66 Years Old To-day and 40 of Them in Shanghai We have pleasure in counting ourselves as probably the first today in offering congratulations to Mr. Harold Browett, who celebrates the 66th anniversary of his birth, and neither looks like it nor lives Tike, it, If Mr. Browett was not so solidly worldly as to be one of Shanghai's well-known men, to be a veteran of the port, with interesting recollect irons of "well, let me think: it must ave been cighteen-seventy-something, but,.of course, you wouldn't remember it," and if he did not have birthdays, instead of interviewing him for a news' story, one might make him a figure in a novel. A typical oldatyle family solicitor, with an office which, even in Sharghai, reminds one of those quaint old places in Chancery Lane and other purlieus "of the Law Courts, or the back alleys of the City, stacked with books and papers in orderly disarray, which are an unzolvable problem' to anyone but himself, but into which lhe can dive in an instant and produce the unquestionable decision of one of Queen Anne's judges on when an apple is ripe, which still holds Covent Garden in thrall.
One suffers one disappointment only when going to interview Mr. Browett. One should be met by a suave, "silvery-haired "little old gentleman in a shiny-black tail-coat and a made-up bow tie who insists firs on knowing the fall details of one's business, "because I have Served Master' Harold all his life, and his father before him.
Bat those do not exist in Shanghai—only a brisk Chinese interpreter who, say: "Goodmorningyouwancheestemisterbrowett Hegoouthecomebacktwentyminutes."
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.