girdle, the lovely swish of my taffeta slip, and the glorious feel of my new found hair as it bounced and swayed against my shoulders as I walked. I neared the "Looking Glass" and beheld a glamourously tall and radiant "girl", with a joyous smile in her coquettish eyes as she pirouetted with flying skirts. I then realized that I had walked right through that "looking glass", right into "never-never land", that my life would ne ver be the same again, that I was "hooked but good,

and that there never would be regret. I had found what I was looking for, my search was finally ended. That night I spent my 38th birth- day with my newly found twin whom I then named Gloria. What would have been a very lonely time became a most joyous one.

++

Events followed in rapid succession. World War Two was on in Europe, we were in the midst of "Lend Lease", my product was classed as a luxury and materials were hard to come by. I found myself un- able to continue since a conversion to war work was impossible. I liquidated my business at a fraction of its worth and took a job with a competitor in the East who did have a war contract. My wife figured that I was 'finished" and sued for divorce, the fourth time in ten years. (She never knew of my "hobby"). I found myself roaming the country, drifting from job to job, town to town, working at my trade of engineer, in ship-building, aircraft, and after Japan surrendered, in farm machinery. After Germany collapsed and materials were again available I revived my former business. For seven years I had carr- ied Gloria in two locked suitcases, from job to job, place to place, dragging out the sad looking, badly wrinkled things when the urge be- came unbearable.

Then I met wife #2, a curvacious blonde divorcee, Irish as Paddy's Pig, with a disposition and temper to match. So passed seven more hectic but never dull years, seven separations, five divorce actions started. My business had prospered after a bad start and I was sudden- ly a wealthy man. My sweetie pried the locks from my suitcases, dragged out the badly wrinkled and mildewed (and now out of style) things and confronted me with them. I told her my story, an exper- ience I don't care to have ever again. A kind of armed truce began, with myself on the defensive. Then, after six years of marriage, she seemed to become suddenly understanding, brought home a black satin nightie, suggesting that I wear it, followed by two pairs of high heeled shoes, and dresses as she could find them, we purchased a wig on one of our visits to Chicago. I was overjoyed at this unexpected co-operation and made the most of this golden opportunity. However, my joy was short lived, my darling had gotten fat and sassy, and lacking grounds for divorce had decided to use my hobby to blackmail me into giving up everything I had. She invited her family and

8.