210 
THE MACH IKS. 
scientist, lie and H. have as unfailing enjoyment 
in each other's society as my sister-like friend, 
his wife, and I have in our happy companion- 
ship. Mrs Maehik has a perfect mania for 
tidiness, hut she endures with the kindest for- 
bearance the litter of our treasures scattered in 
verandah and apartment. Although I have 
some qualms on her account, I must also have 
regard to H.’s oft-reiterated prayer “ not to tidy 
away his things.” I have some lurking doubts 
on the subject, but he ever assures me that 
“ there is method in his disorder.” In a wander- 
ing and hut life a great complacency gradually 
comes over the most fastidious nature, and 
happily blunts the edge of one’s fidgetiness. 
At first I fretted sorely over the thick dusting 
of powder which constantly falls in a hut made 
from green bamboos. This is the work of a tiny 
insect, which commences to bore in the reed the 
moment it begins to dry. Books, instruments, 
and every level surface are covered in the morn- 
ing, and w T hen dusted, the gentle shower soon 
coats all again. I now reason that nothing could 
be cleaner than this fine sawdust, which can be 
whisked away with a feather, or blown with a 
breath, wdien anything is to be used. 
The Machiks are Hungarian ; they have been 
