After Half A Mile's March, We
Exchanged Affectionate Adieus, Received Much Prudent Advice About Keeping
Watch And Ward At Night, Recited The Fatihah With Upraised Palms, And With
Many Promises To Write Frequently And To Meet Soon, Shook Hands And
Parted.
The soldiers gave me a last volley, to which I replied with the
"Father of Six."
You see, dear L., how travelling maketh man _banal_. It is the natural
consequence of being forced to find, in every corner where Fate drops you
for a month, a "friend of the soul," and a "moon-faced beauty." With
Orientals generally, you _must_ be on extreme terms, as in Hibernia,
either an angel of light or, that failing, a goblin damned. In East Africa
especially, English phlegm, shyness, or pride, will bar every heart and
raise every hand against you [3], whereas what M. Rochet calls "a certain
_rondeur_ of manner" is a specific for winning affection. You should walk
up to your man, clasp his fist, pat his back, speak some unintelligible
words to him,--if, as is the plan of prudence, you ignore the language,--
laugh a loud guffaw, sit by his side, and begin pipes and coffee. He then
proceeds to utilise you, to beg in one country for your interest, and in
another for your tobacco. You gently but decidedly thrust that subject out
of the way, and choose what is most interesting to yourself. As might be
expected, he will at times revert to his own concerns; your superior
obstinacy will oppose effectual passive resistance to all such efforts; by
degrees the episodes diminish in frequency and duration; at last they
cease altogether.
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