Richard now wrote a letter on the subject of the Indo-Mediterranean railway, and he objected to the route of his friend Captain Cameron; the object was to give the Indian mails seven days instead of three weeks for letters to reach. Richard stood out stoutly for a line which should start from Tyre in Syria, tap the very richest lands in Syria, pass Ba'albak, and the once glorious valley plain of the Orontes, reaching Aleppo. During some part of this year (I cannot exactly say what day, as the letter bears only the date Thursday) Richard was invited to come to some place to meet the King of the Belgians, who had asked repeatedly for him, calling him "the Pioneer of all these African travels," and saying, "Where did you disappear to? nobody could find you;" which was just like Richard's extreme modesty, going out of the way when any honour or notice was going on. I was very unhappy at Richard's determination to go once more to Egypt to try his luck about the mines; still, as there were such great hopes depending on it, and there was not enough money for both of us, he had to go and I had to stay. There was nothing for it but to go and see him off. He desired me to give our usual Christmas-parties, so the poor children had their feast at one o'clock on one day, the servants inviting all their friends--had a supper and a dance; then I gave my English party, which we all enjoyed very much, and passed my usual San Silvester night (in English, seeing the old year out and the new year in) at Madame Gutmansthal's, which was a settled thing whenever they and we were in Trieste. Whenever I was alone, I tried to introduce giving supper-parties only to my intimate women-friends in tea-gowns; but it did not succeed very well, as the husbands did not like not being asked. On the 11th of January I gave a party to eighty-seven of our intimate Triestine friends. The English and foreigners never assimilated; they separated into different rooms, and they both spoilt each other's pleasure. A very amusing practice, which lasted some time in the good Society of Trieste, was meeting to recite plays, French, German, and Italian, everybody taking a part, sitting round a table and each reading our part as if we were acting it. It was a very intellectual way of passing the evening, and it ended by supper. Each house took its turn. Then we used to have singing meetings on the same principle--sort of musical classes, where we went in for glees, choir music, and particular masters, such as Mendelssohn, Rubenstein, and so on. [Sidenote: _Richard sends me Home to a Bone-setter_.]