Stately camels and dromedaries, swarthy Egyptians, and likewise Turks and black Ethiopians, turbaned, sashed, and blazing in a rich variety of Oriental costumes of all shades of flashy colors, are what one sees on every hand crowding the narrow streets and the honeycombed bazaars.

We are stopping at Shepherd's Hotel, which is the worst on earth except the one I stopped at once in a small town in the United States.

It is pleasant to read this sketch in my note-book, now, and know that I can stand Shepherd's Hotel, sure, because I have been in one just like it in America and survived: I stopped at the Benton House.

It used to be a good hotel, but that proves nothing--I used to be a good boy, for that matter.

Both of us have lost character of late years.