"Sam," said he one day, as the invalid was sitting up in an easy-chair
at the window--"Sam, it's so long since I was at East Point that I'm
becoming more and more of a civilian. You army people begin to amuse
me. There's always something funny about you. The Tutonians are the
funniest of all. The little red-cheeked officers with their blond
mustaches turned up to their eyes are too funny to live. You feel like
kissing them and sending them to bed. And the airs they put on! One of
their soldiers happened to elbow a lieutenant the other day, and the
chap ran him through with his sword, and no one called him to account.
The officers jostle and browbeat any civilian who will submit to it,
and then try to get him into a duel, but I believe they're a cowardly
lot at bottom. No man of real courage would bluster all over the place
so."
"I admire their discipline," said Sam.
"And then there's the Franks. They're not quite so conceited, but
they're awfully touchy. I think the mustaches measure conceit. The
Tutonians' stick up straight, the Franks' stick right out at each side
waxed to a point, and ours droop downward."
Sam began to twist his mustache upward, but it would not stay.
"I was in to see a Frank military trial the other day," said Cleary.
"It was the most comical thing. There were three big generals on the
court. I mean big in rank.
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