Compared with them the lilies
of the field are as lilies in the bulb. Their collars are higher,
their ties are more resplendent, their frock coats more floppy as
to the tail and more flappy as to the lapel, than it is possible
to imagine until you have seen it all with your own wondering eyes.
They are haughty creatures, too, austere and full of a starchy
dignity; but when you come to pay your bill you find at least one
of them lined up with the valet and the waiter, the manservant and
the maidservant, the ox and the ass, hand out and palm open to get
his tip. Having tipped him you depart feeling ennobled and uplifted
- as though you had conferred a purse of gold on a marquis.
Chapter XI
Dressed to Kill
With us it is the dress of the women that gives life and color to
the shifting show of street life. In Europe it is the soldier,
and in England the private soldier particularly. The German private
soldier is too stiff, and the French private soldier is too limber,
and the Italian private soldier has been away from the dry-cleanser's
too long; but the British Tommy Atkins is a perfect piece of work
- what with his dinky cap tilted over one eye, and his red tunic
that fits him without blemish or wrinkle, and his snappy little
swagger stick flirting the air. As a picture of a first-class
fighting man I know of but one to match him, and that is a khaki-clad,
service-hatted Yankee regular - long may he wave!
There may be something finer in the way of a military spectacle
than the change of horse-guards at Whitehall or the march of the
foot-guards across the green in St. James' Park on a fine, bright
morning - but I do not know what it is. One day, passing Buckingham
Palace, I came on a footguard on duty in one of the little sentry
boxes just outside the walls. He did not look as though he were
alive. He looked as though he had been stuffed and mounted by a
most expert taxidermist. From under his bearskin shako and from
over his brazen chin-strap his face stared out unwinking and solemn
and barren of thought.
I said to myself: "It is taking a long chance, but I shall ascertain
whether this party has any human emotions." So I halted directly
in front of him and began staring fixedly at his midriff as though
I saw a button unfastened there or a buckle disarranged. For a
space of minutes I kept my gaze on him without cessation.
Finally the situation grew painful; but it was not that British
grenadier who grew embarrassed and fidgety - it was the other party
to the transaction.
