copy; and in the heat of his enthusiasm he purchased two magic
lanterns at 25 pounds apiece before consulting the drawing-master,
who pointed out that a drawing-lesson, to be thorough, must be
conducted in a certain amount of light, whereas a magic lantern is
only effective in a dark room. So Sir Felix was left with two very
handsome lanterns on his hands, and burned for an opportunity of
turning them to account. Hence his alacrity in suggesting a lecture.

As for the Town Band, it was started last autumn with a view to
rendering our little town more attractive than ever to summer
visitors. The bandsmen have practised sedulously through the winter,
and are making great strides; but--if fault must be found--I am sorry
that our bandmaster, Mr. Patrick Sullivan (an Irishman), left the
purchase and selection of the music to his brother, who lives in
London and plays the piccolo at one of the music-halls. The result--
but you shall hear.

Punctually at 3.30 p.m. last Wednesday, Sir Felix drove down to the
Town Hall in his brougham. The body of the Hall was already packed,
and the missionary busy on the platform with his lanterns and white
sheet. Mr. Rabling and an assistant stood ready to close the
shutters and turn up the gas at the proper moment. The band waited
outside; and as Sir Felix alighted, mounted the steps and entered the
hall, bowing to right and left with the air of a real patriarch, the
musicians crashed out the tune of--

They all take after me,
Take whisky in their tea. . . .

Fortunately no one associated the tune with its words. Sir Felix
mounted the platform; and after sipping a little water (such was our
thoroughness that a glassful stood ready for each speaker), began to
introduce the lecturer, whose name he mispronounced. The missionary
was called Stubbs; and by what mnemonic process Sir Felix converted
this into Westmacott I have never been able to guess. However, for
purposes of introduction that afternoon Westmacott he was and
Westmacott he remained. Now Sir Felix, though not a very old man,
has a rambling habit of speech, and tends in public discourse to
forget alike the thread of his argument and the lapse of time.
Conceive then our delight on his announcing that he would confine
himself to a brief anecdote.

"The beauty of temperance," said Sir Felix, "was once brought home to
me very forcibly in rather peculiar circumstances. Many years ago I
was travelling afoot i