THE "THURSDAY ISLAND PILOT," WHICH IS BELIEVED TO BE THE SMALLEST NEWSPAPER IN THE WORLD.
I thought that I might venture on a little humour just to liven up the conversation, so, pointing to the building, I said:—
"A cow shed, I suppose?"
He followed the direction of my outstretched finger, and a pained look came into his eyes.
"That's the hotel you're going to stay at," he said.
I gasped, but blundered on.
"What a horrible-looking hole!" I cried. "I shall never be able to get my wife to stay there."
"It's not so bad inside," was the reply, in rather a peculiar tone of voice.
The rest of our tramp was finished in a strained silence. I thought that, perhaps, as secretary of the club, my new friend was afraid that the accommodation would not please me. On the steps of the club I was met by a dapper little gentleman, and my companion, nodding to both of us, turned on his heel and disappeared.