Garibaldi Villa, Balham : September 12, 1907. DARLING LULU,-There was no reason why you shouldn't have written to Mr. Wetherby, as you know he doesn't come for nothing. However, as you wished it, I have communicated with him, and he is to come to you on Nov. 10th-his one remaining free night, for he is in tremendous demand-for five guineas and expenses. He doesn't shoot or hunt, but he likes to meet interesting people; so I daresay you will have a house-party then. . . . Mrs. Rice has shown me the bottle, and it has the label of Figg the chemist on it. She says that Alice shocked them all by the way she carried on' with Joseph in the servants' hall.

Your loving,

TOOTOO.

The Manor, Silverton: September 14, 1907.

MY DEAR TOOTOO,-George thinks that five guineas and expenses is a great deal to give, and, of course, if we were to pay all the lecturers at the same exorbitant figure we should soon be in the bankruptcy court. However, as you seem to have engaged him definitely, George thinks that we cannot now draw back. But we should like to know by what train he is coming and what his subject is to be-it must be something quite simple. We assume that he will not stay for more than one night. . . . I am afraid that Mrs. Rice must be a very malicious and untrustworthy woman, and I think that she should be made to apologise to Alice, who is naturally very indignant at the odious calumny.

...

Your affectionate,

LULU.

Garibaldi Villa, Balham : September 15, 1907. DEAR LULU,-As after all the trouble I have taken you are not satisfied with my arrangements, you had better write to Mr. Wetherby yourself. The Philosophers' Club, Balham, will find him. I think you may be assured that he will not be eager to stay for more than the one night. . . . I think that an apology is due not to, but from, Alice.

Yours ev.,

T. ST. H.

As the result of a further correspondence with Mr. Wetherby, it was decided that the lecture should be on some historical subject, and the prophet finally selected as his theme 'The Swedes as the

Pivot of Continental Politics.' Fearing that this title would sound rather formidably in the ears of rustics, Mr. Cherrybank shortened it to The Swedes,' and the local printer, thinking the definite article superfluous, cut it out, and issued the bill as follows:

On Nov. 10th, in the Schoolroom, at 8 P.M. punctually,

A LECTURE ON

SWEDES,

By Mr. H. WETHERBY, Esq.

Lantern Slides.

When November 10 came round, Mrs. Cherrybank was a little flustered. She was accustomed to entertain ordinary people, but she had had no experience of prophets, and original thought rather intimidated her. The house party consisted only of Mrs. Cherrybank's aunt, who was rather deaf, and a friend of her husband's who had come for the hunting; but she had invited the Rector and his wife, Major Bridge, Mr. and the Hon. Mrs. Knight, and half a dozen other local celebrities to an early dinner to meet the lecturer, who was expected to arrive at 6 P.M.

The first and most surprising revelation of the evening was the personal appearance of the prophet. Mrs. Cherrybank was prepared for a tall, majestic figure with a flowing white beard, and had half expected to be confronted with a leathern girdle and a demand for locusts and wild honey. Instead, there stepped into the room a small and stoutish man, faultlessly dressed, who bowed stiffly and talked about the weather. Nor did he shine in the drawing-room, in the trying interval that precedes the announcement of dinner. The guests, who had been somewhat intimidated by their hostess's description of Mr. Wetherby, were introduced one by one, and, finding that they had nothing to say, withdrew to talk hunting shop amongst themselves, leaving the prophet and Mr. Cherrybank to exchange platitudes on the hearthrug.

But at dinner, after the first glass of champagne, he took up his parable and spoke. The Rector was lamenting to his neighbour, Miss Binns, that in the course of his travels he had found comparatively few Christians in Palestine. Mr. Wetherby caught the remark, and, breaking off a conversation with his hostess on the amenities of Balham, he said in a loud voice, Christianity has lost its hold on the Oriental mind through its Orientalism; in

religious propaganda, as in vestry meetings, agreement is only possible through opposition; the thing we believe in is always the thing we doubt.' Then, looking round the table, he added with intense conviction, After all, the only real thing in the world is half-a-crown.'

Conversation had ceased suddenly, and all ears were turned to the speaker.

6

Why so?' the Rector ventured to interpose. It was a foolish question, and the Rector should have known that certain Revelations must be taken lying down'; but the Prophet took up the challenge.

'Why so?' he replied, 'or, rather, how otherwise? To the man in the street, Plato's Republic, the Gospels, Blue-beard, and the Fiscal question are all myths; and the man in the street is the epitome of the man out of the street-the dustman is the concentrated experience of humanity. But give the dustman half-a-crown, and it means to him the public-house-the realisation of feelings that are his, because after the third glass they cease to be feelings and become a pain-and the only perfect thing in the world is pain.'

For the rest of dinner Mr. Wetherby had the conversation to himself-which was what he wanted. He belonged to that school of thought which seeks to express truth through paradox, and the company was fairly dazzled by the fertility of his imagination.

A brilliant talker!' whispered Mr. Cherrybank to the Rector, as they made for the carriages which were to take them to the schoolroom.

'Yes,' replied the Rector doubtfully, but a little daring, perhaps.'

The village schoolroom was redolent of oil lamps and damp clothes. Although the night was wet, a fair number of farmers and labourers had come to hear the lecture, attracted by the title and the promise of a magic lantern. A sheet had been stretched across the back of the daïs, the lantern was fizzing and popping ominously in the centre of the room, and the schoolmaster, obviously ill at ease, was fumbling with the slides. When Mr. Cherrybank had formally introduced him, the lecturer assumed an easy pose and began:

'Now, what is a Swede ?'

There was a short pause, during which the rustics prodded each other shyly. One of the boldest was about to hazard a reply

for the honour of Silverton, when Mr. Wetherby answered his own question.

'I will tell you,' he said. 'A Swede is neither animal, vegetable, nor mineral, neither fish, flesh, nor herring, but a prophecy and a portent. On his own poor soil and among his native forests he was a prophecy at Lutzen, on the plains of Germany, he became a portent. But first let me show you a picture of a typical Swede.' He tapped his stick on the floor, and the lantern fizzed and clicked.

There was a puzzled pause, and then Mr. Cherrybank coughed, and said, 'I fear there is some mistake, isn't there?'

The lecturer looked round and his face clouded with annoyance. 'T-T!' he said. That's the cannon-ball that killed Charles XII. -I'm coming to that later. Put the slides in, please, in the order in which I gave them to you.'

The lantern clicked again and Charles XII. came in jerkily on his head.

So Mr. Wetherby stepped from the platform and went to the aid of the harassed operator. After considerable delay the slides were reduced once more to order, and the lecturer resumed his discourse. And a very brilliant discourse it was. Gustavus Adolphus the Apostle, and Charles XII. the Devourer, of the Swedes, were introduced, turned inside out, and finally dismissed with a sparkling epigram; but their intrusion only added an element of perplexity to the larger part of the company, who, having started on a wrong tack, stuck to it with rustic obstinacy. Mr. Wetherby concluded with some daring conjectures on the future of Sweden, and then invited questions from his audience.

There was an uneasy shuffling of feet and a good deal of whispering, and finally a hard-headed, red-faced man, who farmed his own land, was lifted from his seat by his neighbours.

Ah should lahk to ask 'ee, yung mahn,' he said, 'whether 'ee knaw the diffrunce atween a Swede and a turmut.'

‘If that is a riddle,' replied the lecturer, with condescending playfulness, I am afraid that I must give it up.'

'Ah! 'a thought 'ee didn't!' exclaimed the farmer triumphantly. ' And 'a doan't believe the Dolphus or thic thar Chawles knawed un neether!'

At this point Mr. Cherrybank thought it wise to intervene.

'As it is getting late,' he said, ' and some of us have to be out of bed early to-morrow, I think that-er-that we won't trouble

Mr. Wetherby with further questions. We have all listened, I am sure, with great interest, and-er-instruction to-er-what has been a most interesting and instructive-er-lecture. I am sure we are all very grateful to Mr. Wetherby for coming amongst us, and some of us will hope to hear him again, perhaps-erelsewhere; and we shall all of us look forward, I am sure, wither-with increased interest and-er-and interest to his brilliant contributions to the-er-to the daily papers.'

'What a curiously perverse sense of humour your rustics have!' said Mr. Wetherby to the Rector, as they shook hands afterwards on the platform. They missed the more obvious points and laughed at others which I should hardly have expected them to find amusing. They seemed to be especially tickled at the idea that the Swedes have a future. It was an interesting experience for me; for it is the only occasion on which I have ever lectured to a purely agricultural audience.'

'I am afraid,' said the Rector hesitatingly, in fact, I am tolerably certain, that they were under the impression, all the evening, that you were in fact, that you were speaking about roots.'

And, for the first time in his life, the Prophet found himself speechless. G. F. BRADBY.