of Lord Roberts's inspection we had to change from parade
dress to gym dress, and it was during the change that Lord Roberts
inspected our quarters. He went into one room and found a fellow just
half-way through his change--with nothing at all on! The room was
called to attention, and with great presence of mind the boy dashed
into the bed curtains and stood to attention there, while Lord Roberts
had an animated conversation with him!

There were jolly moments in the life at the Shop. On Saturdays, after
dinner, the unfortunates who had not got away for the week-end used to
have "stodges" after dinner. Having put away a substantial dinner, we
changed into flannels, and used to crowd into some one's room, and eat
muffins and smoke cigars. I remember one night there were eighteen of
us in one small room.

In order to go away for a week-end one had to obtain (1) an
invitation, (2) permission from parent or guardian to accept the
invitation. One week my brother, who was working at the Admiralty,
offered his flat to myself and F----, as he was going to Brighton
himself. Fleming wrote to his guardian--a Scotsman--for permission
to stay with Captain Hankey. The guardian wrote back for more
information. He saw by the Army List that Captain Hankey existed, but
who were the Hankeys? etc., etc. F---- wrote back a furious letter,
saying that he expected to have his friends accepted without question,
and received the permission. We went. The awkward thing was that
Captain Hankey was not there, and we shuddered to think of the rage of
F----'s guardian if he should find out. Worse still, the guardian was
supposed to be staying at the Oriental Club in Hanover Square, and my
brother's flat was in Oxford Street! However, we didn't meet.

F---- and I neither of us knew London, and had the time of our lives.
We dined at Frascati's--a palace of splendour in our eyes--and went to
His Majesty's to see Beerbohm Tree in Ulysses. When it came to Hades,
we held each other's hands! On Sunday we went to St. Peter's, Vere
Street, but were so furious at being kept waiting for pew holders
long after service had commenced, that we went on to the Audley Street
Chapel, a most queer little place. It was full of monuments to the
dependents of peers, in which the peers figured very largely and
the dependents fared humbly--the epitome of flunkeydom. Among these
tablets was one inscribed--

"To John Wilkes,
Friend of Liberty."

Truly refreshing!