I have my faults as a husband, but I believe Ruth will testify that I am not one of those who insist upon knowing what their wives have in mind when they are not telling "the whole truth"! So I said: "Of course not." And so it was arranged. I did ask if she would like me to make a late start so as to be here when her sister arrived. But she said I must not think of it. So then I saw I was to know nothing, and that it would conduce to the greatest happiness of the greatest number if I left as soon as possible. Fortunately for me, the battery was not in process of being charged, for the man said he did not know there was any hurry! So I was able to make an early start. I cut across lots and made straight for Banbury, where I stopped at the same inn which had so charmed me on a previous visit, an inn which would have charmed--perhaps did charm--Dickens. The next day I went again through Oxford, and so to London, entering on the west side, which I had learned was the easiest of the many gates to enter. When I reached the garage of the Frontenac Co., the manager listened to my tale of woe with patience, but, when I said I had bought that particular make of car because I had been assured by the salesman that it was warranted "fool proof," dryly remarked that every warrant had a limit, and reminded me that one was "born every minute." I could not find a suitable reply, and so left the car with him, promising to return the next day. By way of distraction I went that night to one of the great music-halls, which proved to be a kind of glorified "Keith's." Sarah Bernhardt was the attraction, but not to me! There was nothing left, it seemed to me, but the mannerisms of the second empire, and I was glad when she left the stage. Had there been nothing else--such as acrobats and performing dogs, both of which I delight in--it would have been worth the price of admission to see Chevallier alone. He was inimitable. It would pay the trustees of a theological seminary to import him to give "The Charity Bazaar" before the class in pastoral theology! It was the most disgusting picture of the sycophantic priestly you ever saw. The people screamed with laughter--let us hope because it was a caricature and that they had never seen the original. "The Vicar," dressed in the latest cry in "clericals," is supposed to be receiving the guests at a Charity Bazaar. His insolence to the poor, his failure to "see" the unholy dissenters, his cringing to the prosperous and his crawling before the duchess, who was the last to arrive, filled me with such shame that I had to shake myself to remember that it was acting, and that I was not called upon to make any remarks! If ever again you see me worshipping the Golden Calf, please show me this letter! It was a positive relief when the performing dogs came on the stage.