weary and I burn
To freshen memories waxing somewhat vague;
But men say, "Shun old England like the plague."

Lord knoweth Hind is not a place of pleasure
Nor such a land as men forsake with tears;
Lord knoweth how we venerate and treasure
The English memory down the Indian years;
Yet now the mail pours forth in flowing measure
England's un-Englishness, and in our ears
Echo the words of men returned from leave,
Describing Englands one can scarce believe.

Englands abandoned to the fleeting passions,
Feckless as Fez, hysterical as Gaul,
All nigger-music and fantastic fashions
(And not a house from Leith to London Wall);
Where food and coal are dealt you out in rations
And you can hardly raise a drink at all,
And tailors charge you twenty pounds a touch.
Is that a place for Nabobs? No, not much.

Better were Hind where troubles more or less stick
To one set style and do not drive you mad
With changes; where a roof and a domestic,
Petrol and usquebagh can still be had;
And one can trust the Taj and the Majestic
(Bombay hotels be these and none too bad)
To stand for culture in the hour of need
And stop one running utterly to seed.

Hind be it; as for Home--_festina lente_;
Hind be it and a station in the sun,
Wherein if peace abideth not nor plenty
At least you are not ruined and undone.
I am not coming home in 1920,
And maybe not in 1921;
If all the English England's dead and gone,
One can remember; one can carry on.

H.B.

* * * * *

LITTLE TALES FOR YOUNG PLUMBERS.

THE CONVERSION OF GEORGE.

George was a plumber by trade and a striker by occupation. He did his
plumbing in his holidays, when he was not busy. He liked plumbing, as it
gave his throat a rest. He was really the Champion Long Distance Plumber of
the World and had gained the R.S.V.P.'s gold medal for doing the back-in-a-
minute-to-get-your-tools in more than two hours. And his heart was as
tender as his feet. If he heard a clock strike he longed to strike in
sympathy, so that hard-hearted employers who knew George's weakness always
kept their time-pieces muffled.

The bursting of our water-pipe was the means of bringing me into touch with
George. He joined our bathing-party in the front hall, and said simply, "I
am the plumber." Just like that. He then said that he would swim home for
his tools, as he had forgotte