After breakfast I found the Major making grand preparations again.  I asked what it was for, and he said this was the Prince of Wales’s birthday.  It had to be celebrated that evening.  We celebrated it.  Much against my expectations, we had another splendid time.  We kept it up till some time after midnight again.  I was tired of soda, and so I changed off for lemonade.  I drank several quarts.  You may consider lemonade better for a steady drink than soda-water; but it isn’t so.  In the morning it had soured on my stomach.  Biting anything was out of the question—­it was equivalent to lockjaw.  I was beginning to feel worn and sad too.

Shortly after luncheon, I found the Major in the midst of some more preparations.  He said this was the Princess Alice’s birthday.  I concealed my grief.

“Who is the Princess Alice?” I asked.

“Daughter of her Majesty the Queen,” the Major said.

I succumbed.  That night we celebrated the Princess Alice’s birthday.  We kept it up as late as usual, and really I enjoyed it a good deal.  But I could not stand lemonade.  I drank a couple of kegs of ice-water.

In the morning I had toothache, and cramps, and chilblains, and my teeth were on edge from the lemonade, and I was still pretty gassy, I found the inexorable Major at it again.

“Who is this for?” I asked.

“His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh,” he said.

“Son of the Queen?”

“Yes.”

“And this is his birthday—­you haven’t made any mistake?”

“No; the celebration comes off to-night.”

I bowed before the new calamity.  We celebrated the day.  I drank part of a barrel of cider.  Among the first objects that met my weary and jaundiced eye the next day was the Major at his interminable preparations again.  My heart was broken, and I wept.

“Whom do we mourn this time?” I said.

“The Princess Beatrice, daughter of the Queen.”

“Here, now,” I said; “it is time to inquire into this thing.  How long is the Queen’s family likely to hold out?  Who comes next on the list?”

“Their Royal Highnesses the Duke of Cambridge, the Princess Royal, Prince Arthur, Princess Mary of Teck, Prince Leopold, the Grand-duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, the Grand-duchess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, Prince ...”

“Hold!  There’s a limit to human endurance.  I am only mortal.  What man dare do, I dare; but he who can celebrate this family in detail, and live to tell it, is less or more than man.  If you have to go through this every year, it is a mercy I was born in America, for I haven’t constitution enough to be an Englishman.  I shall have to withdraw from this enterprise.  I am out of drinks.  Out of drinks, and so many more to celebrate!  Out of drinks, and only just on the outskirts of the family yet, as you may say!  I am sorry enough to have to withdraw, but it is plain enough that it has to be done.  I am full of gas, and my teeth are loose, and I am wrenched with cramps, and afflicted with scurvy, and toothache, measles, mumps, and lockjaw, and the cider last night has given me the cholera.  Gentlemen, I mean well; but really I am not in a condition to celebrate the other birthdays.  Give us a rest.”