THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
"You must learn to laugh such things away. But don't let that bother you. No silly thing like that shall spoil our friendship. Mercy! it's ten o'clock! time for me to go to bed. To-morrow we sail down the Nile. Isn't it wonderful! Good night."
William went into the garden for a cigar. His school-teacher could be very abrupt at times. He looked up at the sky and down at the river. The night was inexpressibly beautiful, but William's imagination took a mournful turn. Somewhere over there the two old codgers were hiking along, arguing, that is, if they weren't asleep. He had heard vague rumors of men sleeping on the backs of camels, but be doubted it; and he had excellent reasons for doubting it. Hadn't he ridden a camel out to Memphis and back and discovered a new set of muscles that clamored poignantly for recognition?
And this was the same little old creek where they had planted Moses in the bulrushes! Lately he understood why the Decalogue had been given to humanity. Nobody could live in Egypt without it, not if he went tagging around after a dragoman.
And it was strange that that old moon should be working with this old river long after the mold of ten thousand years lay upon his bones. What a speck he was!
"No silly thing like that shall spoil our friendship."
Well, after all, what more could he ask? Hadn't
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