CHAPTER II.
VOYAGE OUT—ADEN—BOMBAY TO DELHI.
I HAD originally intended to defer the commencement of my diary till my landing in Bombay, thinking that the outward overland journey had been so often described from the time of Albert Smith, that however vivid might be my impressions, I should but re-echo what had been already written. One touch, however, of the real East, and I changed my mind. Not that what I have seen is very different from what I had seen described. But the bustle and appearance of an Egyptian bazaar, with its wonderful commingling and harmony of colour, the strange fantastic figures met each moment, the very brats in the streets with their sore eyes and horrid squalor, seem to impel me to do something as a memorial, if only to myself, and of my feelings. And as I have not time to make any studies in colour, I must essay a description in writing, even though it should be the veriest prose.
Of the voyage from London to Brindisi nothing need be written, since even I care not to remember any of its details. One long journey by rail is much like another, one coupe resembles another outwardly at least, and the engineer, seeking always level ground, contrives to make his line as little interesting as possible. From Brindisi, however, things changed, for we passed down the coast of Greece, and even where no land is in sight the Mediterranean under a blue sky will, as the advertisers say, well repay perusal. The Albanian coast was most beautiful, all sorts of shades blue and purple rising from the vigorous tones
