s has taken
entire possession of me; journalism is an imposture; so is Literature;
so is Art. All India dropped out of sight yesterday and the rocking
pilot-brig at the Sandheads bore my last message to the prison that I
quit. We have reached blue water--crushed sapphire--and a little breeze
is bellying the awning. Three flying-fish were sighted this morning; the
tea at _chota-hazri_ is not nice, but the captain is excellent. Is this
budget of news sufficiently exciting, or must I in strict confidence
tell you the story of the Professor and the compass? You will hear more
about the Professor later, if, indeed, I ever touch pen again. When he
was in India he worked about nine hours a day. At noon to-day he
conceived an interest in cyclones and things of that kind--would go to
his cabin to get a compass and a meteorological book. He went, but
stopped to reflect by the brink of a drink. "The compass is in a box,"
said he, drowsily, "but the nuisance of it is that to get it I shall
have to pull the box out from under my berth. All things considered, I
don't think it's worth while." He loafed on deck, and I think by this
time is fast asleep. There was no trace of shame in his voice for his
mighty sloth. I would have reproved him, but the words died on my
tongue. I was guiltier than he.

"Professor," said I, "there is a foolish little paper in Allahabad
called the _Pioneer_. I am supposed to be writing it a letter--a letter
with my hands! Did you ever hear of anything so absurd?"

"I wonder if Angostura bitters really go with whisky," said the
Professor, toying with the neck of the bottle.

There is no such place as India; there never was a daily paper called
the _Pioneer_. It was all a weary dream. The only real things in the
world are crystal seas, clean-swept decks, soft rugs, warm sunshine, the
smell of salt in the air, and fathomless, futile indolence.

No. II

THE RIVER OF THE LOST FOOTSTEPS AND THE GOLDEN MYSTERY UPON ITS BANKS.
THE INIQUITY OF JORDAN. SHOWS HOW A MAN MAY GO TO THE SHWAY DAGON PAGODA
AND SEE IT NOT AND TO THE PEGU CLUB AND HEAR TOO MUCH. A DISSERTATION ON
MIXED DRINKS.

"I am a part of all that I have met,
Yet all experience is an arch where through
Gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move."

There was a river and a bar, a pilot and a great deal of nautical
mystery, and the Captain said the journey from Calcutta was ended and
t