1 84 Life and Sport on the Pacific Slope 



better than it looks. He has made some tortillas 

 (pancakes) and the stew is excellent. Jim has a 

 huge pot into which he puts his game, some toma- 

 toes, an onion or two, and a double handful of rice. 

 It is needless to add that a remittance man has no 

 garden of his own. His vegetables are given to him 

 by his neighbours, humble hard-working folk to 

 whom Jim is a sealed fountain of mystery. They 

 cannot understand how it comes to pass that a 

 " high-toned, highly -educated, English gentleman " 

 is content — like the fat weed on Lethe's wharf — 

 to rot at ease, when, if he chose to exert mind and 

 muscles, a life of honourable endeavour lies within 

 his grasp. But then they know nothing of the 

 vampire which sucks from Jim's veins the good red 

 blood of every ambition. Let cruel charity fasten 

 her fangs in their throats, and they too would 

 shrivel into paupers and parasites. Take from Jim 

 his dole, force him to work, and he may attain unto 

 the full stature of a man. 



As a rule remittance men live in a small colony 

 of their own. Co-operation is no empty word to 

 them ; it spells a little polo, a little golf, billiards, 

 cards, and so forth. Play with these fellows is the 

 serious business of life, and yet they talk glibly 

 enough of their work! What a queer smack the 

 word has in their mouths ! 



I remember a trio, whom my brother and I (we 

 were reading "Trilby") used to call — les trois Aug- 

 liches. Arm in arm they would parade up and 

 down a broad road that had no beginning and no 

 end. It was not a quarter of a mile in length, but 

 smooth and level as an ivory tablet. High cliffs. 



