took
to "judicial astrology," and eventually made it a kind of second
profession. Curious to say, some of his predictions came true, and
thanks to this freak of fate he obtained more fame from his horoscopes
than from his canvasses. He "prognosticated," says Burton, "that I was
to become a great astrologer." Straightway Burton buried himself in
astrological and cabalistic books [56], studied the uncanny arts, and
became learned in "dark spells and devilish enginery," but his own
prophecies generally proved to be of the Moseilima type; that is to say,
the opposite invariably happened--a fatality that pursued him to the
end of life. The Rev. Robert Montgomery, with whom also he became
acquainted, was the fashionable preacher and author whom Macaulay
cudgelled so pitilessly in the Edinburgh Review. Burton's aunts, Sarah
and Georgiana, [57] who went with the crowd to his chapel, ranked the
author of "Satan, a Poem," rather above Shakespeare, and probably few
men have received higher encomiums or a greater number of wool-work
slippers.

Having been sworn in at the East India House, Burton went down to
Greenwich, whence on 18th June, 1842, after being "duly wept over," he,
in company with his beautifully built bull-terrier of renowned pedigree,
set sail for Bombay. He divided his time during the voyage, which lasted
four months, between studying Hindustani and taking part in the quarrels
of the crew. This was the year of the murder of Sir William Macnaughten
by the Afghans and the disastrous retreat of the British from Cabul;
consequently the first request of the voyagers on reaching Bombay (28th
October 1842) was for news about Afghanistan. They learnt that the
prestige of the British arms had been restored by Pollack, and that the
campaign was ended.

To Burton, who had counted on being sent to the front, this was a
burning disappointment. He found Bombay marvellously picturesque, with
its crowds of people from all parts of the world, but before many days
had passed he fell ill and had to be transferred to the Sanitarium,
where he made the acquaintance of an old Parsee priest who assisted
him in his Hindustani. Even in these early days we find him collecting
material of the kind that was to be utilised in his Arabian Nights. He
was struck, for example, with the fine hedges of henna whose powerful
and distinctive odour loaded the atmosphere; and with the immense
numbers of ravenous kites and grey-headed crows that swooped