'A regular Arabian nights'
entertainment!' said I, as I looked into one on Cornhill, gorgeous with
precious merchandise, and lighted up with lustres, the rays of which were
reflected from a hundred mirrors.
But, notwithstanding the excellence of the London pavement, I began about
nine o'clock to feel myself thoroughly tired; painfully and slowly did I
drag my feet along. I also felt very much in want of some refreshment,
and I remembered that since breakfast I had taken nothing. I was now in
the Strand, and, glancing about, I perceived that I was close by an
hotel, which bore over the door the somewhat remarkable name of Holy
Lands. Without a moment's hesitation I entered a well-lighted passage,
and turning to the left, I found myself in a well-lighted coffee-room,
with a well-dressed and frizzled waiter before me. 'Bring me some
claret,' said I, for I was rather faint than hungry, and I felt ashamed
to give a humbler order to so well-dressed an individual. The waiter
looked at me for a moment; then, making a low bow, he bustled off, and I
sat myself down in the box nearest to the window. Presently the waiter
returned, bearing beneath his left arm a long bottle, and between the
fingers of his right hand two large purple glasses; placing the latter on
the table, he produced a cork-screw, drew the cork in a twinkling, set
the bottle down before me with a bang, and then, standing still, appeared
to watch my movements. You think I don't know how to drink a glass of
claret, thought I to myself.
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