[p.16]CHAPTER II.
I LEAVE ALEXANDRIA.
THE thorough-bred wanderer's idiosyncracy I presume to be a composition
of what phrenologists call "inhabitiveness" and "locality" equally and
largely developed. After a long and toilsome march, weary of the way,
he drops into the nearest place of rest to become the most domestic of
men. For a while he smokes the "pipe of permanence"[FN#1] with an
infinite zest; he delights in various siestas during the day, relishing
withal deep sleep during the dark hours; he enjoys dining at a fixed
dinner hour, and he wonders at the demoralisation of the mind which
cannot find means of excitement in chit-chat or small talk, in a novel
or a newspaper. But soon the passive fit has passed away; again a
paroxysm of ennui coming on by slow degrees, Viator loses appetite, he
walks about his room all night, he yawns at conversations, and a book
acts upon him as a narcotic. The man wants to wander, and he must do
so, or he shall die.
After about a month most pleasantly spent at Alexandria, I perceived
the approach of the enemy, and as nothing hampered my incomings and
outgoings, I surrendered. The world was "all before me," and there was
pleasant excitement in plunging single-handed into its chilling depths.
My Alexandrian Shaykh, whose heart