ng, and came back a dripping
bear. The sight made those of us who had but little hair atop our
pates green with envy, as all we could now hope for was not hair but
that the shellac finish on our polls might be dull and not shiny. This
man also sat or stood in the sun by the hour to acquire that brick-red
tan that is "quite English, you know;" and he got it, but it did not
altogether match with the other coloring which nature had bestowed upon
him. Then we had a "fidgetarian," who was one of the unlaundered
ironies of life; he could not keep still for a moment. This specimen
was from Throgg's Neck, and danced the carmagnole in concentric circles
all by himself, twisting in and out between the waltzers evidently with
the feeling that he was the "whole show," and that the other dancers
were merely accessories to the draught he made, and followed in his
wake. He was a half portion in the gold-filled class, and a charter
member of the Forty-second Street Country Club.

We were also honored by the presence of Mrs. Handy Jay Andy, of
Alexandry, who had "stunted considerable" in Europe, and was anxious to
repeat the performance in the Levant. She didn't carry a pug dog, but
she thought a "lady" ought to tote round with her something in
captivity, so she compromised on a canary, which she bought in Smyrna,
where all the good figs come from. She was a colored supplement to
high-toned marine society.

No collection of this kind would be complete without a military
officer, and we had him all right; we called him "the General," a man
who jested at scars and who had a beard out of which a Pullman pillow
might be easily constructed. On gala nights he decorated himself with
medals, and on the whole was a very ornamental piece of human
_bric-a-brac_. Of course we had the man with the green--but not too
French green--hat. He had a curly duck's tail, dyed green, sticking up
in its rear, so that the view from the back would resemble Emperor
William. He attracted attention, but somehow seemed like an empty
green bottle thrown in the surf.

Some of the ladies had their little peculiarities also. There was Mrs.
Galley-West from North Fifth Avenue, New York, a "widow-lady," whose
name went up on the social electric-light sign when she began to ride
home in a limousine. She stated that everybody who was anybody in that
great city knew who _she_ was and all about her. Nobody disputed her
statements. As time elapsed she became