and in the Spring? he asked me. Such lovely
blossom in the gardens. Chiswick had once been famous for its fruit
orchards, and many trees still remained. Didn't I think it pretty?

As a matter of fact it was looking to me exactly like other suburbs;
but I hadn't the heart to dash so enthusiastic and friendly a
creature; so I said I thought Chiswick charming.

And healthy, he went on: there wasn't a healthier place anywhere--all
sand. Wherever you dug you'd find sand.

I had a sudden vision of myself, spade in hand, testing this
statement; but he allowed no time for such diversions of thought. The
goodness of Chiswick and the importance of praising it were too urgent
with him.

After passing the station we came to a block of peculiarly hideous
flats on the right. There, he said, pointing to them, wasn't that
convenient? What could a clerk want better than that? For himself he
couldn't ask a better fate than to live at Chiswick. Such a fine High
Street, and the biggest music-hall in the suburbs. The picture palaces
too. But he was sorry to say that some Chiswick people had taken to
going to a new one at Hammersmith. That was a pity, he thought. Had I
ever seen such a nice Green?

By this time I was becoming stunned. I pinched myself to discover
whether or not I dreamed. A Londoner, or Greater Londoner, pleased
with his home; an Englishman of any description satisfied with
anything English, and especially just now, when the rule is to cry
stinking fish! What could be the matter?

I would try him, I thought, in his most sensitive spot, his pocket;
and the opportunity came naturally enough for we were passing the
shops in the High Street and he began to extol their merits.

"But isn't everything horribly dear nowadays?" I said.

"Yes," he replied, gaily "it is; but I can remember when it was
dearer."

What is one to do with a man like that? Had we not now come to my
turning, Duke's Avenue, where he bade me good-bye, I might have
discovered that he did not think Lord KITCHENER an imbecile, Mr.
BALFOUR a mere salary-hunter, and Mr. ASQUITH a traitor. To such an
oddly constructed mind even those things were possible.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Tommy (to Jock, on leave)._ "WHAT ABOUT THE LINGO?
SUPPOSE YOU WANT AN EGG OVER THERE, WHAT DO YOU SAY?"

_Jock._ "YE JUIST SAY, 'OOF'."

_Tommy._ "BUT SUPPOSE YOU WANT TWO?"

_Jock._ "YE SAY 'TWA OOFS,' AND THE SILLY AULD FULE WIFE GIES YE