way of a holiday and partly by way of settling a vexed question, I would ride around on my bicycle and note every turn of the wheel.
Perhaps I ought to confess that the idea of doing my country a service was not paramount in my mind, for I was neither retained by the Government nor refreshed by the Opposition. I set out as a free lance, paying my own expenses and looking for no reward beyond the satisfaction of enjoying myself in a somewhat unique fashion, and, incidentally, of contributing a quota, from personal observation, towards the solving of the White Australia equation.
When my intention became known the truth of the biblical saying about a "multitude of counsellors" became pathetically apparent. Some encouraged, others commiserated, a few derided, many gave me what they called "a bit of good advice," and nearly every one called me affectionately, "old man."
It was, "Look here, old man!" and, "I'll tell you what, old man!" until I began to feel quite patriarchal notwithstanding my twenty-five years.
But there were others who came along with something more practical. Not that I wish you to infer that the good advice party was despised by me; far from it, for I heartily appreciated the kindly inten-
