“You will see it all here, boys, and as you know, the price is only one penny.”

By this time, the sergeant had let down one side of the box and discovered four round holes, and had arranged a low stool in front, for any of those, who were not tall enough to look through the glasses, to stand upon.  A considerable number of girls and boys had now gathered round, for Sergeant Wilks and his show were old, established favourites at Sidmouth, and the news of his arrival had travelled quickly round the place.

Four years before, he had appeared there for the first time, and since then had come every few months.  He travelled round the southwestern counties, Dorset and Wilts, Somerset, Devon, and Cornwall, and his cheery good temper made him a general favourite wherever he went.

He was somewhat of a martinet, and would have no crowding and pushing, and always made the boys stand aside till the girls had a good look; but he never hurried them, and allowed each an ample time to see the pictures, which were of a better class than those in most travelling peep shows.  There was some murmuring, at first, because the show contained none of the popular murders and blood-curdling scenes to which the people were accustomed.

“No,” the sergeant had said firmly, when the omission was suggested to him; “the young ones see quite enough scenes of drunkenness and fighting.  When I was a child, I remember seeing in a peep show the picture of a woman lying with her head nearly cut off, and her husband with a bloody chopper standing beside her; and it spoiled my sleep for weeks.  No, none of that sort of thing for Sergeant Wilks.  He has fought for his country, and has seen bloodshed enough in his time, and the ground half covered with dead and dying men; but that was duty—­this is pleasure.  Sergeant Wilks will show the boys and girls, who pay him their pennies, views in all parts of the world, such as would cost them thousands of pounds if they travelled to see them, and all as natural as life.  He will show them great battles by land and sea, where the soldiers and sailors shed their blood like water in the service of their country.  But cruel murders and notorious crimes he will not show them.”

It was not the boys and girls, only, who were the sergeant’s patrons.  Picture books were scarce in those days, and grown-up girls and young men were not ashamed to pay their pennies to peep into the sergeant’s box.

There was scarcely a farm house throughout his beat where he was not known and welcomed.  His care of the child, who, when he first came round, was but a year old, won the heart of the women; and a bowl of bread and milk for the little one, and a mug of beer and a hunch of bread and bacon for himself, were always at his service, before he opened his box and showed its wonders to the maids and children of the house.