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to. One of my mottoes through life has been to avoid evening func- tions and dinners as far as possible. 'Early to bed and early to rise' is a wise precept, which I read in Todd's Students' Guide while yet a boy, and I have consistently tried to practise it. Even when, as a member of the Government, I had to attend State functions, I tried to run away as early as I could. On one occasion, when Lord Strathcona gave a dinner to the Press representatives in London, of whom I was one, I quietly slipped away as soon as the dinner was over and the toasts began. Fortunately for me, there was a door left open to admit fresh air close to where I had my seat. I had marked it before dinner, and as soon as that was over, I quickly and quietly made my exit. I do not know if anybody noticed me, but I was comfortably in bed by eleven o'clock.

On another occasion, when at a meeting of the Imperial Legis- lative Council we were discussing the Rowlatt Bill, Lord Chelmsford adjourned the Council at dinner time and asked members to reas- semble in an hour and a half. I got up as soon as the announcement was made, and said, 'My Lord, I go to bed at nine o'clock'. 'You are excused, Mr. Banerjea,' said Lord Chelmsford, with that win- some goodwill which never failed him. On the following morning when we reassembled, I learnt that some of those who had attended the night sitting had to be roused from sleep to give their votes. I will give another instance to illustrate my incorrigible habit of going to bed early. This was in 1897, when Mr. Gokhale and myself were in London as witnesses for the Welby Commission. He wanted me to see Sir Henry Irving play the part of Napoleon at Drury Lane Theatre, which was close to the Hotel Victoria, where we were both staying. I said, 'If you really want me, you must drag me out of bed and let me return home by eleven o'clock'. He said, 'All right, I will do that'. I was in bed, and at nine o'clock I heard a knock at my door. On the stroke of the hour, Gokhale was there. Now there was no escape for me. I had to get up and be ready. Gokhale escorted me to the theatre, where he sat by me, watching me with keen interest. For me it was more or less a novel experience. To him also it was novel in another sense: watching a stiff-necked Puritan like myself, who avoided theatres, succumb to the charms of the greatest living actor among Englishmen. I enjoyed the acting thoroughly. For Gokhale it was a personal triumph; I shared it in the joy of the spectacle I witnessed. I never could understand, and to me it is still an enigma, how Sir Henry Irving, who was, I think, above six feet, could adapt himself to the stature of Napoleon, who