It would be a great aggravation of the trouble of writing about these matters if I were to stop in the midst of every sentence for the purpose of saying “so called” or “so it is said,” and would besides sound very ungraciously:  yet I am anxious to be literally true in all I write.  Now, thus it is that I mean to get over my difficulty.  Whenever in this great bundle of papers or book (if book it is to be) you see any words about matters of religion which would seem to involve the assertion of my own opinion, you are to understand me just as if one or other of the qualifying phrases above mentioned had been actually inserted in every sentence.  My general direction for you to construe me thus will render all that I write as strictly and actually true as if I had every time lugged in a formal declaration of the fact that I was merely expressing the notions of other people.

{24} “Vino d’oro.”

{25} Shereef.

{26} Tennyson.

{27} The other three cities held holy by Jews are Jerusalem, Hebron, and Safet.

{28} Hadj a pilgrim.

{29} Milnes cleverly goes to the French for the exact word which conveys the impression produced by the voice of the Arabs, and calls them “un peuple criard.”

{30} There is some semblance of bravado in my manner of talking about the plague.  I have been more careful to describe the terrors of other people than my own.  The truth is, that during the whole period of my stay at Cairo I remained thoroughly impressed with a sense of my danger.  I may almost say, that I lived in perpetual apprehension, for even in sleep, as I fancy, there remained with me some faint notion of the peril with which I was encompassed.  But fear does not necessarily damp the spirits; on the contrary, it will often operate as an excitement, giving rise to unusual animation, and thus it affected me.  If I had not been surrounded at this time by new faces, new scenes, and new sounds, the effect produced upon my mind by one unceasing cause of alarm might have been very different.  As it was, the eagerness with which I pursued my rambles among the wonders of Egypt was sharpened and increased by the sting of the fear of death.  Thus my account of the matter plainly conveys an impression that I remained at Cairo without losing my cheerfulness and buoyancy of spirits.  And this is the truth, but it is also true, as I have freely confessed, that my sense of danger during the whole period was lively and continuous.

{31} Anglice for “je le sais.”  These answers of mine, as given above, are not meant as specimens of mere French, but of that fine, terse, nervous, Continental English with which I and my compatriots make our way through Europe.  This language, by-the-bye, is one possessing great force and energy, and is not without its literature, a literature of the very highest order.  Where will you find more sturdy specimens of downright, honest, and noble English than in the Duke of Wellington’s “French” despatches?