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in value to yours of telling truth to a man in the sense he understands.

Bones. Yes; I may grant so much: but my formula is a good one too.

Bowley. I promise to try it.

Bones. You have two advantages. One is the common or Garden Magic; you acquire the habit of telling truth in the low material objective sense, and nature is bound (as Levi says) "to accommodate herself to the statement of the magician." Thus, one may take hold of a hot iron, or coal, saying "It does not hurt" and it doesn't.

Bowley. I have tried that. But I thought it a question of courage and will.

The Hindus have a game they call the Act of Truth. I remember one time King Brahmadatta or some ass wanted to cross the Ganges with his army and like a fool hadn't brought pontoons; so he damned around for a hell of a time like a cat when you pepper her nose, and by and by up comes "well, I won't say a ———, but a lady of no reputation," and says, By Gosh, king, why don't we go and give long-armed Bhishma and that crowd Johnny up the Orchard? All right, saucy! says Brahmadatta, 'ow are we goin' to cross the blooming ditch?

Keep your hair on, old cock, chirps the darling of India's teeming but unsaved population. Step aside a mo, and let the Dauntless Daisy of the Deccan Drains perform. See here, boys, I'm a—well, what a flapper grows to be if she's good!—and I've been a real good 'un and always given every son of a —— what's—tut! tut! this story is a very difficult story to tell—flirted with me his dollar's worth, and Lord knows how many cents change, not to mention a rare lot of things which I will not specify, thrown in. Any one in this army who denies this can come round any time and get square free of charge.

So the river rolled back and Brahmadatta walked across and gave long-armed Bhishma the Togo Touch, and wiped the maidan with Brer Bhima, and biffed Greatly Honoured Frater Dritirashtra in the eye, and mopped up Old Man Saraswati, and clave Sir Jnanakasha