underground railways. Also a few, not very well chosen, theatres. We saw "Derby Day" at the Lyric Hammersmith. Baba was far, far away that evening — he seemed to be unaware of us or of the play.

On the Sunday after Baba arrived, we had a party — a children's party really — plus thirty grown-ups. Tea was set in the drawing room with balloons, crackers, cake, etc., for about eight little ones. When all were seated, Baba came down and sat by the table in the armchair. He cut the cake, distributed toys from the bran `pie', played with the balloons, and amused the little ones without speaking a word or using the board. The following is an account of this party which appeared in the Daily Herald in London on April 11th, 1932:

Revered by many as the Messiah, Shri Meher Baba, the 33-year old Indian mystic, gave a children's party in his bed-silting room in South Kensington , S.W., yesterday.

He is on his way to the United States where he will break his seven-years' silence and deliver his message, which he believes will cause a great `religious upheaval.’

From a special correspondent:

Shri Meher Baba, the `God-like sat on the floor of his room yesterday playing tiddley-winks with ten little English children. He spoke no word, though he laughed delightedly again and again.

His little blackboard, with its white alphabet on which he spells out what his vow forbids him to say, lay beside him. Nearby was a great bran pie over which be was soon to preside and in another corner, a bunch of balloons.

The little children, sons and daughters of his English disciples, loved it all. So did Shri Meher Baba. His delicate fingers flipped the bright disks from cup to cup. His liquid, rather lovely eyes gleamed with pleasure.

Afterwards, a well-known London woman, a social worker, rang me up: - When I saw Baba at South Kensington, he made room for me on his sofa. Some dry toast and some tomato sauce lay on a table, the remain of breakfast.

"The orthodox say you are a bad man. You ruin little boys by getting them to live in caves and let birds attack them," I told him.

He broke into a loud chuckle. Not just a movement of the face or lip. His whole mind was laughing.

"Dr. SLS.,, he flicked out on his board. He uses a queer shorthand. "Dear Souls,” translated a disciple, "they do not understand. I have my work to do and I will do it.”

After the tea was cleared, the grownups came and we were entertained by a very clever man who produced music from a saw. The children were very good,