to the ears of the governor, he thought it best
to ignore it, according to the fashion of the
day.

Doctor James afforded a good illustration of
the triumph of mind over matter. Tetchy as he
was, he never excited any professional jealousy
albeit, in defiance of all precedent, he was
promoted on the staff as full surgeon without doing
a day's regimental duty. Frail in body, unique
in appearance, and eccentric in manner, he
ensured respect by his capacity; and, as he
could be courteous when he pleased, his
oddities were excused by his colleagues. He
must have realised at this period considerable
sums by his private practice, but he never
changed his mode of living. He kept a black
servant, a serviceable pony, and a small dog
called Psyche. Most of Psyche's successors
bore her name. This queer quartet usually took
their walks abroad in company, and were a well-
known group at Cape Town.

On Doctor James's return to England, he was
offered an appointment at another colonial
station. Here, owing to the climate, or possibly
to non-appreciation, he grew discontented, and,
without making any official application for leave
of absence, on plea of sickness or "urgent
private affairs," took his departure for
England.

He would chuckle as he related the story of
his unlooked-for reappearance before the
director-general of the medical department in
London. "Sir," said the director, "I do not
understand your reporting yourself in this
fashion. You admit you have returned without
leave of absence. May I ask how this is?"

"Well," said James, coolly running his Iong
white fingers through his crisp sandy curls, "I
have come home to have my hair cut."

He more than once defied the rules of the
service with impunity, and invariably boasted
that he could have his choice of quarters. And
he had. He was counted a lucky fellow; but
who he was, or what he was, never ceased to be
a question of debate among his brethren less
fortunate than he.

It would scarcely be supposed that he would
submit to the banishment of St. Helena, but he
thought "it might suit him very well," and he
accepted it. It did suit him very well, until he
made it too hot to hold him. The climate
pleased him. The fruits and delicate vegetables
were strong considerations with him. His
health was more settled than in former days,
his reputation was high, and he had brought with
him his usual letters of introduction. Despite
his shuffling gait, he might have been no more
than thirty, although he had been an M.D.
nearly twenty-four years! His smooth face,
his sandy hair, his boyish voice, and a tolerable
set of teeth, contributed essentially to his
juvenile appearance.

He was now principal medical officer. He
installed himself in a pretty cottage at the head
of James Town, and revelled in the tropical
fruits, as many who read this account will
remember. A certain mango-tree was his favourite
bower. He paid well for all he had, and those
who had the best opportunities of knowing him
asserted that, selfish, odd, and cranky as he
was, he had kindness for the poor, and was
charitable without ostentation. He would go
about, bestriding his pony in strange fashion,
with an umbrella over his head. His saddle
was a curiosity. It was so comfortably padded
and so safely shaped, that, once wedged into it,
it was a marvel how he got out of it. In
uniform he was a caricature. His boot heels were
two inches above the ground, and within the
boots were soles three inches thick. Add to
these boots very long spurs, crown the sandy
curls with a cocked-hat, and complete all with
a sword big enough for a dragoon, and you
have the doctor complete. The pony was
enveloped in a net from ears to heels, and swung the
tassels about impatient of the gear. The black
man attended at the beast's head, and Psyche
tripped after them, the doctor's treble waking
up the hot silence of the one narrow street shut
in by barren rocks, and Psyche's bark making
discord at intervals.

He established himself in the old fashion at
Government House, where he was suffered to
talk of his aristocratic acquaintance, sometimes
alluding to those of other days in a manner
sufficiently puzzling. As at Cape Town, he became
the family physician, or considered himself such,
and gave himself his usual airs when called in
to a private family. He effected some great
cures, and gained the confidence of his patients.
His presence at the hospital was a signal for
the juniors to be all on the alert. The soldiers
liked him and trusted in his skill; but woe
betide the laggard medico who was not there to
receive the P. M. O., or who had swerved one
hair's-breadth from his instructions.

All went on harmoniously enough for upwards
of a year, when the doctor, in an evil moment,
picked a quarrel with an officer of the garrison.
The affair led to a challenge, which the doctor
declined in no dignified way, and it was
followed by his open expulsion from the garrison
mess as an honorary member. Finally, the
governor called for a court of inquiry, which
resulted in James being sent home under arrest.

The writer of this article witnessed his exit
from James Town. On one of those still sultry
mornings peculiar to the tropics, the measured
step of the doctor's pony woke up the echoes
of the valley. There came the P. M. O., looking
faded and crestfallen. He was in plain clothes.
He had shrunk away wonderfully. His blue
jacket hung loosely about him, his white trousers
were a world too wide, the veil garnishing
his broad straw hat covered his face, and he
carried the inevitable umbrella over his
head so that it screened him from the general
gaze. The street was deserted, but other
eyes besides the writer's looked on the group
through the Venetian blinds. No sentry
presented arms at the gates, and the familiar
quartet proceeded unnoticed along the lines to
the ship's boat in waiting.

His influence had been at work for him