Nor would I laugh at those who call on their companions for corroboration of their views as to views. It is simply another way of sharing delights, and that man who gobbles up a landscape and never comments upon it is not likely to have kept silence from Japanese motives. They say that the Japanese take the appreciation of beauty so much as a matter of course that they never refer to the rapturous tints in an orchard of peach blossoms or the tender greens of a spring landscape, feeling that it would be an insult to invite attention where attention was already bestowed; but with us of the West, when a man refrains from speaking about this lordly oak or that graceful dip of hill, or those clouds dying on the horizon in every conceivable colour, the chances are that he is thinking of his business affairs, and the clouds die and the hills dip and the tree spreads not for him. Many of these graceful thoughts I expressed in fitting words to Ethel, so it will be seen that our walk was not without interest, and as she in turn said many quotable things, which I now forget, the walk was prolonged until to our astonishment we found that it was seven. “Hungry as a bear?” asked I. “Indeed I am. Probably Minerva has been holding dinner in the oven this half hour, and it will not be fit to eat.” We hastened our steps, and in a few minutes our home burst upon us—also more strains from the accordeon—together with plunks from a banjo. We heard the plunks before we saw who was supplying them, but in a moment the musician was seen to be seated upon the front verandah. He was a tall, good-looking mulatto, and I at once recognized him as being the man who had driven the constable over that morning. Ethel stopped short, and became angry at the same instant. I stopped short and became amused at the same instant, thus showing how the same acts will affect different natures; also showing how a person can do two things at once and do them both well. For there is no question but that our stops were as short as they could have been, and our anger and amusement were well conceived and well carried out. Ethel was too angry to speak. I was too amused to keep silent. “It’s scandalous,” said Ethel, as soon as she could find words. “It’s just right,” said I. “And it has given me a good idea. After dinner I will tell you about it.” The banjoist had seen us first, and had told Minerva, and both had jumped to their feet, the man to bow and Minerva to run into the kitchen, where she was followed by her friend.