"MY CUMMERBUND."
Sunday.—At Club. Conversation (learned) about epidemics. Heard somebody (an authority of course on the subject) say, "Oh, rub plenty of camphor into your cummerbund." Replied, "Yes; good idea." Wrote it down. Was going to question him as to details, but found he had quitted the club. Know what camphor is, not quite certain as to "cummerbund." Think it's Indian. Called in at Oriental Club. Old Oriental says, "Only natives wear cummerbunds." Oh, then "cummerbund" is not something to eat or drink? "No; it's a kind of cloth. Get 'em anywhere now." Anywhere? It appears I am behind the age. Everyone, except myself apparently, knows all about a "cummerbund." It sounds a bit Scotch; also German. "Cummer" Scotch; "Bund" German. German Bund. To be obtained at hosier's, or at any emporium for Indian clothing. Good.
Monday.—Bought cummerbund. Bright colour; neat. Bought also large bottle of camphor. Rubbed it in. Strong smell—more than strong. But self-preservation is first law, &c., &c., so get accustomed to it. After one day's wearing, don't notice saturated cummerbund. Quite accustomed to it.
Tuesday.—Went to see Smith. "Hullo, old fellow," he says, "afraid of moths in your clothes, eh?" Ask what he means. He mentions strong smell of camphor. I explain my preventive measures. "Oh, that's all very well!" he returns; "but the very best thing is to soak your shirt in turpentine. I'm sure of it." Sure he is right, because he is a student at Guy's. Thank him warmly for this life-saving hint. Rush home; follow his advice. Beastly smell at first, but soon cease to notice it. Continue wearing camphorated cummerbund also, as an extra precaution. Call on Mrs. Montgomery-Mumby. Sweet girl her niece! Somehow she seems to avoid me, a thing she never did before. So they all do, and I have no one to talk to but a crippled uncle of theirs, who apparently has a bad cold in his head, for he holds his handkerchief to his nose all the time. Jones called. Says he has seen Smith. "By Jove!" he exclaims, "you've been going in for oil painting, or chemistry, or something. There's a tremendous smell of turpentine." I explain. "Oh, there's no harm in that," he says; "but a far better thing is to wet your waistcoat with carbolic acid. Antiseptic, you know." Now he is a student at Bart's, and probably knows as much as Smith. Thank him, and resolve to try his preventive in addition to the other. Down to Eastbourne. Everyone clears out of railway carriage soon after I get in, except one old man, who says he is a medical man, and that a plentiful use of disinfectants is no doubt advisable.
Wednesday.—Meet Robinson on the Parade. Says he saw Smith on Tuesday. Asks me what I think of the epidemic scare. Explain my precautions. "Thought I noticed an awful smell," he says. "Hope it's all right. As for me, I believe there's nothing like pouring sulphuretted hydrogen all over the inside of your coat. Had it from my uncle, who was Medical Officer of Health at Benares." An invaluable suggestion; buy a bottle, and follow his directions when dressing for dinner. Horrible stench, like rotten eggs! However, soon get accustomed to it. To a dance at the Cholmondeley-Chicks's. Never more annoyed in my life. Every girl says she has no dance left. What can have offended them all? The only partner I have is Cholmondeley-Chick's maiden aunt, and she faints in my arms after going once round the room. However, I have a good supper, for the dining-room is quite empty all the time I am in it, so I can get as much as I like.
Thursday.—Back to town. Tomkins looks in. Says he saw Smith the other day. Then looks curiously all round room. "Do you keep eggs in this room?" he asks; "hot weather turned 'em bad, eh?" Explain that I have used sulphuretted hydrogen. "Those chemical things," he says, holding his nose, "are not half so good as plain, homely preparations. The finest thing of all is to soak all your clothes in gin and peppermint. Had it from a man who ought to know, for he spent last autumn in Hamburg and used bottles full." Thank him with sincere gratitude, and as soon as possible try this new precaution. To theatre. People near me begin a great talking. Commissionaire asks me to leave. Says "money will be returned." Hanged if I go! I've paid for this seat. Then a fearful uproar starts. Do not remember details of fight, but find myself "chucked" into the roadway. Policeman picks me up as drunk and incapable. Spend night in police-cell. * * * * Explanations magisterially accepted.... Apology given and taken. Off (with the cummerbund), and away for a tour in the North.
