Nothing Better Cared For, Nothing More Altogether Charming
Could Be Conceived.
First of all there is the railway, which, passing
between balustrades painted a grass-green, gives out its fascinating
noise and joyous smoke.
On one side is a row of hotels and shops, all
European in character - hairdressers, perfumers, and numerous dark
rooms for the use of the many amateur photographers, who make a point
of taking away with them photographs of their travelling companions
grouped tastefully before some celebrated hypogeum.
And then numerous cafes, where the whisky is of excellent quality.
And, I ought to add, in justice to the result of the /Entente
Cordiale/, you may see there, too, aligned in considerable quantities
on the shelves, the products of those great French philanthropists, to
whom indeed our generation does not render sufficient homage for all
the good they have done to its stomach and its head. The reader will
guess that I have named Pernod, Picon and Cusenier.
It may be indeed that the honest fellahs and Nubians of the
neighbourhood, so sober a little while ago, are apt to abuse these
tonics a little. But that is the effect of novelty, and will pass. And
anyhow, amongst us Europeans, there is no need to conceal the fact -
for we do not all make use of it involuntarily? - that alcoholism is a
powerful auxiliary in the propagation of our ideas, and that the
dealer in wines and spirits constitutes a valuable vanguard pioneer
for our Western civilisation.
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