posing a telegram to that effect did oome, would you hand over the letters?" "I don't know, Sahib," he answered after five minutes' thought; "I am afraid not. I should have to write and get an official letter sanctioning such a breach of the 'Regulations.' As an answer to his letter would take at least two weeks before it arrived, we seemed no nearer to getting our letters. During the course of the somewhat heated argument that followed, he informed us that our letters were there in a sealed bag on the table, and that they were going on to Jhatri that evening. We pointed out that there was nothing in the world to prevent his opening the bag, taking out our letters, and sealing it up again. Who would be any the wiser? No, it was impossible, as it was contrary to all "Regulations." Then, as by now he had come to the conclusion that our opinion of the "Regulations was not a high one, he added, "Besides, I am being relieved by a new babu this evening. I have made out receipts and papers, &o., for the contents of that bag, and if I take out three letters all the papers will have to be altered. No, Sahib, it is impossible." But his mention of a relief coming that evening had given me another idea. When I asked him if he knew anything about the man who was coming to take his place, he said that he knew nothing whatever about him and had never even heard his name. So I said to X that then the man we had passed on the road that morning must be the relief. Now early in the day we had passed a very small fat man, wearing spectacles and not much else, who, in answer to our inquiries, said that he was a post-office official on his way to relieve a man who was going on furlough, But I described him very differently to our friend "Regulations." In fact, I gave him a picture of our Pathan orderly, Khan Beg, who was arranging our baggage up at the rest-house. So, telling X that it was obviously useless trying any more to get our letters, we left the dirty little office, and on our way through the bazaar I told him of my scheme. It was very simple, and short of brute force it really seemed the only way of getting the better of those cursed "Regulations." Khan Beg was to impersonate the new babu and get our letters somehow. We sent for him and explained our troubles, and gave him minute details of what he was to do. We impressed on him that he was not to use force, but was to exercise the full cunning of his brain and get those letters, if possible, without the knowledge of the babu. He was to insist on the contents of the mail-bag being counted, and we were sure that he would find an opportunity of slipping the letters unseen into the ample folds of his garments. We also pointed out to him the necessity for haste, as the real babu might arrive at any moment. Khan Beg quite appreciated the joke, and gaily started off to rob His Majesty's mail- bag. To assist the deception we sent a coolie with him, carrying one of our servant's tin boxes, without which no native in India who considers himself anybody ever travels. From the verandah of the rest-house we had a clear view down the bazaar street to the postoffice door. Having launched Khan Beg on his errand, I began to feel a little nervous as to the result. A Pathan generally makes little distinotion between strategy and brute force. I knew quite well that if our friend "Regulations" refused to be taken in, and Khan Beg could not get peaceable access to that letter-bag, he would carry it off by force. I had visions of Khan Beg issuing from the office with the bag under one arm and the babu under the other. This would mean large expenditure of rupees before peace was restored. According to Khan Beg's account this is what happened. At first, apparently, the babu never doubted his identity, and was only too eager to begin handing over charge. One would have thought that his suspicions would have been aroused by his relief's anxiety to begin work so soon, but I imagine that his mental equilibrium had been so much upset by his stormy interview with us, and that he was so eager to get rid of that letter-bag, that he could think of nothing else. For these reasons doubt less, and on account of his partial deafness and blindness, Khan Beg's identity was not suspected. When they reached the item, "One letter - bag, sealed, containing twenty letters," Kban Beg insisted on the bag being opened and the contents checked. This seemed to arouse the suspicions of "Regulations," but something in Khan Beg's demeanour must have impressed him, for he broke his precious seal and emptied the contents of the bag on to the table. Our pseudo-babu was quite well enough educated to recognise our letters, and throwing all diplomacy to the winds he picked them up, and without further to-do walked out into the street. "Regulations" then saw at once that he had been hoaxed, and rushed after him. We saw Khan Beg stalking in a slow and stately manner up the street, and the wretched little babu imploring him by every deity he could think of to give him back his letters. The poor little man, bareheaded and barefooted, was gesticulating wildly, and running in circles round the dignified Pathan. He soon worked himself into such a frenzy of fear and rage that he dared to catch hold of Khan Beg by the arm, as if to stop him. The Pathan, at this, turned round suddenly with such a ferocious look, that the babu, terrified out of his wits, jumped back, tripped over his own feet, and rolled in the ditch. By this 8 were addressed to Jhatri, and secondly-oh, horror of horrors! time the whole of the inhabit- in spite of the fact that they ants had collected in the street. It was impossible to say on whose side their sympathies lay, but probably they were quite indifferent, and merely joined the peculiar procession out of curiosity. When the unfortunate babu oame oropper in the dust, we could only shriek with laughter, though our mirth was tinged with a feeling of anxiety lest Khan Beg had forcibly opened that mail-bag, and we wondered where it was going to end. Khan Beg and the babu arrived before us simultaneously, and the former, with an air of great pride, handed over to us our lawful property. This was too much for "Regulations." He threw himself on the ground, covered himself with more dust, and yelled at the top of his voice. We could make out very little of what he was saying, but the word "Regulations" occurred several times, and we gathered that unless those letters were returned, life would no longer be worth living. He was now in a truly pitiable condition, and we began to feel quite nervous about him. However, X ran indoors and returned with a jug of water, the contents of which somewhat cooled the frantic man. He then began to talk more coherently, and we got out of him the fact that there were two things which were going to send him immediately to his grave. Both were gross breaches of Regulations." Firstly, the letters had been delivered the 66 they had been issued from his office without the office stamp. The thought of this was too much for him, and he again rolled shrieking on the ground and foamed at the mouth. The cold-water eure was again applied by X, and the poor man was now so exhausted that we persuaded him to keep a little calmer and listen to what we had to say. I held the letters up in front of him, and promised him on my oath that if he would keep calm for ten or twenty minutes, I would give them back to him exactly as they were. He looked doubtful, but seemed inclined to trust me. Under the circumstances no other alternative remained to him. I went indoors, leaving him rocking himself to and fro in the verandah, quietly moaning about his beloved "Regulations." A few minutes with a kettle sufficed to open the envelopes and extract their contents. Having replaced them with bits of newspaper and gumming down the flaps, I went out into the verandah and handed the letters back to the babu. He looked at them for some moments, turning them over and over. After satisfying himself that they really did appear untouched, his face broke out into a broad grin and he started to overwhelm us with blessings. He then remarked that he concluded that we must have opened and read them. We replied that his conclusion was oorrect, and with a cunning grin he asked us how we had done it. Doubtless he was a far greater adept at the art than we were, but we thought it wiser to refuse the information. Then he went happily off down to his office, still talking about his "Regulations." Khan Beg, who was standing near when the letters were returned, was most indignant at our having given up the prize which he had taken so much trouble to obtain, and he practically told us that we were fools to have been taken in by what was nothing more than acting. However, he was pacified when we showed him the letters, and assured him that the babu had gone off with envelopes containing nothing but pieces of newspaper. That evening the newly-arrived babu came to the resthouse and handed over to us our three letters, saying that as we were at Doraha there was no necessity to send them on to Jhatri. H. CH. DE CRESPIGNY. 3 в VOL CCVII.-NO. MCCLV. MUSINGS WITHOUT METHOD. FRANCE AND BRITAIN A COMMON FACTOR OF UNHAPPINESSPRESIDENT WILSON THE VILLAIN OF THE PEACE-THE FRIENDS OF GERMANY-A FRENCHMAN ON FRANCE-THE PRESS. IT is impossible to visit France at this hour without perceiving the profound disquietude of the country. It is not merely that France suffers from the griefs which perplex us also the high price of life's necessities, the utter selfishness of the working classes and their lack of imagination, the subtle and dangerous domination of the Jew, the desire of the ignorant Socialists to substitute for the Entente a hastilymade friendship with Germany. All these dangers assail the French Republic; and to talk with Frenchmen, to read the French press, is to understand that in France and Britain there is a common factor of unhappiness. But France is deeply troubled by one danger, within which we ourselves do not stand. The war is over, France is victorious, and she has not won the palms of victory. In many ways she is worse off than her defeated opponent. Germany's territory has not been devastated, her factories and fields and orchards have not been destroyed. She may begin her work of reconstruction, unhampered by such losses as she has wantonly and with forethought inflicted upon France. And while so much may be not seldom to her advantage, she refuses to perform her part of the treaty. Here, indeed, are the source and origin of France's uneasiness. The treaty signed at Versailles remains ineffective. Germany laughs aloud at the conditions which she has accepted, and which she intends not to fulfil. Her armies are not disbanded, her arms are not surrendered, the indemnities and reparations, which she promised to provide, are half-forgotten, and in vain France asks for the coal which the Germans undertook to send her. Was, then, the ceremony of Versailles a mere farce? That is what France is asking, and she receives no answer. It is not surprising, then, that France cherishes a kind of anger against those who are, and will we hope always remain, her allies. The speech of M. Barthou was indeed the result of an intelligible irritation. So far as touches France, Germany is where she was in 1914. Across the Rhine is a nation far more numerous than the French, desirous to take its revenge, and as keenly animated as ever it was to attempt the domination of the world. A German, we are told, when he is drunk, talks of another war in five years. When he is sober he discusses with all his unimaginative earnestness how best he shall evade the |