n for longer, Mr. William
Smith became the mentor to whom I owed the most of such urban
sophistication as I acquired. He was a very kindly and practical
mentor, worldly, but in many respects not a bad adviser for such a lad
so situated. When I recall the stark ugliness of his views and advice
to me regarding a young man's needs and attitude generally where the
opposite sex was concerned, I suppose I must admit that a moralist
would have viewed my tutor with horror. But, particularly at that
period, I am not sure that the average man of the world, in any walk
of life, would have differed very much from Mr. Smith in this
particular matter. One could imagine some quite worthy colonels of
regiments giving not wholly dissimilar counsel to a youngster, I
think.

Morning and evening Mr. Smith applied some sort of cosmetic to his
fine grey moustache, which kept its ends like needles. He always wore
white or biscuit-coloured waistcoats, and was scrupulously particular
about his linen. He generally had an air of being fresh from his bath.
His thin hair was never disarranged, and his mood seemed to be
cheerfully serene. Summer heats drew plentiful perspiration from him,
but no sign of languor or irritation. On Sunday mornings he stayed in
bed till ten-thirty, with the _Sydney Bulletin_, and on the stroke of
eleven o'clock he invariably entered the church at the corner of Mill
Street. I used to marvel greatly at this, because he never missed his
bath, and his Sunday morning appearance gave the impression that his
toilet had received the most elaborate attention. He carried an ivory
crutch-handled malacca walking-stick, and in church I used to think of
him as closely resembling Colonel Newcome. His voice was a mellow
baritone, he never missed any of the responses; and the odour which
hung about him of soap and water, cosmetic, light yellow kid gloves,
and good tobacco--he smoked a golden plug, very superior to my cheap,
dark stuff--seemed to me at that time richly suggestive of luxury,
sophistication, distinction, and knowledge of affairs.

Many years have passed since I set eyes on Mr. Smith, and no doubt he
has long since been gathered to his fathers; but I believe I am right
in saying that his was a rather remarkable character. I know now that
he really was a dipsomaniac of a somewhat unusual kind. At ordinary
times he touched no stimulant of any sort. But at intervals of about
three months he disappeared, quite regularly and m