To the medical student, to the eater of dinners at the Temple, to the subaltern on leave, life in London is a wearisome proceeding.

The healthy Briton takes his pleasure lawlessly, or it is no pleasure to him.

Nothing that he may do affords to him any genuine satisfaction.

To be in trouble of some sort is his only idea of bliss.

Now, England affords him small opportunity in this respect; to get himself into a scrape requires a good deal of persistence on the part of the young Englishman.
I spoke on this subject one day with our senior churchwarden.