rrespondence with all the chief literary men of the day. With so
conspicuous a reputation, he believed it necessary to do something in
religion. So he gave up religion, and allowed it to be understood that
he was a man of advanced views: a Positivist, a Buddhist, or something
equally occult. Thus he became ripe for the highest employment, and
was placed successively on a number of Special Commissions. He
inquired into everything; he wrote hundredweights of reports; he
proved himself to have the true paralytic ink flux, precisely the kind
of wordy discharge or brain haemorrhage required of a high official in
India. He would write ten pages where a clod-hopping collector would
write a sentence. He could say the same thing over and over again in a
hundred different ways. The feeble forms of official satire were at
his command. [He could bray ironically at subordinate officers. He had
the inborn arrogance required for official "snubbing." Being without a
ray of good feeling or modesty, he could allow himself to write with
ceremonial rudeness of men who in his inmost heart he knew to be in
every way his superiors.] He desired exceedingly to be thought
supercilious, and he thus became almost necessary to the Government of
India, was canonised, and caught up to Simla. The Indian papers
chanted little anthems, "the Services" said "Amen," and the apotheosis
was felt to be a success. On reaching Simla he was found to be
familiar with the two local "jokes," planted many years ago by some
jackass. One of these "jokes" is about everything in India having its
peculiar smell, except a flower; the second is some inanity about the
Indian Government being a despotism of despatch-boxes tempered by the
loss of the keys. He often emitted these mournful "jokes" until he was
declared to be an acquisition to Simla society.

Such is the man I am with to-day. His house is beautifully situated,
overlooking a deep ravine, full of noble pine-trees, and surrounded by
rhododendrons. The verandah is gay with geraniums and tall servants in
Imperial red deeply encrusted with gold. Within, all is very
respectable and nice, only the man is--not exactly vile, but certainly
imperfect in a somewhat conspicuous degree. With the more attractive
forms of sin he has no true sympathy. I can strike no concord with him
on this umbrageous side of nature. I am seriously shocked to discover
this, for he affects infirmity; but his humanity is weak. In his
character I p