one arm and capable of standing up may vote, and voters may poll on
horseback; boy scouts and women and children do not vote, though there
is a vigorous agitation to remove these disabilities. Zulus and foreign-
looking persons, such as East Indian cavalry and American Indians, are
also disfranchised. So are riderless horses and camels; but the elephant
has never attempted to vote on any occasion, and does not seem to desire
the privilege. It influences public opinion quite sufficiently as it is
by nodding its head.

We have set out and I have photographed one of our cities to illustrate
more clearly the amusement of the game. Red End is to the reader's
right, and includes most of the hill on which the town stands, a shady
zoological garden, the town hall, a railway tunnel through the hill, a
museum (away in the extreme right-hand corner), a church, a rifle range,
and a shop. Blue End has the railway station, four or five shops,
several homes, a hotel, and a farm-house, close to the railway station.
The boundary drawn by me as overlord (who also made the hills and
tunnels and appointed the trees to grow) runs irregularly between the
two shops nearest the cathedral, over the shoulder in front of the town
hall, and between the farm and the rifle range.

The nature of the hills I have already explained, and this time we have
had no lakes or ornamental water. These are very easily made out of a
piece of glass--the glass lid of a box for example--laid upon silver
paper. Such water becomes very readily populated by those celluloid
seals and swans and ducks that are now so common. Paper fish appear
below the surface and may be peered at by the curious. But on this
occasion we have nothing of the kind, nor have we made use of a green-
colored tablecloth we sometimes use to drape our hills. Of course, a
large part of the fun of this game lies in the witty incorporation of