orking mighty changes in the affairs
of man, soon transported our hero from Mrs Pry's dingy little back
parlour in London to the luxuriant wilds of Africa.

There, on the evening of a splendid day, he sat down to rest under the
grateful shade of an umbrageous tree, in company with Major Garret and
Lieutenant Wilkins, both of whom had turned out to be men after Tom
Brown's own heart. They were both bronzed strapping warriors, and had
entered those regions not only with a view to hunting lions, but also
for the purpose of making collections of the plants and insects of the
country, the major being a persevering entomologist, while the
lieutenant was enthusiastically botanical. To the delight of these
gentlemen they found that Tom, although not deeply learned on these
subjects, was nevertheless extremely intelligent and appreciative.

The major was very tall, thin; strong, wiry, and black-bearded. The
lieutenant was very short, thickset, deep-chested, and powerful. Tom
himself was burly, ruddy, broad, and rather above middle size.

"Now this is what I call real felicity," observed the major, pulling out
a pipe which he proceeded to fill. Tom Brown followed his example, and
Bob Wilkins, who was not a smoker, and had a somewhat facetious
disposition, amused himself by quizzing his comrades and carving a piece
of wood with his penknife.

"Does the real felicity, major, result from the tobacco or the
surrounding circumstances?" asked Wilkins.

"From both, Bob," replied the other with a smile, "and you need not
spoil my felicity by repeating your well-known set of phrases about the
evils of smoking, for I know them all by heart, and I dare say so does
Tom."

"Impossible," said Wilkins; "I have not yet been two weeks in his
company; he cannot, therefore, have heard a tithe of the irresistible
arguments which I bring to bear on that pernicious practice, and which I
hope some day to throw into shape and give to the public in the form of
a bulky volume."

"Which will end in smoke," interrupted the major.

"In a literal sense, too," added Tom Brown, "for it will be sold as
waste-paper and be made up into matches."

"We shall see," retorted Wilkins, cutting carefully round the right
nostril of a baboon's head which he had carved on the end of a
walking-stick; "meanwhile, major, as you are better acquainted than we
are with this outlandish country, and have taken on yourself the
leadership of the party, will you condes