At the principal hotel I fell in with the Major of the 42nd Fusiliers,
and a dozen other hearty and hospitable Englishmen, and they invited me
to join them in celebrating the Queen's birthday. I said I would be
delighted to do it. I said I liked all the Englishmen I had ever
happened to be acquainted with, and that I, like all my countrymen,
admired and honoured the Queen. But I said there was one insuperable
drawback--I never drank anything strong upon any occasion whatever, and
I did not see how I was going to do proper and ample justice to
anybody's birthday with the thin and ungenerous beverages I was
accustomed to.

The Major scratched his head, and thought over the matter at
considerable length; but there seemed to be no way of mastering the
difficulty, and he was too much of a gentleman to suggest even a
temporary abandonment of my principles. But by-and-by he said:

"I have it. Drink soda-water. As long as you never do drink anything
more nutritious, there isn't any impropriety in it."

And so it was settled. We met in a large parlour, handsomely decorated
with flags and evergreens, and seated ourselves at a board well laden
with creature comforts, both solid and liquid. The toasts were happy,
and the speeches were good, and we kept it up until long after midnight.
I never enjoyed myself more in my life. I drank thirty-eight bottles of
soda-water. But do you know that that is not a reliable article for a
steady drink? It is too gassy. When I got up in the morning I was full
of gas, and as tight as a balloon. I hadn't an article of clothing that
I could wear, except my umbrella.