UT of the limits of this city of Lon-don we drove into the beginnings of the east. Not the Orient of the poet and the traveller, the land of the thousand-and-one nights, but the miles and miles of brick where some millions of Londoners pass an existence that ages me to think of. Picture to yourself a life more desolate of joys than the Arctic, more crowded with fellow-animals than any ant-heap, uglier than the Great Desert, as poor and as diseased as Job. Not even the wealthy there to gossip about and gape at, no great house to envy and admire, no glitter anywhere to distract, except in the music-halls of an evening. Yet they work on and do not hang themselves—poor devils!

But I grow serious where I had set out to be gay, and thoughtful when you are asking for a somersault. Worse still, I am solemn, sitting at the elbow of my cheerful Halfred.

That genial driver of the omnibus was not one whit depressed upon coming into this region, nor, to tell the truth, was I that morning, for I could not see the backward parts, but only the wide main road, very airy after the lanes of the city, and crowded with quite a different population. No longer the business-man with shining hat, hands in pockets, quick step, and anxious face; no longer the well-dressed woman hurrying likewise through the throng; no longer the jingling hansom; but, instead, the compatriot of the prophets, the costermonger with his barrow, the residue of Hungary and Poland, the pipe of the British workman. Wains of hay in the midst of the road, drays and lorries, and an occasional omnibus jolting at the sides; to be sure there was life enough to look at.

As for my friend, his talk began to turn more upon his own private affairs. Apparently there was less around to catch his attention, and, as I have said, he had to talk, and so spoke of himself. As I sat on the top of that 'bus listening with continuous amusement to his candid reminiscences and naÏve philosophy, I studied him more attentively than ever, for, as you shall presently hear, I had more reason. His dress, I noticed, was neat beyond the average of drivers; a coat of box-cloth, once light yellow, now of various shades, but still quite respectable; a felt hat with a flat top, glazed to throw off the rain; a colored scarf around his neck, whether concealing a collar or not I could not say; and something round his knees that might once have been a rug or a horse-cloth, or even a piece of carpet.

“Yus,” said Halfred, meditatively, as he cracked his whip and urged his 'bus at headlong speed through a space in the traffic, “it's some rum changes o' luck I've 'ad in my day.

My father he give me a surprisin' good eddication for a hembyro 'bus-driver, meaning me to go into the stevedore business in Lime-'ousc basin, same as 'e was 'imself, but my 'ead got swelled a-talkin' to a most superior policeman what 'ad come down in the world, and nothing would sat-ersfy me but mixin' in 'igh life. So our rector 'e gives me a introduction to a bloomin' aunt o' his in the country what wanted a boy in buttons, and into buttons I goes, and I says to myself, says I, 'Halfred, you're goin' to be a credit to your fam'ly, you are'; that's what I says. Blimy, I often larf now a-thinkin' of it!”

He paused to blow his nose in a primitive but effective fashion, and smiled gently to himself at these recollections of his youthful optimism.

“How long did you remain in these buttons?” I asked him.

“Till I outgrowed them,” said Halfred.

“And after that?”

“I was servant to a gentleman what hadvertised for a honest young man, hexperience bein' no hobject.”

I asked him how he liked that.

“I was comfertable enough; that I can't deny,” said Halfred.

“And why, then, did you leave?”

“The heverlastin' reason w'y I does most foolish things, sir. My 'eart is too suscepterble, and the ladies'-maid was too captivatin'. She wouldn't 'ave nothin' to do with me, so I chucks the 'ole thing up, and, says I, 'I'll be hinderpendent, I will.' 'Ence I'm a-drivin' a 'bus.”

“Are you happy now?” I inquired.

“Well,” said he, candidly, “I couldn't say as I was exactly 'umped; but it ain't all bottled beer sittin' in this bloomin' arm-chair with your whiskers froze stiff, and the 'orses' ears out o' sight in the fog. And there ain't much variety in it, nor much chance of becomin' a millionaire. Hoften and hoften I thinks to myself, 'What O for a pair o' trousers to fold, and a good fire in the servants' 'all, and hinderpendence be blowed!'”

I think it was at this moment that an inspiration came into my head. It was rash, you will doubtless think.

“I 'ope so, sir,” said he, with becoming modesty and evident surprise.

“And now you are experienced?”

“Well, sir,” he said, “you've 'ad threepence worth o' this 'ere 'bus, and you 'aven't seed me scrape off no paint yet.”

“But, I mean, you are experienced in folding trousers, in packing shirts, in varnishing boots, in all the niceties of your old profession, are you not? You would do credit to a gentleman if he should engage you?”

It was certainly sudden, but then, as perhaps you have discovered ere now, I am not the most prudent of men. This little, cheerful Halfred had taken my fancy enormously, and my heart was warmed towards him.

“Halfred,” I asked, abruptly, “are you still an honest young man?”

Halfred looked at me sharply, with a true cockney's suspicion of what he feared might be “chaff.”

“You ain't a-pulling my leg, sir?” he inquired, guardedly.

“On the contrary, I am taking your hand as an honest and experienced valet, Halfred.”

“You knows of a gentleman as wants one?” said he.

“I do,” I answered, with conviction.

“It ain't yourself, sir?”

“It is,” said I.

“Blimy!” exclaimed Halfred, in an audible aside.

“What about references?” said he.

“Oh, references; yes, I suppose you had better have some references,” I replied, though, to tell the truth, I had not thought of them before.

He rubbed his chin with the back of his hand and screwed his rosy face into a deliberative expression, while his eyes twinkled cheerfully.

“I don't mind 'aving a go at the job,” he remarked, after a couple of minutes' reflection.

“Apply this evening,” I said. “Bring a reference if you have one, and I shall engage you, Halfred!”

For the rest of our journey together his gratitude and pleasure, his curiosity, and his qualms as to how much he remembered and how much he had forgotten of a man-servant's duties, delighted me still further, and made me congratulate myself upon my discrimination and judgment.

We parted company among the docks and shipping of the very far east of London, and after rambling for a time by the busy wharves and breezy harbor basins, and, marvelling again at the vastness and variety of this city, I mounted another omnibus and drove back to my rooms.

“A man to see you, sir,” said the maid.

Could it be Halfred, already? No, it was a very different individual; a tall and stately man, with a prim mouth and an eye of unfathomable discretion. He stood in an attitude denoting at once respect for me and esteem for himself, and followed me to my room upon a gently creaking boot.

“Well,” said I, at a loss to know whether he came to collect a tax or induce me to order a coffin, “what can I do for you?”

“Mr. Lumme, sir,” said he, in a mincing voice, “has informed me that you was requiring a manservant. Enclosed you will find Air. Lumme's recommendation.”

He handed me a letter which ran as follows:

Dear Monsieur,—I have found the very man you want. He was valet to Lord Pluckham for five years, and could not have learned more from any one. Pluck-ham was very particular as to dress, and had many affairs requiring a discreet servant. He only left when P. went bankrupt, and has had excellent experience since. Been witness in two divorce cases, and is highly recommended by all; also a primitive Wesleyan by religion, and well educated. You cannot find a better man in London, nor as good, I assure you. His name is John Mingle. Don't lose this chance. I have had some trouble, but am glad to have found the very article.

“Yours truly,

“Edward Lumme.”

This was a pretty dilemma! The industrious and obliging Lumme had found one jewel, and in the meanwhile I had engaged another. I felt so ungrateful and guilty that I was ashamed to let my good Teddy discover what I had done. So instead of telling Mr. Mingle at once that the place was filled, I resolved to find him deficient in some important point, and decline to engage him on these grounds. Easier said than done.

“Your experience has been wide?” I asked, looking critical and feeling foolish.

“If I may say so, sir, it has,” said he, glancing down modestly at the hat he held in his hands.

“You can iron a hat?” I inquired, casting round in my mind for some task too heavy for this Hercules.

He smiled with, I thought, a little pity.

“Oh, certingly, sir.”

“Can you cook?”

“I have hitherto stayed at houses where separate cooks was kept,” said he; “but if we should happen to be a-camping out in Norway, sir, there isn't nothing but French pastry I won't be happy to oblige with—on a occasion, that's to say, sir.”

Not only were Mr. Alingle's accomplishments comprehensive, but he evidently looked upon himself as already engaged by me. Internally cursing his impudence, I asked next if he could sew.

“At a pinch, sir,” said he. “That is,” he added, correcting this vulgar expression, “if the maids is indisposed, or like as if we was on board your yacht, sir, and there was no hother alternative.”

“We” again—and it seemed Mr. Alingle expected me to keep a yacht!

Could he load and clean a gun, saddle a horse, ride a bicycle, oil a motor-car, read a cipher, and manage a camera? Yes; in the absence of the various officials which “our” establishment maintained for these purposes, Mr. Mlingle would be able and willing to oblige.

Moreover, he talked with a beautiful accent, and only very occasionally misused an aspirate; and there could be no doubt he would make an impressive appearance in any livery I could design. Even as a Pierrot he would have looked dignified. On what pretext could I reject this paragon?

“Can you drive an omnibus?” I demanded, at last, with a flash of genius.

This time Mr. Alingle looked fairly disconcerted.

“Drive a homnibus!” said he. “No, sir; my position and prospec's have always been such that I am happy to say I have never had the opportunity of practising.”

I shook my head.

“I am afraid,” I said, “that you won't suit me, Mingle. It is my amusement to keep a private omnibus.”

“Oh, private,” said Mr. Mingle, as though that might make a difference.

But quickly I added:

“It is painted and upholstered just like the others. In fact, I buy them secondhand when beyond repair. Also I take poor people from the work-house for a drive. And you must drive it in all weathers.”

That was the end of Mr. Mingle. In fact, I think he was glad to find himself safely out of my room again, and what he thought of my tastes, and even of my sanity, I think I can guess.

That evening my friend Halfred appeared, bringing a testimonial to his honesty and sobriety from the proprietor of the stables, and a brief line of eulogy from the official who collected the pence and supplied the tickets upon his own “bus. This last certificate ran thus—I give it exactly as it stood:

“certtifieing alfred Winkes is I of The best obligging and You will find him kind to animils yours Sinseerly P. Widdup.”

As Halfred explained to me, this was entirely unsolicited, and Mr. Widdup, he was sure, would feel hurt if he learned that it had not been presented.

“You can tell him,” I said, “that it has secured the situation for you.”

I had just told him that I should expect him to begin his duties upon the following morning, and he was inspecting my apartment with an air of great interest and satisfaction, when there came a knock upon the door, and in walked Sir. Teddy Lumme himself. He was in evening-dress, covered by the most recent design in top-coats and the most spotless of white scarfs. On his head he wore a large opera-hat, tilted at the same angle, and on his feet small and shiny boots.

“Hullo,” said he. “Sorry; am I interrupting? Came to see if you'd booked Mingle. I suppose you have.'”

“A thousand thanks, my friend, for your trouble.”

I replied, with an earnestness proportionate to my feeling of compunction. “Mingle was, indeed, admirable—exquisite. In fact, he was perfect in every respect save one.”

“What's that?” said Teddy, looking a little surprised.

“He could not drive an omnibus.”

I am afraid my friend Teddy thought that I was joking. He certainly seemed to have difficulty in finding a reply to this. Then an explanation struck him.

“You mean what we call a coach,” he suggested. “Thing with four horses and a toot-toot-toot business—post-horn, we call it. What?”

“I mean an omnibus,” I replied. “The elegant, the fascinating, British 'bus. And here I have found a man who can drive me. This is my new servant, Halfred Winkles.”

Lumme stared at him, as well he might, for my Halfred cut a very different figure from the grave, polished, quietly attired Mingle. To produce the very best impression possible, he had dressed himself in a suit of conspicuously checkered cloth, very tight in the leg and wide at the foot, and surmounted by a very bright-blue scarf tightly knotted round his neck. In his button-hole was an artificial tulip, in his pocket a wonderful red-and-yellow handkerchief. His ruddy face shone so brightly that I shrewdly suspected his friend Wid-dup had scrubbed it with a handful of straw, and he held in his hand, pressed against his breast, the same shining waterproof hat beneath which he drove the 'bus.

“Left your last place long?” asked Lumme, of this apparition.

“Gave 'em notice this arternoon, sir,” said Halfred.

“Who were you with?”

“London General,” replied Halfred.

“I hope you'll turn out all right, and do my friend, the monsieur here, credit.”

As he turned to go he added to me, aside:

“Rum-looking chap, he seems to me. Keep an eye on him, I'd advise you. Personally, I'd have chosen Mingle, but o' course you know best. Good-night.”

And I was left with the faithful Halfred.

“A London general?” said Teddy. “Sounds all right. He gave you a good character, I sup——”

I interposed.

“Well,” said Lumme, dubiously,