ble to send her husband "the
excellent news of his appointment to the Consulate of Damascus." He
heard of it first, however, not from her letter, but casually in a cafe
at Lima, just as he was preparing to return home. On arriving in England
almost his first business was to patent a pistol which he had invented
especially for the use of travellers, and then he and Mrs. Burton
gave themselves the pleasure of calling on old friends and going into
society. To this date should, perhaps, be assigned the story [218] of
Archbishop, afterwards Cardinal Manning, and the Odd Fish. Burton had
just presented to the Zoological Gardens a curious fish which lived
out of water, and took but little nourishment. He had often presented
different creatures to the Zoo, though nobody had ever thanked him, but
this gift created some commotion, and "Captain Burton's Odd Fish" became
the talk of London.

In the midst of its popularity Burton one day found himself seated at
a grand dinner next to his good friend the long, lean and abstemious
Archbishop Manning. But much as Burton liked Manning, he could never
bear to be near him at meal times. Manning always would eat little
and talk much; so Burton, who was a magnificent trencherman, suffered
serious inconvenience, and the present occasion proved no exception.
It was in vain that Burton urged the Archbishop to mortify himself by
eating his dinner. After a while Mrs. Burton, who sat on the other side
of the Archbishop, remarked "Richard must take you to the Zoo and show
you his famous fish." "I'll certainly go," said Manning, turning to
Burton, "I am really curious to see it." "Then my Lord," followed
Burton, "there will be a pair of odd fish. You know, you neither eat nor
drink, and that's the peculiarity of the other fish."

As usual when in England, Burton spoke at several public meetings, and
Mrs. Burton, of whose appearance he continued to be justifiably proud,
generally accompanied him on the platform. Before speaking he always ate
sparingly, saying "No" to almost everything. On one of such evenings
he was the guest of Dr. Burton, and by chance, hot curry, his favourite
dish, was placed on the table. "Now this is real wickedness, cousin,"
he exclaimed, "to have hot curry when I can't eat it." When dinner was
nearly over somebody came in with a basket of damask roses. "Ask for two
of them," whispered Burton to his wife. She did, and appeared with them
in her bosom on the platform, "And oh,