The Birmingham age-herald., 1917-04-15

London, March 1.-The following article although written in the form Of fiction relates the real experience of an eminent English literary man and an American friend. both of whom insist on remaining nameless.
 It was all over in so few minutes-the greeting, the few words of half-amused half-bantering comment, and Then thf farewell We had met last at a Bohem- Ian club in New York. He stood now by my side in a West End hotel here in London. Clean shaven, sturdy, his eyes his whole expression alert with intelli- gence. He held well-frosted wine glass in one hand and a watch in the other and he talked. 1 listened.
 Say. it's too bad 1 didn't know you were in town, old chap! I've been kick
 ing my heels a bit after four months work. And London's the place for it, too! War time? Who'd believe it! Why, we tried six theatres last night before we could get a couple of stalls. And such audiences. There'd be few millions for your war loan in the Jewels the women were wearing. I wonder Lloyd George don't commander them"
 It's an idea,' I began
 And the restaurants,' my friend went on ruthlessly. "Chock full everywhere. I've been across here few dozen times, as you know, but I give you my word that I never saw London half So gay be- fore. What? Come down to the country with you? Can't be done. Haven't five minutes, or five seconds. We've got to motor down to Tilbury, as it is. So long, old fellow. I'll be over again in few weeks. I've got to give one round of lectures and then I'm back aga,n.'
 He was gone-bustled away ty half a dozen compa triots, strangers to me-and I knew that he had taken back with him that most poisonous thing-a false inn presson. Words and arguments rushed to my brain and lips-too late. I hadn t a chance even of pointing out to him that 1t isn't the real pulse of England which beats in the square mile of city so cu- riously given over to a feverlSh and wholly artificial self indulgence, city where the flotsam and jetsam of many nationalities are seeking in these palpi- tating days the panacea for aching hearts, or are putting into practice the false principles of a meretriclous phi losophy. London in these days especially the West End of London-is not England. It Is typical of nothing. My friend looked only upon the froth of these churning hours. And he was gone! I hadn't a chance of showing him what is perhaps the most striking transformation of mod ern times-the utter and complete change in the day by day life of the Englishman and his wife.
 Being a person of imagination, however, did the next best thing. I took his ghost home with me the next evening to a little Norfolk village near the sea. We have so grown out of the habit of apologizing for the seeming but inevita- ble crudities of life that I bundled him out of the train after a five hours jour ney onto a pitch-dark platform with barely word of excuse.
 You won't mind walking up. will you?' I ask. My chauffeur's at the war and the car hung up. The porter will bring up the luggage present The parlor maid will do her best to look after your clothes. She is little awkward but very willing"
 And Robert?" my imaginary guest in quires. I've envied you your servant ever since I stayed with you last"
 Made a sergeant last week." I tell him with certain amount of pride. He's been two years at the war now, and has done we'll"