I will assume, for the sake of argument, that my genial and ever courteous friend, Dr. Farren Farce, has given me a and is looking at me through his confidence-inspiring spectacles.

I will suppose my esteemed medical adviser is observing,

After such an (imaginary) decision I have of course only to obey (supposititious) orders. I am living in London, and if I have to obtain change of

The matter is soon arranged. We (our party is to consist of five) are to leave St. Paul's by the excellent train starting shortly after ten, and reaching Whitstable at about noon. There are faster conveyances than this on the same well-managed line of the S. E. and C. D., but this particular suits all our conveniences. It is neither too early nor too late: just the proper moment for starting and arriving. We are not disturbed at our breakfast, and can get to Whitstable just in time for lunch. On our journey down we talk music and the drama, social topics, and law and police. We note the extensive alterations at Bisley, the site-changing castle at Rochester (which first appears on our right, then on our left, and ultimately gets behind us), and the deserted hop-gardens of Kent. The day is delightful. Blue sky and warm sun, with just a tinge of sharpness in the air telling of the approaching autumn. The run down to the coast takes less than no time, and we have scarcely leisure for a game of penny nap before we have reached Whitstable. Our host is on the platform ready to offer us a

asks our host good-naturedly, as he notices that I am searching for something or other.

I reply.

returns my friend.

And then we make our first acquaintance with the oysters.