"_The mail train_," &c., &c. I make my notes, and remark that MURRAY and BRADSHAW lost a great chance in not having long ago secured the services of the Corresponding Captain. "_The railroad passes through mountain scenery of exceptional_," &c., &c. BRADSHAW and MURRAY, not to mention BAEDEKER and BLACK, absolutely not in it with the Wandering Warrior. "_About thirty miles from Cape Town_"-- A SIMPLE SUGGESTION. I stop him at this point. "Couldn't we have a song here?" "Why?" asks the Simple Soldier, glaring at me, and pulling his moustache. "Just to lighten it up a bit," I explain. "You see 'About thirty miles' and so forth, suggests the old song of _Within a Mile of Edinboro' Town_." "Don't see it," says the Virtuous Veteran, stolidly. "Well, I'll make a note of it," and I add pleasantly, as is my way, "if it's a song, I'll make _several notes_ of it." "Um!" growls the Severe Soldier, and once again I defeat him in an attempt at surprising my outpost, i.e., my tumbler of cool drink. He apologises gruffly but politely, and then continues his reading. ON WE GOES AGAIN. He continues to read about "_distances," "so many feet above sea-levels," "engineering skill_," &c., &c., which I observe to him will all make capital padding for a guide-book, when I am suddenly struck by the sound of the word I had just used, _viz._, 'padding.' PADDINGTON. "By Jove!" I exclaim. "What is it?" asks the Confused Captain, looking up from his MS. "'Padding,'" I reply--"Only add a 'ton' to it, and that will give it just the weight I require. Don't you see?" I ask him, impetuously. But he merely shakes his head, and lugs at his moustache. I explain the idea, as if it were a charade. I say, "The whole notion is 'padding--ton.' See?" The Ruminating Reader thinks it won't do. "Yes it will," I urge--"it will lighten it up. Who wants statistics without anecdote? Now for an anecdote; and I knock one off, _sur le champ_, about the engine-driver, the stoker, and several other persons, all on the look-out for promotion, informing me of their being _Paddington men of considerable political influence at home_. The Cautious Captain accepts the anecdote, interpolates it, and after I have called for and imbibed another tumbler of 'my own partik,' and lighted another cigar, the Conscientious Captain resumes his entertainment." NO PIANO. He reads on. Another drink, just to rivet my attention. Will he take something? No? Then _I_ will. His health, and song--I mean 'treatise,' or whatever he calls it--say 'lecture.' Wish we'd had a piano. Never will travel without one again. _Mem._--Gong and piano. I don't pretend to be a thorough musician, but as a one-fingered player I'd give Sir CHARLES HALLÉ odds and beat him. Now then--let's see where were we. Another tumbler iced. Good. _Allez!_ Captain, go ahead! [Illustration]