, with nothing to eat except
themselves, and I estimate that there were a million Cairo fleas in
the flask, enough to set up housekeeping in your palace, with enough to
stock the palace of your Crown Prince when he is married, and this is
that you may remember the visit of Peck's Bad Boy and his Dad."

[Illustration: Dad leaned against a lamp post and scratched his back
364]

The Emperor was mad at first, but he laughed, and when we got out of the
palace dad leaned against a lamp post and scratched his back, and said
to me, "Hennery, you never ought to have did it," and I said, "What
could a poor boy do when called upon suddenly to do something to
entertain royalty?"

"Well," says dad, "I don't care for myself, but this thing is apt to
bring on international complications," and I said, "Yes, it will bring
Persia into it, cause they will have to use Persian insect powder to get
rid of them," and then we went to our hotel and fought fleas all night,
and thought of the sleepless night the royal family were having.

Well, so long, old Pummernickel.

Your only,

Hennery.

CHAPTER XXIX.

The Bad Boy Writes from Brussels--He and Dad see the Field
of Waterloo and call on King Leopold and Dad and the King go
in for a Swim--The Bad Boy, a Dog and some Goats do the
rest.

Brussels, Belgium.--Dear Old Skate: "What is the matter with our going
to Belgium?" said dad to me, as we were escaping from Germany. "Well,
what in thunder do we want to go to Belgium for?" said I to dad. "I do
not want to go to a country that has no visible means of support, except
raising Belgian hares, to sell to cranks in America. I couldn't eat
rabbits without thinking I was chewing a piece of house cat, and rabbits
is the chief food of the people. I have eaten horse and mule in Paris,
and wormy figs in Turkey, and embalmed beef fried in candle grease
in Russia, and sausage in Germany, imported from the Leutgart sausage
factory in Chicago, where the man run his wife through a sausage
machine; and stuff in Egypt, with ground mummy for curry powder, but I
draw the line on Belgian hares, and I strike right here, and shall have
the International Union of Amalgamated Tourists declare a boycott on
Belgium, by gosh," said I, just like that, bristling up to dad real
spunky.

"You are going to Belgium all right," said dad, as he took hold of my
thumb in a Jiu Jitsu fashion, and twisted it backwards until I fairly
penuked, and