This round game has been played very extensively in France and other
countries this year. In some circles the king has been thrown out and
all the honours put aside, which has increased the fright to a very
great extent, as it was always doubtful what low card would be the next
turn up. Hitherto the clubs have been uppermost, and the knaves have
shared all the spoil; but people are just beginning to see through the
game, and are calling for a fresh pack; so we hope there will soon be an
end to fright.
A POCKET-BOOK PICKED UP IN THE GREAT
DESERT.
(SUPPOSED TO HAVE BELONGED TO A FASHIONABLE TOURIST.)
The Great Desert is only solitary confinement applied to travelling.
If you wish to know yourself, travel by yourself; and, egad! you will
never wish to renew the intimacy.
I can't make out the Sphinx; but I suppose it must have been the first
likeness taken in stone. If the Egyptians could not make better riddles
than that, they were perfectly right in never trying their hands upon
another.
They say this place is very romantic; but, on my word, I cannot see it,
and I have looked everywhere. If there be a romance, it can only be a
flying volume of Sand. I recollect my eyes filling several times, and
certainly I cried once till I was nearly blinded; but on the whole I
prefer the Waverly Novels.
If the Pyramids had been in Paris, they would have been broken long ago
for barricades.
We are strange creatures; we leave London because it is empty, and come
to the Great Desert for a change; for myself, I like London best; there
may not be a soul, but you can get a sherry-cobbler, and there is the
waiter at all events to speak to.
What is Society? Running away from one's self; but here you only run to
meet yourself. You might as well turn hermit, or toll-man on Southwark
Bridge.
I have met with but one sign of civilization since I have been here, and
that was an empty soda-water bottle off Cairo!
I cannot see the fun of climbing up that Great Pyramid. It is immense
labour, and, like an election, is attended with bribery and corruption
at every step, for you have to pay those greedy Moors before they will
give you a hand, or the smallest lift.
I could not help shouting out, as I saw a big fat alderman-looking
fellow going up, "Twopence, Moor, and up goes the donkey!" It was very
vulgar, but I could not help it.
It is time that those forty centuries were relieved. I know of but one
man to do it, and that's Widdicombe.
I am certain solitude begets contempt. If I were to stop here another
day I should positively hate myself.
I had the bump of travelling, but have quite lost it now, after
travelling for a week on a camel.
Stupid people express their astonishment at the quantity of stones
collected by the Egyptians to build the Pyramids, and never bestow the
smallest wonder at the immense collection of dust; and yet the one is
just as wonderful as the other, and, I am sure, much more difficult to
get over.
Decidedly travelling in the plains of Egypt will never be comfortable
till they introduce watering-carts.
If you wish to ascertain how slowly the sand of human life trickles
through the minute glass, go to the Great Desert. But I suppose "what
must be, must;" in other words, as the Duke of Bedford would say, "Che
Sahara, Sahara." But the proverb is rather musty.
I wonder they do not lay down a railway here. No elevations required, no
tunnels excepting through the Needles, and Obelisks, and Tombs;
everything is as smooth as a billiard-table; it looks as if it had been
laid down on purpose, ready ruled for a series of lines. One thing,
however, is very plain, and that is, they do not catch me in the Great
Desert again until there is a railway!
[Illustration:
MIND OVER MATTER.
]
Cheapside at four o'clock, Gower Street on a Sunday, the Ancient
Concerts, a Jury-box in the dog-days, a pantomime in July, a Blue-book
on a wet Sunday—anything, confound it! is better than this Great Desert.
On my word, I never saw, since I have travelled, a place with so little
in it.
"Here, Bou Maza, bring my camel to the door. I'm off to London."
* * * * *
UNPUBLISHED DOGMA OF DOCTOR JOHNSON.—"The man who wears a moustache has
no right to eat vermicelli soup."