ras
with which they shot the departing couple from the stone buttresses.
Lady Curzon was in soft silk and muslin crepe-de-chine, I think, a
colour between pale green and violet, possibly a little of both. It was
a very pretty dress and with a parasol to match. They went down the
steps and the red carpet to the cheers of people on the pier. This
effective carpet with the white edge has figured a good deal lately in
various ceremonies; the Prince and Princess went up and down it, and
Viceroys and Vicereines, and many Generals and Maharajahs. It ought to
be preserved by the municipality.

I thought I'd condescend just for once to try a photo on this occasion,
as Lord Curzon went down the steps to the tender, and I believe I lost
in consequence, by the fraction of a second, a mental picture that I'd
have treasured for the rest of my days and have possibly reduced to
paint. Just as the whole scene was coming to a point when the least
movement on the part of the principal figures one way or the other would
take away from the effect; when Lord Curzon turned on the landing in the
middle of the steps to say farewell, I had to look down at my pesky
little camera to pull the trigger! So my mind is left blank just where I
know there should be a telling arrangement, just such a moment as that
painted in "The Spears," the Breda picture, where the principal actors
and the others are caught in the very nick of time--the camera will now
rest on the shelf beside a rhyming dictionary and the Encyclopaedia
Britannica.

Lord Curzon said a few words to the people near him before going down
the last steps into the launch, and it in the meantime gently and
perseveringly smoked the ticket-holders on the buttress of the pier
opposite us; and we ticket-holders and G. P. on our buttress smiled at
their pained expressions--our time was to come. It stopped smoking, held
its breath as it were, and came slowly under us, and Lady Curzon looked
up from under the awning in the stern with a charming smile, and all our
topees came off or white gloved hands went up in salute to beautiful
white helmets--and our turn came!--the launch gave a snort, and we felt
a pleasant, cool rain from condensed steam, and thought it refreshing as
it fell on our faces. Then we grinned as we looked at our neighbours;
and then realized that we too were black as sweeps, topees, white
helmets, and uniforms all covered with a fine black oily rain. I've a
new topee to charge aga