Page 112—Forty Ways Of Travelling

and four men trotted away to Mysore, the Great Rajah said he had not got one, perhaps the NIZAM of Hyderabad could assist me. I got into a horse-sedan, went

to Hyderabad, saw the Nizam, he did not know and suggested the GRAND MAHUNT of Benares. I got into a horse-palenkeen, made straight for the

City of the Sacred Shrines, saw the head of the Hindoo Faith, he did not know where it could be got, but had I asked the THACKOOR of Bhrownnuggar? No!—or the Swat of Ackoond, or the Mudor of Cassala, or the Hospodar of Wallachia, or the Aboona of Gondar or the Patriarch of Constantinople, or the Archbishop of Canterbury? I said most decidedly not—that I would not waste my time consulting such insignificant magnates, then, says he, just you ask the GURO of the Sikhs. I jumped astride of a Bramah Bull, and

trotted away to Amritsar; saw the head of the Sikh Faith, he had not got the article, had not heard of it, but advised me to apply to the AMEER of Afghanistan. I got into an ox dooly and at

length reached Cabul, saw the Ameer, he had not got it, had not seen it, nor heard of it, did not believe the article existed, but the KHAN of Bokhara could speak more positively about it. I got into a Tocan or Hamockeen and was

carried by two men to Bokhara, interviewed the Khan, he said it was absurd for the Ameer to send to him, he knew nothing about it, but the SHAH of Persia probably did. I got into a mule sleigh,

glided away to Teheran, enquired of the Shah, could get no satisfaction, he never heard of it, was I sure there was such an article in existence? I told him that I wanted to find out, but I thought there must be somewhere. Oh, then, said he, try the CHIEF RABBI of Jerusalem. I got into a coach, tore away to

the Holy City of the Jews, asked the head of the Jewish Faith, he had not one, I had better ask the PASHA of Damascus. I jumped astride of a bicycle,

trundled away to the oldest city in the world; asked the Pasha, he could not say, I had better ask the EMIR of the Druses. I creeped up the Lebanon in a bullock-waggon, saw and asked the

head of the Druse Faith, he referred me to the BEY of Tunis. I got on to a tricycle, rode to Tunis, saw the Bey,

he could not tell, perhaps the POPE of Rome could. I jumped into a ship,

made for the Eternal City, asked the head of the Christian Church, His Holiness could not tell, perhaps the GRAND SEIGNEUR of Turkey might. I stepped into a railway steam carriage, swept

around to the Golden Horn; saw His Sublime Mightiness the PADISHAW, he

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