ndon on the 12th. He took with him
"a ton or so of books" in an enormous trunk painted one half black the
other white--"the magpie chest" which henceforth always accompanied him
on his travels. At the various stations in England there were lively
scenes, the company demanding for luggage excess, and Burton vigorously
protesting but finally paying. He then took the value out by reeling off
a spirited address to the railway clerk, punctuated with expletives in
twenty odd African or Asiatic languages, on the meanness of the clerk's
employers.

80. Tonic Bitters.

Always suffering from impecuniosity, the Burtons were perpetually
revolving schemes for increasing their income. One was to put on the
market a patent pick-me-up, good also for the liver, to be called,
"Captain Burton's Tonic Bitters," the recipe of which had been "acquired
from a Franciscan monk." "Its object," observed Burton facetiously, to
a friend, "is to make John Bull eat more beef and drink more beer." Mrs.
Burton imagined naively that if it were put into a pretty bottle the
demand would exceed the supply. They had hopes, too, for the Camoens,
which had taken many years of close application and was now approaching
completion. Still, it was argued that a Translation of Camoens, however
well done, could not hope for the success of a well-advertised liver
tonic, seeing that while most people have a liver, it is only here
and there one who has a taste for Camoens. The tonic was placed on the
market, but the scheme, like so many others, proved a fiasco. Nobody
seemed to want to be picked up, and the indifference of a Christian
nation to the state of its liver, was to Burton extremely painful. So he
abandoned philanthropy, and took to lecturing before the Anthropological
and other societies, dining out, and calling on old friends. One
Sunday he visited the Zoo; but when he asked for a glass of beer at the
refreshment bar, the girl declined to serve him because he was "not a
bona-fide traveller!"

In 1875, Burton's portrait, painted by the late Lord Leighton, was
exhibited in the Academy; and on July 6th of the same year, Burton
started off on a second trip to Iceland, which occupied him six weeks,
but he and his wife did not meet again till October 6th. On December
4th (1875) they left London for the Continent. The morning was black as
midnight. Over the thick snow hung a dense, murky fog, while "a dull red
gleam just rendered the darkness visible."