than this, and in battle. About your age, I think. Howold are you ? I shall be twenty-five in October. Thats rather old. I meant about Uncle Ruperts age. He diedin battle. He was seventeen. You carry very comfortably. Now weresafe ! Put me on the yellow sofa, please. I want all the cushions, be-cause of my back. Its because of my back, you know, that I cantgrow up
. The story of a short life . gger than you. Men? Men. Men hurt like me, or wounded in battle ? Wounded in battle. Poor things ! Did they die ? Some of them. I shall die pretty soon, I believe. I meant to die young, butmore grown-up than this, and in battle. About your age, I think. Howold are you ? I shall be twenty-five in October. Thats rather old. I meant about Uncle Ruperts age. He diedin battle. He was seventeen. You carry very comfortably. Now weresafe ! Put me on the yellow sofa, please. I want all the cushions, be-cause of my back. Its because of my back, you know, that I cantgrow up into a soldier. I dont think I possibly can. Soldiers do haveto have such very straight backs, and Jemima thinks mine will never bestraight again on this side the grave. So Ive got to try and be braveas I am ; and thats why I wanted to see you. Do you mind my talkingrather more than you? I have so very much to say, and Ive only aquarter of an hour, because of its being long past my bed-time, and a good lot of that has gone: E. Let me carry you, little friend, and well run away together, and the company will say,There goes a running away from a Poll Parrot in a lace shawl !—Page 49. TIS GOOD FOR MEN TO LOVE THEIR PRESENT PAINS, 51 Please talk, and let me listen. Thank you. Pat The Sweep again, please. He thinks wereneglecting him. Thats why he gets up and knocks you with his head. Poor Sweep ! Good old dog ! Thank you. Now should you think that if I am very good, andnot cross about a lot of pain in my back and my head—really a goodlot—that that would count up to be as brave as having one wound if Idbeen a soldier? Certainly. Mother says it would, and I think it might. Not a very bigwound, of course, but a poke with a spear, or something of that is very bad sometimes, particularly when it keeps you awake atnight. My little friend, that would count for lying out all night woundedon the field when the battles over. Soldiers are not always fighting. Did you ever l
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, booksubjectchildre, bookyear1887
