"Answer me a question," I begged of him. "Why does one yearn for the top brick off the chimney when one is a child, and yet feel dissatisfied when, as a man, one receives it on the top of one's Sunday tile? Why does the sea bird fly inland in winter to get food from the towns--only to turn up its beak when presented with a ticket for soup? Why do we----?" [Illustration: "A clear and practical illustration."] My friend the Tallow-chandler answered never a word, but chuckled foolishly to himself and retired behind a barrier of mottled soap. When I had gone a piece further I reached a back street, where I found my friend the Bird-stuffer sitting on his doorstep, playing the mouth-organ. "Answer me a question," I besought him. "Suppose you found out that those who hold the reins of government in our town were educating large blue-bottle flies to make apricot jam out of your and your neighbours' pig-wash, would you write to the local paper about it, even if you knew that the editor would decline to insert your letter?" My friend answered never a word; he only giggled in embarrassment, struck up a mazurka on his mouth-organ, and began to dance sheepishly. But, down in Mud Alley, my friend the Dustcart-man sat at his open window--a family idyll, wife and six small children, all eating onions and fried fish. "Answer me a question," I prayed him. "If a person came to you and said rudely, 'Better anything else than sitting here with your head in the domestic halter among the potsherds and puffballs of the old ideals; rather a jolly good row that ends in a fortnight's "hard" than fat-headed, elephant-footed dulness here with your buzzing brood around you!' If a person came to you and said that, what reply would you give him?" My friend answered never a word; he was out of the window before I had time to walk away; and in a very few moments I received a clear and practical illustration of the sort of reply he would give to such a question. As for me, I limped home as well as I could, and, when evening fell, and I was done up in brown paper and vinegar, both my eyes gleamed in the evening sun with the iridescent glitter of peacocks' tails. * * * * * "FOR THIS RELIEF, MUCH THANKS!" ["Fort Chitral, April 20.--Colonel KELLY'S force from Gilghit arrived to-day.... Much sickness from bad food, excessive work, and exposure. Conduct of troops admirable.... The discipline, devotion, and fortitude displayed by all ranks under circumstances which required all those qualities are beyond all praise."--_Dr. Robertson's Summary of the Siege of Chitral._] "Small time, but, in that small, most greatly liv'd This star of England." _Chorus: King Henry the Fifth_, Act V., Scene 2.