"Well, some call them that," he admitted, "others don't.I suppose, now, you wouldn't care to walk to Brighton with your feet tied together, or your hair in curl papers, and then get on at a music hall? Or would there be any chance of your Legation kidnapping you if it was properly worked? 'Kong Ho, the great Chinese Reformer, tells the Story of his Life,'--there ought to be money in it.Are you a reformer or the leader of a secret society, Kong?""On the contrary," I replied, "we of our Line have ever been unflinching in our loyalty to the dynasty of Tsing.""You ought to have known better, then.It's a poor business being that in your country nowadays.Pity there are no bye-elections on the African Labour Question, or you'd be snapped up for a procession."To this I replied that although the idea of moving in a processional triumph would readily ensnare the minds of the light and fantastic, I should prefer some more literary occupation, submissively adding that in such a case I would not stiffen my joints against the most menial lot, even that of blending my voice in a laudatory chorus, or of carrying official pronouncements about the walls of the city, for it is said with justice, "The starving man does not peel his melon, nor do the parched first wipe round the edges of the proffered cup.""If you've set your mind on something literary," said Beveledge confidently, "you have every chance of finishing up in a chorus or carryingprinted placards about the streets, certainly.When it comes to that, look me up in Eastcheap." With this encouraging assurance of my ultimate success he left me, and rejoicing that I had not fallen into the snare of opposing a written destiny, I sought the literary quarters of the city.*When this person has been able to write of any custom or facet of existence here in a strain of conscientious esteem, he has not hesitated to dip his brush deeply into the inkpot.Reverting backwards, this barbarian enactment of not permitting those who from any cause have decided upon spending the night in a philosophical abstraction to repose upon the public seats about the swards and open spaces is not conceived in a mood of affable toleration.Nevertheless there are deserted places beyond the furthest limits of the city where a more amiable full-face is shown.On the eleventh day of this one's determination to sustain himself by the exercise of his literary style, he was journeying about sunset towards one of these spots, subduing the grosser instincts of mankind by reviewing the wisdom of the sublime Lao Ch'un, who decided that heat and cold, pain and fatigue, and mental distress, have no real existence, and are therefore amenable to logical disproof, while the cravings of hunger and thirst are merely the superfluous attributes of a former and lower state of existence, when a passer-by, who for some distance had been alternately advancing before and remaining behind, matched his footsteps into mine.
"Whichee way walk-go, John, eh?" said this unfortunate being, who appeared to be suffering from a laborious deformity of speech."Allee samee load me.Chin-chin." Filled with compassion for one who evidently found himself alone in a strange land, in the absence of his more highly- accomplished companion, unable to indicate his wants and requirements to those about him, I regretfully admitted that I had not chanced to encounter that John whose wandering footsteps he sought; and to indicate, by not leaving him abruptly, that I maintained a sympathetic concern over his welfare, I pointed out to him the exceptional brilliance of the approaching night, adding that I myself was then directing a course towards a certain spacious Heath, a few li distant in the north.
"Sing-dance tomollow, then?" he said, with a condensed air of general disappointment."Chop-chop in a pay look-see show on Ham--Hamstl--ohdamme! on 'Ampstead 'Eath? Booked up, eh, John?"Gradually convinced that it was becoming necessary to readjust the significance of the incident, I replied that I had no intention of partaking of chops or food of any variety in an erected tent, but merely of passing the night in an intellectual seclusion.
"Oh," said the one who was walking by my side, regarding my garments with engaging attention, and at the same time appearing to regain an unruffled speech as though the other had been an assumed device, "I understand--the Blue Sky Hotel.Well, I've stayed there once or twice myself.A bit down on your uppers, eh?""Assuredly this person may perchance lay his upper parts down for a short space of time," I admitted, when I had traced out the symbolism of the words."As it is humanely written in The Books, 'Sleep and suicide are the free refuges equally of the innocent and the guilty.'""Oh, come now, don't," exclaimed the energetic person, striking himself together by means of his two hands."It's sinful to talk about suicide the day before bank holiday.Why, my only Somali warrior has vamoosed with his full make-up, and the Magnetic Girl too, and I never thought of suicide--only whether to turn my old woman into a Veiled Beauty of the Harem or a Hairy Lama from Tibet."Not absolutely grasping the emergency, yet in a spirit of inoffensive cordiality I remarked that the alternative was insufferably perplexing, while he continued.
