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 lived, I should at once feel that life was not worth living without a taste of it. I feel quite sure I should never be able to resist the temptation, and I guess I should succumb and eat it on the sly, and then despise myself ever afterwards, especially if I didn't like the taste of it. But still, when other people have prejudices, I always respect them. I don't believe in playfully dropping cockroaches on to people who have a horror of them, or jumping cats out of bags upon people who have a natural antipathy to them. I wouldn't go and kill a cow on a Hindu's doorstep, or give him beef in a mince under the name of mouton just for a joke. Consequently, I sympathised with the Mahomedans when they got angry because infidels had eaten ham sandwiches in their great Cathedral mosque. It was as bad as if a Mahomedan had gone into Westminster Abbey smoking a hookah, and I guess that would have made the Dean and Canons just wild. It seems that the Mahomedans objected to smoking in their mosque, too, and it was said that we should not be allowed inside again to see the fireworks on the following night as arranged. It was even whispered that the Viceroy was advised not to go. So great was the religious indignation supposed to be that the officials were actually afraid for his safety. 'I am going,' is reported to have been the Viceroy's characteristic reply to the chief of police, who gave the warning. 'You will be responsible for my safety.' Which must have comforted that official greatly. It was while we were at the polo that afternoon,