quod, and your bones ache accordingly. To give quotations, as I have already said, would be ridiculous, but to those who fight shy of a book they know nothing about,.The Town-Ho's Story (as told at the Golden Inn, Lima), or the chapter entitled 'The Whiteness of the Whale,' may safely be recommended to timid beginners.

It will be curious to observe whether a generation of readers brought up on another kind of fare will repair the injustice done by their grandparents in

1851.

Here and there a page, or even a chapter, of The Whale may be skipped with comparative impunity, but nobody but a sea-gudgeon can ever be sent to sleep between its pages. 'And whereas all the other things, whether beast or vessel, that enter into the dreadful gulf of the whale's mouth, are immediately lost and swallowed up, the sea-gudgeon retires into it in great security and there sleeps' (Montaigne in his Apology for Raimond de Sebonne).

We're not as 'gudgeons' are;
Smith, take a fresh cigar!
Jones, the tobacco-jar!

Here's to thee, 'Melville'!

[Punch]

THE WARDROBE

BY E. V. LUCAS

ONCE upon a time, there was a wardrobe in which a man's clothes were kept, the coats and waistcoats hanging over wooden shoulders and the trousers from clips. It was large enough for all his various suits, morning and evening; and they were all on fairly good terms with each other, even if the Harris tweeds were a little clannish and the frock-coat a little superior. This was because the frock-coat had been to a garden party at Buckingham Palace; for the owner of the clothes, you must

know, was what is called a man about town, who had time and opportunity to do the correct thing.

The oldest suit in the wardrobe was one of the Harris tweeds. It had been there for fifteen years and was still worn on holidays. Its age and its Scottish sagacity made it the natural head of the company, and its advice was often asked; but, owing to the difficulty of following its Highland accent, was taken only by accident.

It was an exciting moment for the clothes every morning, when their master opened the door and took out a pair of trousers. He always took the trousers first, and the coat and waistcoat a few minutes later; but the choice of the trousers told what the coat and waistcoat would be. In these few minutes there was no end of chatter.

'Hullo! it's golf to-day,' the others would say, as the knickerbockers disappeared. Or 'A luncheon party, I think,' if it were one of the pairs of trousers worn with the frock-coat.

'I hope there'll be some nice dresses to talk to, the frock-coat would say, if it were his turn. Sometimes the waistcoat would be left behind, and then they would know it was a wedding, and one of the white waistcoats would be needed.

'I don't care much for weddings,' said the frock-coat. 'Although there's always a lot of company, it's usually too new to be interesting, straight from the tailor's and the dressmaker's. But

what I most resent is the confetti.'

'Ay, man,' a Harris tweed replied, 'that's where we hae the advantage over you. Rain, snow, hail, confetti, rice it's all one to us. We're the only sensible practical suitings amang ye. But it's awfu' seeing the guid wholesome rice being wasted.'

'Economy! what a boring theme!' a fancy waistcoat remarked.

It was, also, always an exciting mo

the

and

ment when a new suit was hung in the wardrobe, because the new clothes brought tidings of the tailor's old homestead, so to speak there were countless questions as to who had cut it, who had stitched it, what changes there were in the staff, and so on.

In the evening, when their master came back, the excitement was confined to the dress-suit and the dinner-suitwhich would it be? Would there be beautiful dresses, and, therefore, the long tails and white waistcoat, or just men only and a dinner-jacket? Not that other men's clothes are so dull: dinnerjacket can have a vast deal of gossip to retail to dinner-jacket; but full fig is more amusing. You see, some of the new gowns have delicious Parisian scandal to unfold, and the less discreet can even be counted upon for revelations of their wearers. It was well to keep in with daddy long-tails, as he was called, if you wanted to have these stories repeated to you.

As the week wore on, another excitement developed, for the great question which then began to exercise the clothes was-Is he going away from Saturday to Monday, or not? And, if so, what will he take?' The actual packing, they did not like at all; being jammed together in a bag is no joke; but it was all right when they were unpacked amid the new surroundings. It was interesting, too, to see what kind of valets or maids there were, and if they were rougher with the brush than their own James was, or more gentle. James had a savage way of castigating them.

But when I say that all the clothes were agitated by this week-end problem, I am wrong. There were, of course, those that were out of season they knew that their time could not come again just yet and there was the pair of black trousers at the back, which

And then, one day, the man died, himself, although the clothes did not know for quite a long while that this had happened. He had often been ill before and had not needed them, and this might be the case now. They wondered exceedingly what was going on, but James never came near, and so there was no chance of discovering by asking his coat. Ordinarily, they liked it when James (and his brush) stayed away, but not this time.

It is a terrible day for wardrobes when their owners die, and they fall into the hands of the people who buy such things. I say 'buy,' but that is a slip: ladies' and gentlemen's wardrobes are not bought, as any advertisement column will tell you: they are purchased. These clothes were the perquisites of James, who, being a little brisk, fattish man, had no personal use for any of them, and so he transferred the whole lot to a dealer who snuffled through his nose, and had a Platonic love for Palestine.

It was then that their agonies set in. They were marked at prices disgracefully below their cost; they were handled and tried on; they were depreciated by intending purchasers and extolled without any truth at all by the dealer, who said that they had been the property of a Duke who was moving to the tropics; they were bargained over, and at last sold. And that was not the worst, for many of them were altered. Only the Harris tweeds were happy. They did not care who wore them so long as they were worn and were out in the open air again.

THE first pale pink streaks of dawn were showing when my 'boy' woke me up, by dumping down by the bedside my early morning cup of tea and slice of paw-paw (which in Bananaland is always pronounced 'papie'), and by rolling up the mosquito curtains. I wondered, drowsily, why he had called me so early, for in station I rose much later than this, and concluded sleepily that it must be the dusturi of the household of which, for the time being, I formed part. It so happened that I had been posted to another station, and was due to leave in two days' time, so that I had packed up and vacated my bungalow, and was now sheltering, for a few days, under the hospitable roof of the Director of Transport.

As I started to sip my tea, I noticed the boy was busily engaged digging in my uniform tins and extracting my full-dress white uniform, and the sight of this pricked my drowsy head wide awake. I now remembered why I was being called at dawn, and realized that I had a hectic day in front of me, and I was more than ever reluctant to get up, as I reflected that the next dawn would not be far off before I got into bed again. Subsequent events confirmed this.

This morning's sun heralded a day of days, not only in Bananaland, but throughout the Empire, and we were all determined that, situated though we were in the heart of Darkest Africa, none the less there should be no lack of pomp and circumstance and rejoicing. The official programme started with a

thanksgiving service at the churches of all denominations. His excellency the governor, accompanied by his staff and the heads of departments, would attend divine service at the cathedral, arriving by car from headquarters, and those official residents in the station who were not detailed to represent the government at the churches of other denominations would also attend the cathedral service, as would, of course, the European non-official residents as well as the multitudes of native Christians who belonged to the Established Church. Then would follow a review of the troops by H.E. on the Coronation Ground, after which he would hold a levee, for which purpose a fine grass banda had been built behind the flagstaff, at the saluting point. It had been beautifully done, partly, by station labor under the orders of the district commissioner, and, partly, by natives under the orders of the Lukiko (the native Parliament of the Kingdom).

Next in the programme figured a semi-official lunch to H.E., given by my host, who was an old personal friend of his, and the afternoon was to be filled up with sports for the troops, police and bakopi (peasantry). The pièce de résistance was to be a miniature Marathon race from Luzera, the lake port, nine miles off, to the winning post on the Coronation Ground. After tea, H.E. would motor back to headquarters in time for the big dinner and bigger ball at Government House. There were to be fireworks during the course of the evening, both at headquarters

and here in Mengo, and bonfires were to be lighted on prominent hills throughout the countryside. For weeks past, under orders of the various assistant district commissioners, the local chiefs and their head-men had been seeing to the clearing of spaces on suitable hilltops, and the collecting and stacking of brushwood and logs. Great care had to be taken that the ground was well cleared for a good radius round each bonfire, in order to avoid the risk of a bush fire.

As regards my own personal programme, I had been detailed to represent the government at the Roman Catholic cathedral service of the White Fathers' Mission, and, after service, I was to escort the Father Superior to the review and levee. For the rest of the day, I was a free man. My host had invited me to meet the governor at the lunch he was giving, and after that meal I was going to bicycle the twentyfive miles in to headquarters in company with a subaltern of the King's African Rifles, as we were both to stay with friends and go on to the ball. I was to return by motor the next day.

So much for the future. Having quickly run through the programme in my mind, I set about getting up and dressed, and by the time I had climbed into uniform, the boy came to tell me breakfast was ready on the veranda overlooking the valley, where the sun was now striking warm on the green foliage of the banana plantations, and the smoke was curling up from the Nubi settlement at Kololo on the far hillside, while toward the lake, on the right, the mist still hung over the swamps. So far, there was no sound of my host stirring, for he was not going to office before kirk, and then he had not so far to go as I, as he was going to the English cathedral service. I should explain that the township of Mengo, comprising offices, shops, the Indian

bazaar and quarter, lies in the valley, while the hills encircling it are appropriated for Missions and residential quarters. Thus, the Kabaka and the Court live on one, officials on another, the C.M.S. on a third, the White Fathers' and Mill Hill Missions, yet elsewhere. Each Mission has its own church on its own hill, built by native converts as a labor of love under their pastor's guidance. The finest edifice at one time was the cathedral at Namirembe, built of sun-dried bricks, reedwork, and thatch, of which the special feature was the reed-work inside the high vaulted roof - the whole a very fine sample of native workmanship; but most unfortunately it was struck by lightning during one of the frequent thunderstorms that sweep across that part of the country, the roof broke into a blaze, and in spite of the utmost exertions of the Mission, the police, and the troops, the building was completely gutted. After this calamity, the palm remained to the White Fathers, who had a fine cathedral built on similar lines. To this one I was presently to go.

While I consumed bacon and eggs on the cool veranda, the rickshaw which I had chartered for the morning, with its four attendant boys, arrived, and the latter, remarking 'Jambo, Bwana,' that is, 'Greeting, master,' squatted down on their hunkers, until I should be ready to start. So, presently, in full glory of white duck and helmet, gold shoulder-straps and sword-knot, and glossy patent leather, I started off amid the jeers of my host, who had come out to drink his tea on the veranda. However, as he would soon be similarly disguised, I uttered something oracular about the pot calling the kettle black, and told the grinning boys to 'Genda mangu' in other words, to go quickly, for I had an hour's work to do in office before I set off to kirk.

For the benefit of the uninitiated, let me say, here, that a rickshaw is a two-wheeled chariot to contain one or two persons, according to its size. Like a perambulator, it has a collapsible hood to keep sun or rain off the occupants, and its motive power consists of a team of four natives, one of whom pulls in front at the end of a pair of long shafts, and the other three push behind. All are leather-lunged, and many of them good and willing goers. They reduce clothing to a minimum a pair of khaki shorts, a thin cotton vest and a rag, carried to mop themselves at intervals, is all they are burdened with no boots, no puttees. To encourage each other, they sing nearly the whole time they are on the run. The leader (usually known as the nyampara) sets the tune and sings the verse the three behind merely jointing in at regular intervals with a deepthroated chant by way of chorus. The theme is usually one of poignant human interest about the manners, morals and peculiarities of the passengers at the moment in the rickshaw, which is sung in alto with a nasal howl flung in now and again to emphasize a pithy line of the saga. As the subjects of the ode are usually unacquainted with the particular dialect in which it is sung, nothing untoward, as a rule, occurs, though listeners sometimes wonder why passers-by may grin and shout at the singers, as the melody reaches their ears. On the other hand, it sometimes happens that the fare who is being serenaded does understand the language of the song, and a sharp whack with a kiboko and a few well-chosen words cut it short, though the singers are no whit abashed, but chuckle heartily among themselves at being caught out, and start again on some other and less personal and controversial theme. However

to revert to our mut

tons-my boys jolted me along the grass track past the M.O.'s house on to the main road, past the mud tennis courts, and sped down the hill to the boma where my office was. There, they deposited me, and while I busily signed papers and ran through correspondence, I heard them chattering outside, and chaffing, in' kitchen' Swahili, the reliefs of the sepoy guard over the treasury.

As I worked, bells began to peal on the various Mission hills, rickshaws passed to and fro, and pedestrians streamed along. I looked out, and saw Goanese families decked out in their best the women-folk and children with bright-hued hats and blouses packed into rickshaws, and the men with straw hats or jaunty felts, the most wonderful ties, and bright yellow boots - tramping along, chattering hard, all on their way to Mass. Native Christians in clean white caps and kanzus, and often, alas! boots or shoes many sizes too large for them, clopped along numbers wearing over the kanzu (or robe) an old European jacket, from a buttonhole of which might be seen dangling a silver watch chain, the hall-mark of substance and respectability. Mingling with them in the crowd were Mohammedans, usually distinguishable by the red fezes they wore, on their way to answer the summons of the mualim calling from the mosque tower in the Indian quarter. I heard the guard called up to attention, caught the glimpse of uniform in a passing rickshaw, and realized that it behooved me to get a move on or I should be late at my rendezvous: so, having locked up the office safe, I dusted my shining Wellingtons, of which I was rather proud, and passed out to continue my jolting journey.

The bearded naik of the guard shook his head with resigned sadness as I passed him a word of sympathy, in Urdu, that he and his men were on