's trembling gaze was met by the
depressing suggestion, "_What if you Was to Die To-night?_"

The ceiling was low, and the air already over-heated and
over-breathed. Flint was an epicure in the matter of air. He looked
longingly at the door, which offered the only method of escape. But he
had come for the evening, and he made up his mind to endure to the
end.

A Hindoo was speaking as they came in, shaking his white turban with
much vehemence, and waving his small delicate hands in the air as he
told of "The General's" work in India, and how he had been drawn by
the gospel (which he pronounced go-spell) to give up his rank in the
Brahmin caste, to wander over the world as an evangel.

"Queer," muttered Flint, "that every converted Hindoo was a Brahmin.
Booth seems to have had great luck with the aristocracy."

For a few moments the strangeness of the Hindoo's speech amused Flint;
then he grew bored, and finally irritated. He took out his watch,
looked at it conspicuously, then closed it with an audible click. If
there is a depressing sound on earth it is the click of a watch to the
ear of an orator. The speaker felt it, and looked round deprecatingly,
reflecting perhaps that however superior in morals, Occidentals have
something to learn of the Orientals in manners.

When the high-caste Hindoo sat down, there was much clapping of hands
and shaking of tambourines, and then to the tune of Daisy Bell rose a
chorus of,--

"Sinner, Sinner, give me your answer, do!"

Flint felt a convulsive twitching at the corner of his mouth, but he
had sworn to himself that he would betray no levity. Brady looked so
uncomfortable that his friend pitied him. There is much which disturbs
us, chiefly through the sensibility of others. At the end of the
singing, a man rose to tell of what the Army had done for him in
rescuing him from the gutter; but his legs were so unsteady and his
speech so frequently interrupted by hiccoughs that an audible titter
ran around the room, and there was great propriety in the song
following his remarks.

"If at first you don't succeed,
Try, try again."

The room grew hotter, the lights more trying, the bench harder. The
humor of the situation began to die out in Flint's mind, and gave way
to a wave of repulsion and of pity for his friend who was about to
condemn himself to these associations for life. His mind, which had
wandered from the scene around him, was recalled by the soun