"Well, Palestine," said Hennessey; but I cut him short and sweet, An' "Natty," I said, "I've heard it all an' I don't want to repeat-- Jerusalem or Mombasa, Tahiti or Timbuctoo, Or careers an' pioneerin' an' the rest of it all--nah poo! It's no good, Nat, For I tell you flat I've cottoned to India an' that's just that; _Bus hogeva_; all done--finish; I'm here till the trees turn blue, For I love them early mornings, shiny an' clear an' grey, An' I love the cool o' the evening when the temple drummers play, An' the long, long, lazy afternoons, when the whole creation sleeps-- Quit it? Old man, I couldn't; I'm India's now for keeps. "So Hennessey, you go home," I says, "an' see to the wife an' kid." "You'll follow me there one day," says he, an' I says, "Heaven forbid! I'll just be goin' about an' about an' keepin' an open mind An' sometimes doin' a job o' work, but not if I'm not inclined; An' I won't care If I'm here or there, Jungle or forest or feast or fair; I'll take it all as it comes along, as the Maker o' things designed; I'll tramp it North to the Kashmir hills an' South to the Nilgiris; I'll find my friends as I find my fun--and that's where I dam well please; An' never no _saman_ or houses or taxes or servants to send things wrong." "It wouldn't suit me," said Hennessey. "It wouldn't," says I. "So long!" * * * * * THE ACTRESS. You are doubtless aware that in the successful musical comedy, _The Girl of Forty-Seven_, there is a scene in which Miss Verbena Vaine, as _Clementina_, the horse-dealer's beautiful daughter, denounces the disreputable old veterinary surgeon, _Binnett_, so whimsically played by that ripe comedian, Mr. Sid Apps. On my first visit to the play many weeks ago an incident occurred which both enhanced Mr. Apps's reputation for spontaneous humour and highly diverted the audience. It will be remembered that at the climax of her outburst, _Clementina_, with eyes ablaze and voice vibrating with passion, hisses, "Loathsome scoundrel, how I detest and despise you!" On the evening to which I refer a mock-submissive look came into Apps's face when these words were spoken, and he interrupted gently, "Not too much soda, Verbena," glancing with mischievous curiosity to see how she would take his humorous comment upon her emphatic utterance of this line of many sibilants. The audience was greatly delighted by this effect. Miss Vaine failed completely to maintain the _role_ of the indignant beauty and turned her back to the footlights to hide her face, though her laughter was betrayed by the shaking of her handsome shoulders. There was a pause of some moments before she resumed, "My father shall know of this," and so forth.