magazines that are sold in railway stations. Under a silly pseudonym I drew dirty pictures of naked women to which I usually appended appropriate verses from the Rubaiyat. Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit Of This and That endeavour and dispute; Better be merry with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit. Some for the Glories of This World; and some Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come; Ah, take the Cash, and let the Promise go, Nor heed the music of a distant Drum! And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die Lift not your hands to It for help—for It As impotently rolls as you or I. There was at this period in my life a maiden who pleaded with me to give up drink. "You can't go on drinking every day from morning to night that way." She was a girl of seventeen or so who worked in a little tobacco shop across the way from the bar. Yoshiko—that was her name—was a pale girl with crooked teeth. Whenever I went to buy cigarettes she would smile and repeat her advice. "What's wrong with drinking? Why is it bad? `Better be merry with the fruitful Grape than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.' Many years ago there was a Persian .. . no, let's skip it. 'Oh, plagued no more with
Human or Divine, To-morrow's tangle to itself resign: And lose your fingers in the tresses of The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine.' Do you understand?" "No, I don't." "What a stupid little girl you are. I'm going to kiss you."
