Put out the stars, turn off the sun, suspend the laws of
nature. Mr. Jack and Mrs. Jill, coming down the hill--what they
were doing on the hill we will not inquire--have slipped over a
stone, placed there surely by the evil powers of the universe. Mr.
Jack and Mrs. Jill have bumped their silly heads. Mr. Jack and Mrs.
Jill have hurt their little hearts, and stand marvelling that the
world can go about its business in the face of such disaster.
Don't take the matter quite so seriously, Jack and Jill. You have
spilled your happiness, you must toil up the hill again and refill
the pail. Carry it more carefully next time. What were you doing?
Playing some fool's trick, I'll be bound.
A laugh and a sigh, a kiss and good-bye, is our life. Is it worth
so much fretting? It is a merry life on the whole. Courage,
comrade. A campaign cannot be all drum and fife and stirrup-cup.
The marching and the fighting must come into it somewhere. There
are pleasant bivouacs among the vineyards, merry nights around the
camp fires. White hands wave a welcome to us; bright eyes dim at
our going. Would you run from the battle-music? What have you to
complain of? Forward: the medal to some, the surgeon's knife to
others; to all of us, sooner or later, six feet of mother earth.
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