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P.S. 9-5.15. Sunday. You have no idea how happy I am in my new show. No mean petty small minded creature like Martin, a constant menace to any decent man, and the voice and dirty habits of the Little Commedian thirteen miles away. My show they may call not great, and the gentry will be abusing me in all sorts of ways. Never mind that is their part of the game not mine. It is a nuisance to be particular, but it is my way and for being so the responsibility is mine. Accept it willingly do I.
Yesterday after noon General Sir John Maxwell with his staff and Surgeon Gen. Ford called to see me, and to inspect the hospital. All went well and gave me a good commencement. Distinguished company too. Lieut. Prince Henry of Battenberg. Lieut The Marquis of Anglesey. Sir John Maxwell is chief of all the British forces in Egypt. A bluff soldier who takes a man at his worth for work and tells the duffer straight out that he is of no use. The right sort of soldier.
On waking this morning the first question that arose in my mind – "Where shall I hear mass?" Answer came. "Oh! The King of the Belgians was Chief of the syndicate, who are credited with the building of the modern Heliopolis. The beautiful Church, modelled on the Byzantine style, in the centre of the City has large plain white crosses surmounting every dome and spire, it may be a Catholic Church of the Roman communion. Get horse, ride there first and find out. Set out on the horse at 7.30 a.m., gallope across the sand, trotted along the streets, arrived at the Church door, gave the reins to an arab, accosted a man whom I took to be French – "Monsieur. L'eglise Catholic, si vous plais?" "Yes Sir. The Catholic Church", came prompt reply. Sorry that I used French words. Read a notice on the right hand side of entrance "Roman Catholic Church." Walked inside.