eleven o'clock
That is a natural gasometer within the reach of all purses . I should have liked to visit the famous sanctuary of Atesh Gah ; but it is twenty-two versts from the town , and time failed me . There burns the eternal fire , kept up for centuries by the Parsee priests from India , who never touch animal food . This reminds me that I have not yet breakfasted , and as eleven o'clock strikes , I make my way to the restaurant at the railway , where I have no intention of conforming myself to the alimentary code of the Parsees of Atesh Gah . As I am entering , Ephrinell rushes out . `` Breakfast ? '' say I. `` I have had it , '' he replies .