I did go to the Well of Moses-
-if a small dirty pool of salt water, lying high above the sands,
can be called a well; I did eat my dinner in the miserable ruined
cottage which they graced by the name of a pavilion; and, alas for
my poor bones! I did ride home upon a camel. If Sir George did so
early, and started for Pegu the next morning--and I was informed
such was the fact--he must have been made of iron. I laid in bed
the whole day suffering greviously; but I was told that on such a
journey I should have slakened my throat with oranges, and not with
brandy.
I survived those four terrible days which remained to me at Suez,
and after another month was once again in Friday Street. I suffered
greatly on the occasion; but it is some consolation to me to reflect
that I smoked a pipe of peace with Mahmoud al Ackbar; that I saw the
hero of Begum while journeying out to new triumphs at Pegu; that I
sailed into Asia in my own yacht--hired for the occasion; and that I
rode back into Africa on a camel. Nor can Judkins, with all his
ill-nature, rob me of these remembrances.
End of Project Gutenberg Etext George Walker At Suez, by Anthony Trollope
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