The Order Of The

Bath

SOME years ago, on the “Montoro” from South, I had the Governor of Papua, Sir Hubert Murray, as a fel low passenger.

On the first morning out, the tall fig ure of H.E. preceded me to the bath room. Here, the usual business of listing the passengers and allocating their baths was in progress.

A new steward was on duty.

“This way, sir”, he said to the Gover nor. “And the name, sir?”

“Murray”, answered His Ex., mildly.

“Right ho, Mr. Murray”, said the stew ard, heartily. “Go right ahead”—and, crossing to the list, he scrawled across the entire allocated name-space the le gend “Mr. Murray”.

The Governor, indifferent to this de motion, proceeded to his bath.

“Hey!” I interposed. “Half a mo’. That’s not ‘Mr.’ Murray; that’s Sir Hubert”.

“Why, dammit”, said the steward, “ ’E’s just told me his name is Murray”.

“Yes. but it’s Sir Hubert Murray—not ‘mister’ ”.

“ ’Ave it your own way”, said the stew ard obligingly and. striking out the “Mr” above it, wrote “Sir”.

“Even now”. I said, “It’s hardly cor rect. Sir Murray is not the usual form.

Actually he is His Excellency Sir Hubert Murray, K.C.M.G., Lieutenant Governor”.

“Gripes!” exclaimed the steward, eyeing in dismay the already over-crowded name space, with its alteration jammed up against the line above. “Not much room for a yard of moniker like that!”

Then he had a brain-wave, and, can celling the “Sir”, he wrote in microscopic letters, “Lord”. I gave it up.

Presently, H.E. emerged from the bath cubicle, his face ruddy from towelling.

“ ’Ave a good bath, my lord?” inquir ed the brisk little attendant, hurrying forward with an armful of fresh towels.

“Next gentleman, please”.

And the newly-elevated peer passed on without batting an eye.

It might be supposed that the above rather dizzying vicissitudes would have been enough for one voyage; but still greater social advancement was to come to the Governor before he escaped at Port Moresby.

The sports committee had got under way early, and an enterprising tourist was making the rounds of the passen gers, soliciting names for entry in the various games being organised. Having added my name to the list he remarked: “Well, I think that’s everybody”. Then his roving eye alighted on Sir Hubert, sitting apart, reading.

“Who’s that bloke?” asked the tourist.

I told him it was Sir Hubert Murray.

Papua’s Governor, and suggested he might like a fling at deck tennis, quoits or whatever was going.

Nothing loth, the tourist swooped down on his unsuspecting prey saying: “Ex cuse me. your Highness, but would you like to enter for the sports?”

“His Highness”, with a twinkle, de

dined.

W.G.

Rev. J. W. Dixon, Principal of the Training Institution in Papua, arrived at Cairns, by the last “Montoro” and travelled South by train.