egiance. Sometimes we have an election for mayor; it is like a
census but very abusive, and Red always wins. Only citizens with two
legs and at least one arm and capable of standing up may vote, and
voters may poll on horseback; boy scouts and women and children do not
vote, though there is a vigorous agitation to remove these
disabilities. Zulus and foreign-looking persons, such as East Indian
cavalry and American Indians, are also disfranchised. So are riderless
horses and camels; but the elephant has never attempted to vote on any
occasion, and does not seem to desire the privilege. It influences
public opinion quite sufficiently as it is by nodding its head.

We have set out and I have photographed one of our cities to illustrate
more clearly the amusement of the game. Red End is to the reader's
right, and includes most of the hill on which the town stands, a shady
zoological garden, the town hall, a railway tunnel through the hill, a
museum (away in the extreme right-hand corner), a church, a rifle
range, and a shop. Blue End has the railway station, four or five
shops, several homes, a hotel, and a farm-house, close to the railway
station. The boundary drawn by me as overlord (who also made the hills
and tunnels and appointed the trees to grow) runs irregularly between
the two shops nearest the cathedral, over the shoulder in front of the
town hall, and between the farm and the rifle range.

The nature of the hills I have already explained, and this time we have
had no lakes or ornamental water. These are very easily made out of a
piece of glass--the glass lid of a box for example--laid upon silver
paper. Such water becomes very readily populated by those celluloid
seals and swans and ducks that are now so common. Paper fish appear
below the surface and may be peered at by the curious. But on this
occasion we have nothing of the kind, nor have we made use of a
green-colored tablecloth we sometimes use to drape our hills. Of
course, a large part of the fun of this game lies in the witty
incorporation of all sorts of extraneous objects. But the incorporation
must be witty, or you may soon convert the whole thing into an
incoherent muddle of half-good ideas.

I have taken two photographs, one to the right and one to the left of
this agreeable place. I may perhaps adopt a kind of guide-book style in
reviewing its principal features: I begin at the railway station. I
have made a rather nearer and larger photograph of