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MUMMTES AND MOSLEMS

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CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER

A™,oa 0, "Mr s™^ „ . o..„..v "B.ck.Lo. Sx™„,'. „c.

7>^

TORONTO, ONT :

BELFORD BROTHERS,

MDCCCLXXVI.

,..

Commander of the Faithful, Egypt is a compound of Hack earth
%nd green plants, between a pidverized mountain and a red sand Along
the valley descends a river, on which the blessing of the Most High reposes
both in the evening and the morning, and which rises and falls with the
revolutions of the sun and moon. According to the vicissitudes of the sea-
tons, the face of the couniry is adorned with a silver wave, a verdant
emerald, and the deep yellow 0/ a golden harvest.

From Ararou, Conqueror of Egypt, to the Khalif Omar.

PREFACE.

♦

^ y^IIERE is ill the Accademia at Venice a picture, ^painted by
_^W Paris Bordonc representing what was considered at the time a
miracle. A poor fisherman of the Lido, hauling his net one
morning, took a fish that had in his stomach the gold ring with which
the Doge had wed the Adriatic a few months before. The honest fellow
carried the ring, thus miraculously rescued from the maw of the sea, to
the Doge, and the council considered the event so remarkable and of
such propitious augury that they ordered it to be commemorated n\
canvas. The picture represents the Doge upon his chair of state,
surrounded by that gorgeous company of fine gentlemen with whom Paul
Veronese has made ua familiar, and the poor fisherman is ascending the
steps of the throne and presenting the ring.

I have no doubt the event happened. For the like had occurred before.
It is related that Polycrates of Samos had so much good fortune tliat his
friend Amasis, king of Egypt, sent him a message and warned him that
such prosperity was perilous : "I would rather choose," he said, "that
both I and those for whom I am solicitous, should be partly successful
in our undertakings and partly suffer reverses," and, accordingly, to
avert divine jealousy, he advised him to cast away that which he valued
most. Polycrates took his advice. The most precious thing he possessed
was a seal, made of ar. emerald, set in gold, the cunning workmanship
of a Samian named Theodorus. Having manned his fifty-oared galley,
he put out a considerable distance from the island, and taking off his
seal, threw it into the sea. Six days thereafter a fisherman having
caught a very large and beautiful fish, presented it to Polycrates ; and
his servants upon opening the fish found the ring. When he learned of
this piece of good fortune, Amasis withdrew his friendship from
Polycrates, satisfied that a man so prosperous could not come to a good
end.

VI.

PREFACE.

Wo shall look in vain for any new thing. The traveller in the Orient
I suppose, always hopes to find the precious ring or the seal, a long time
lost : if he should chance upon it, its story would have been already
narrated.

Can one expect then to say anything new about Egypt ? IIow many
volumes, (luring two thousand years, have had this mysterious land for
their theme I The Amasis of whom I have spoken sent a corselet to
Cncsus, made of linen, with many figures of animals inwrought, and
adorned with gold and cotton* wool ; eacii thread of this corselet was
worthy of admiration, for though it was fine, it contained three hundred
and sixty threads, all distinct. A piece of linen found at Memphis liad
in each inch of warp five imndred and forty threads, or two hundred
and seventy double threa<is. I suppose that if the lines written about
Egypt were laid over the country, every part of it would be covered by
as many as three hundred and sixty-five lines to the inch.

New facts about Egypt need not] bo expected. A resur^i of all that
lias been written, in one volume, is equally out of the question. Those
who find here too many details of the ancient land, must remember how
many they have been spared ; those who find too few, will perhaps
thank me for sending them to the library.

No ore can be niore sensible than I am of the shortcomings of this

volume. One thing, however, I have earnestly endeavoured to do : —

to preserve the Oriental atmosphere. What we see in Egypt is the

result of social, moral, and religious conditions, totally foreign to our

experience, and not to bo estimated by it. I tried to look at Egypt in

its own atmosphere and not through ours, hoping thereby to be able to

represent it, not photographically, but in something like its true colors

and proper perspective. If I have succeeded in the .^lightest degree, I

shall, be satisfied.

C. D. W.

Venice, October, 1875.

' CONTENTS

CHAPTER I.

AT THE GATES OP THE EAST.

The Mediterranean-The East unlike the West-A World risked
for a Woman— An unchanging World and a Fickle Sea— Still
an Orient— Old Fashions— A Journey without Ileafions— Off
for the Orient-Leaving^ Naples— A Shakv Court-A deserted
District-Ruins of PtePtu' • -Temple of Neptune-Entrance to
Purgatory-Safety Valves of the World-i!:nterprising Natives
-Sunset on the Sea-Sicily-Crete-Our Paasengers-The
Hottest Place on Record— An American Tourist~An Evan-
gelical Dentist-On a Secret Mission-The Vanquished Dig-
nitary

CHAPTER II.

WITHIN THE PORTALS.

Africa- -Alexandria— Strange Contrasts— A New World- - Nature
-First View of the Orient-Hotel Europe-Mixed Nation-
alities-The First Backsheesh-Street Scenes in Alexandria.-
Fanuhar Pictures Idealized— Cemetery Day— A Novel Turn
Out— A Moslem Cemetery— New Terrors for Death— Pompey'a
Pillar-Our First Camel-Along the Canal-Departed Glory-
A set of Fine FeUows-Our Handsome Dragoraen-Bazaars-
Umversal Good Humor-A Continuous Holiday-Private life
m Egypt-Invisible Blackness- The Land of Color and the Sun
— A Casino

PAQE.

Vlll.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER III.

EGYPT OF TO-DAY. paob.

Railways — Our Valiant Dragoman — A Hand-to-Hand Struggle —
Alexandria to Cairo — Artificiol Irrigation — An Arab Village —
The Nile — Egyptian Festivals — Pyranuds of Geezeh— Cairo —
Natural Queries 41

CHAPTER IV.

CAIRO.

A Rhapsody — At Shepherd's— Hotel life, Egyptian plan —English
Noblemen — Life in the Streets — The Valuable Donkey and his
Driver— The " Swell Thing " in Cairo— A hint for Central Park
— Euuuchs — " Yankee Doodles" of Cairo— A Representative
Arab — Selecting Dragomen — The Great Business of Egypt — An
Egyptian Market Place — A Substitute fcr Clothes — Dahabeehs
of the Nile — A Protracted Negotiation — Egyptian Wiles 45

CHAPTER V.

IN THE BAZAAR.

Sight Seeing in Cairo — An Eastern Bazaar — Courteous Merchants—
The Honored Beggar — Charity to be Rewarded — A Moslem
Funeral — The Gold Bazaar — Shopping for a Necklace — Conduct-
ing a Bride Home — A Partnersliip Matter — Early Marriages and
Decay — Longings for Youth 67

CHAPTER VI.

MOSQUES AND TOMBS.
The Sirocco — The Desert — The Citadel of Cairo- Scene of the Mas-
sacre of the Memlooks — The World's Verdict — The Mosque of
Mohammed Ali — Tomb of the Memlook Sultans — Life out of
Death 67

CHAPTER VII.

MOSLEM WORSHIP — THE CALL TO PRAYER.

An Enjoyable City — Definition of Conscience —" Prayer is better
than Sleep" — Call cf the Muezzin — Moslems at Prayer — In-
terior of a Mosque— Oriental Architecture— Tho Slipper FitLeri
— Devotional Washing — An Imam's Supplicalions 72

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE PYRAMIDS.

PAOR.

Ancient Sepulchres — Grave Robbers — The Poor Old Mummy — The
Oldest Monument in the World — First View of the Pyramids
—The resident Bedaween— Ascending the Steps — Parent Ele-
vators — A View from the Top — The Guide's Opinions— Origin
of " Murray's Guide Book " — Speculations oa the Pyramids —
The Interior— Absolute Night — A Taste of Death— The Sphinx
— Domestic Life in a Tomb — Souvenirs of Ancient Egypt —
Backsheesh 79

CHAPTER IX.

PRKPARATIONS FOR A VOYAGE.

A Weighty Question — The Seasons Bewi^^'^hed — Poetic Dreams
Realized — Egyptian Music — Public Garden — A Wonderful Rock
— Its Patrons — The Playing Band — Native Love Songs — The
Howling . ei'weeshes — An Exciting Performance — The Shakers
put to Shame — Descendants of the Prophet — An Ancient Sara-
cenic Home — The Land of the Flea and the Copt — Historical
Curiosities — Preparing for our Journey — Laying in of Medicines
and Rockets — A Determination to be Liberal — Official Life in
Egypt — An Interview with the Bey — Paying for our Rockets —
A Walking Treasury — Waiting for Wind ... 93

CHAPTER X.

ON THE NILE.

On Board the '* Rip Vcn "Winkle" — A Farewell Dinner — The Three
Months' Voyage Commenced— On the Nile — Our Pennant's
Pevice — Our Dahabeeh — Its Officers and Crew — Types of Egyp-
tian Races— The Kingdom of the " Stick"— The false Pyramid
of Maydoon — A Night on the River — Curious Crafts — Boat
Races on the Nile — x^ative Villa^bS— Songs of the Sailors —
Incidents of the Day — The Copts — The Patriarch — The Monks
of Gebel 6 Tayr — Disappointment all Round — A iioyal Luxury
— The Banks of the Nile — Gum Arabic — Unfair Reports of Us
— Speed of our Dahabeeh — Egyptian Bread — Hasheesh-Smok-
"ig — Egyptian Robbera— Sitting in Darknes" — Agriculture —
Gathering of Taxeg — Succeasful Voyaging 108

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XL

PEOPLE ON THE RIVER BANKS.

PAOI.

Sunday on the Nile — A Calm — A Land of Tombs — A New Divinity
— Burial of a Child — A Sunday Companion on Shore — A Philo-
sophical People— No Sunday Clothes — The Aristocratic Beda-
ween — The Sheykh — Rare Specimens for the Centennial —
Tracts Needed — Woman's Rights — Pigeons and Cranes— Balmy
Winter Nights— Tracking — Copying Nature in Dress — Resort
of Crocodiles— A Hermit's Cave— Waiting for Nothing — Croco-
dile Mummies — The Boatmen's Song — Furling Sails — Life
Again — Pictures on the Nile 131

CHAPTER XIL

SPENDING CHRISTMAS ON THE NILE,

Independence in Spelling — Asioot — Christmas Day — The American
Consul — A Visit to the Pasha — Conversing by an Interpreter —
The Ghawazees at Home — Ancient Sculpture — Bird's Eye View
of the Nile — Our Christmas Dinner— Our Visitor — Grand Re-
ception — The Fire Works — Christmas Eve on the Nile 145

CHAPTER XIIL

SIGHTS AND SCENES ON THE RIVERo

Ancient and Modern Ruins — We Pay Toll — Cold Weather — Night
Sailing— Farshoot — A Visit from the Bey — The Market-Place
— The Sakiyas or Water Wheels — The Nile is Egypt 155

CHAPTER XIY.

MIDWINTER IN EGYPT.

Midwinter in Egypt — Sla s of Time — Where the Water Jars are
Made — Coming to A) tior and how it was Done — New Years —
*' Smits" Copper Popularity — Great Strength of the Women-
Conscripts for the Army — Conscription a Good Thing — On the
Threshold of Thebes 162

CONTENTS.

XI.

OK.

CHAPTER XV.

AMONG THE RUINS OF THEBES.

PAaB.

Situation of the City-Ruins-Questions-Luxor-Karnak-Glori.
fi'^ation of the Pharaohs— Sculptures in Stone— The Twin Colossi
—Four Hundred Miles in Sixteen Days 172

CHAPTER XVI.

HISTORY IN STONE.

A Dry City— A Strange Circumstance— A Pleasant Residence— Life
on the Dahabeiih-Illustrious Visitors-Nose-Rings and Beauty
—Little Fatimeh— A Mummy Hand and Thoughts upon i1>-
Plunder of the Tombs-Exploits of the Great Sesostris-Gigantic
Statues and their Object-Skill of Ancient Artists-Criticisms
^ —Christian Churches and Pagan Temples— Soci«^ty-A Peep
"ito an Ancient Harem— Statue of Memnon— Mysteries-
Pictures of Heroic Girls— Women in History 178

CHAPTER XVIT.

KARNAK.

An Egyptian Carriage-Wonderful Ruins-The Great Hall of Sethi
-The Largest Obelisk in The World-A City of Temples and
^^^"^^^ 196

CHAPTER XVIII.

ASCENDING THE RIVER.

Ascending the River-An Exciting Boat Race-Inside a Sugar
Factory-Setting Fire to a Town-Who Stole the Rockets ?-
Striking Contrasts-A Jail-The Kodior Judge-What ^e saw
at Assouan-A Gale-Ruins of Kom Ombos-Mysterious Move-
ment— Laud of Eternal Leisure 201

CHAPTER XIX.

PASSING THE CATARACT OF THE NILE.
Passing the Cataract of the Nile-Nubian Hills in Sight-Island of
Elephantine-Ownership of the Cataract -Difficulties of the

Xll.

CONTENTS.

PAQE.

Ascent — Negotiations for a Passage — Items about Assouan —
Off for the Cataracts — Our Cataract Crew — First Impressions
of the Cataract — In the Stream — Excitement — Audacious
Swimmers — Close Steering — A Comical Orchestra — The Final
Struggle — Victory— Above the Rapids— The Temple of Isis—
Ancient Kings and Modern Conquerors 216

CHAPTER XX.

ON THE BORDERS OF THE DESERT.

Ethiopia — Relatives of the Ethiopians — Negro Land — Ancestry of
the Negro— Conversion Made Easy — A Land of Negative Bless-
ings — Cool air from the Desert — Abd-el-Atti's Opinions — A
Land of Comfort — Nubian Costumes — Turning the Tables —
The Great Desert— Sin, Grease and Taxes 235

CHAPTER XXI.

ETHIOPIA.

Primitive Attire— The Snake Charmer— A House full of Snakes—
A Writ of Ejectment— Natives— The Tomb of Mohammed-
Disasters — A Dandy Pilot — Nubian Beauty— Opening a Baby's
Eyes— A Nubian Pigville 244

CHAPTER XXII.

LIFE IN THE TROPICS — WADY HALFA.

Life in the Tropics— Wady Haifa— Capital of Nubia— The Centre
of Fashion- -The Southern Cross— Castor Oil Plantations — Jus-
tice to a Thief— Abd-el-Atti's Court— Mourning for the Dead
— Extreme of our Journey — A Comical Celebration — The March
of Civilization 258

CHAPTER XXIII.

APPROACHING THE SECOND CATARACT.

Two Ways to See It— Pleasures of Canal Riding— Bird's Eye View
of the Cataracts— Signs of Wealth — Wady Haifa — A Nubian
Belle — Classic Beauty — A Greek Bride — Interviewing a Croco-
dile—Joking with a Widow — A Model Village 267

CONTENTS.

Xlll.

CHAPTER XXIV.

GIANTS IN STONE.

PAOE.

;

The Colossi of Aboo Simble, the largest in the World — Bombast
— Exploits of Rameses II. — A Mysterious Temple — Feting
Ancient Deities — Guardians of the Nile- -The Excavated Rock
— The Te mple — A Row of Sacred Monkeys — Our Last View of
The Giants 275

CHAPTER XXV.

FLITTING THROUGH NUBIA.

Learning the Language — Models of Beauty — Cutting up a Croco-
dile — Egyptian Loafers — A Modem David — A Present — Our
Menagerie — The Chameleon — Woman's Rights — False Prophets
— Incidents — The School Master at Home — Confusion — Too
Much Conversion — Charity — Wonderful Birds at Mecca 283

CHAPTER XXVI.

MYSTERIOUS PHIL^.

Leave ** well enough " Alone — The Myth of Osiris — The Heights of
Biggeh — Cleopatra's Favorite Spot — A Legend — Mr. Fiddle —
Dreamland — Waiting for a Prince — An Inland Excursion— Quar-
ries — Adieu 298

CHAPTER XXVII.

RETURNING.

Downward Run — Kidnapping a Sheykh — Blessed with Relatives —
Making the Chute — Artless Children — A Model of Ir.c€,3rity —
Justice — An Accident— Leaving Nubia — A Perfect Shame .... 309

CHAPTER XXVIII.

MODERN FACTS AND ANCIENT MEMORIES.

The Mysterious Pebble — Ancient Quarries — Prodigies of Labor —
Humor in Stone — A Simoon — Famous Grottoes — Naughty At-
tractions—Bogus Relics — Antiquity Smith 320

XIV.

CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXIX.

THE FUTURE OF THE MUMMy'S SOUL.

PAGE.

Ancient Egyptian Literature— Mumuiies — A ViBit to the Toraba—
Disturbing the Dead — The Fuaeral Ritual — Unpleasant Ex-
plorations — A Mummy in Pledge — A Desolate Way — Buried
Secrets— Building for Eternity — Before the Judgment Seat —
Weighed in the Balance — The Habitation of the Dead — Illumi-
nated — Accommodations for the Mummy — The Pharaoh of the
Exodus— A Baby Charon— Bats 334

CHAPTER XXX.

FAREWELL TO THEBES.

Social Festivities — An Oriental Dinner — Dancing Girls — Honored
by the Sultan — The Native Consul — Finger Feeding — A Dance
— Ancient Style of Dancing — The Poetry of Night — Kamak by
Moonlight— Amusements at Luxor — Farewell to Thebes 350

CHAPTER XXXI.

LOITERING BY THE WAY.

" Very Grammatick" — The Lying-in-Temple — A Holy Man — Scare-
crows — Asinine Performers — Antiquity — Old Masters — Profit
and Loss — Hopeless ** Fellahs" — Lion's Oil — A Bad Reputation
—An Egyptian Mozart 361

CHAPTER XXXII.

JOTTINGS.

Mission School — Education of Women — Contrasts — A Mirage —
Tracks of Successive Ages — Bathers — Tombs of the Sacred
Bulls — Religion and Grammar — Route to Darfour — Winter
Residence of the Holy Family — Grottoes — Mistaken Views —
Dust and Ashes — Osmaa Bey — A Midsummer's Night Dream —
Ruins of Memphis — Departed Glory — A Second Visit to the
Pyramids of Geezeh — An Artificial Mother 379

■i

CONTENTS,
CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE KHEDIVE.

XV.

rAOE,

At Gezereh — Aboo Yusef tho Owncx' — Cairo Again —A Queatiou-
The Khedive — Solomon and the Viceroy — The Khedive's Fami-
ly Expenses — Another Joseph — Personal Government — Docks
of Cairo— Raising Mud— Popular Superstitions— Leave-Taking 398

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE WOODEN MAN.

Visiting a Harem — A Re jeption— The Khedive at Home— Ladies
of the Harem — Wife of Tiifik Pasha— The Mummy — Tho
Wooden Man — Discoveries of Mariette Bey — Egypt and Greece
Compared— Learned Opinions 411

CHAPTER XXXV.

ON THE WAY HOME.

Leaving our Dahabeeh — The Baths in Cairo — Curious Mode of Exe-
cution — The Guzeereh Palace— Empress Eugenie's Sleeping
Room — Medallion of Benjamin Franklin in Egypt — Heliopolis
— ^The Bedaween Bride — Holy Places — The Resting Place of
the Virgin Mary — Fashionable Drives — The Shoobra Palace —
Forbidden Books- -A Glimpse of a Bevy of Ladies — Uncom-
fortable Guardians 421

CHAPTER XXXVI.

BY THE RED SEA.

Following the Track of the Children of Israel — Routes to Suez —
Temples — Where was the Red Sea Crossed ? — In sight of the
Bitter Lakes — Approaching the Red Sea — Faith — The Suez
Canal — The Wells of Moses — A Sentimental Pilgrimage — Price
of one of the Wells — Miriam of Marah — Water of the Wells —
Returning to Suez — A Caravan of Bedaweens — Lunch Baskets
searched by Custom Officers — The Commerce of the East 429

** .-.

XVI.

CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXXVII.

WESTWARD HO.

rxM.

Leaving Suez— Ismailia— The Lotiis— A Miracle— Egyptian Steamer'
—Information Sought— The Great Highway —Port Said— Abd-
el-Atti again— Great Honors Lost— Farewell to Egypt 440

tiVi -— ,±

m lihvvw a >■'

CHAPTEH I.

AT THE GATES OF THE EAST.

^HE Mediterranean still divides the East from the "West.
Ages of traffic and intercourse across its waters have
not changed this fact ; neither the going of armies nor
of embassies, Northmen forays nor Saracenic maraudings, Chris-
tian crusades nor Turkish invasions, neither the borrow-
ing from Egypt of its philosophy and science, nor the stealing
of its precious monuments of antiquity, down to its bones, not
all the love-making, slave-trading, war-waging, not all the con\-
merce of four thousand years, by oar and sail and steam, have
sufficed to make the East like the West.

Half the world was lost at Actium, they like to say, for the
sake of a woman ; but it was the half that, 1 am convinced, we
never shall gain — for though the Romans did win it, they did
not keep it long, and they made no impression on it that is not,
compared with its own individuality, as stucco to granite.
And I suppose there is not now and never will b3 another
woman in the East handsome enough to risk a world for.

There, across the most fascinating and fickle sea in the world
— a feminine sea, inconstant as lovely, all sunshine and tears
in a moment, reflecting in its quick mirror in rapid succession
the skies of grey and blue, the weather of Europe and of Africa,
a sea of romance and nausetv — lies a world in everything unlike
our own, a world perfectly known, yet never familiar and never
otherwise than strange to the European and American. I had
supposed it otherwise ; I had been led to think that modem
civilization had more or less transformed the East to its own
likeness ; that, for instance, the railway up the Nile had prac-
tically done for that historic stream. They say that if you

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

run a red-hot imil through an omn^o, tlit; fruit will keep its
freshness and remain unchanged a long time. The tln-usting of
the iron into Egypt may arrest decay, but it does not appear to
change the country.

There in still an Orient, and 1 believe there would be if it
were all canaled, and railwayed, and converted ; for I have
great faith in habits that have withstood the influence of six
or seven thousand years of changing dynasties and religions.
"Would you like to go a little way with me into this Orient 1

The old-fashioned travellers liad a formal fashion of setting
before the reader the reasons that induced them to take the
journey they described ; and they not unfrequently made poor
health an apology for their wanderings, judging that that ex-
cuse would be most readily accepted for their eccentric conduct.
" Worn out in body and mind we set sail," etc. ; and the reader
was invited to launch in a 8oi*t of funereal bark upon the Medi-
terranean and accompany an invalid in search of his last rest-
ing place.

There was in fact no reason why we should go to Egy|jt — a
remark that the reader will notice is made before he has a
chance to make it — and there is no reason why any one indis-
posed to do so should accompany us. Jf information is desired,
there are whole libraries of excellent books about the land of
the Pharaohs, ancient and modern, historical, archaeological,
statistical, theoretical, geographical ; if amusement is wanted,
there are also excellent book-a, facetious and sentimental. I
suppose that volumes enough have been written about Egypt
to cover every foot of its arable soil if they were spread out,
or to dam the Nile if they were dumped into it, and to cause
a drought in either case if they were not all interesting and
the reverse of dry. There is therefore no ontts upon the travel-
ler in the East to-day to write otherwise than suits his humour ;
he may describe only what he chooses. With this distinct un-
derstanding I should like the reader to go with me through a
winter in the Orient. Let us say that we go to escape winter.

It is the last of November, 1874 — the beginning of what
proved to be the bitterest winter ever known iii America and
Europe, and I doubt not it was the first nip of the return of
the rotary glacial period — that we go on board a little Italian
steamer in the harbour of Naples, reaching it in a row-boat and

AT THE GATES OF THE EAST.

in a cold rain. The deck is wot and diHinal ; VoHiiviuH is in-
vinible, and the whole sweep of the bay in hid by a slanting
mist. Italy has been in a shiver for a month ; snow on th(!
Alban hills and in tlie Tusculan theatre ; Home wjis as chilly
as a stone tomb with tlie door left open. Naples is little hotter;
Boston, at any season, is better than Naples — now.

Wo steam slowly down the harbour amid dripping ships, los-
ing all sight of villages and the lovely coast ; only C.apri comes
out comely in the haze, an island cut like an antique cameo.
Long after dark we see the light on it and also that of the
Punta della Oampanella opposite, friendly beams following us
down the coast. We are off Pajstum, and I can feel that its
noble temple is looming there in the darkness. This ruin is in
some sort a door into, an introduction to, the Ejist.

Psestum has been a deadly marsh for eighteen hundrcid years,
and desei^ted for almost a thousand. Nettles and unsightly
brambles have taken the place of the " roses of Pa^stum " of
which the Roman ])oets sang; but still, as a poetic memory, the
cyclamen trails among the df'fyt'is of the old city ; and the, other
day I found violets waiting for a propitious season to bloom.
The sea has retired away from the site of the town and broad-
ened the marsh in front of it. There are at Pa^stuni thret;
Greek temples, called, no one can tell why, the T6ni})le of Nep-
tune, the Basilica, and the Temple of Ceres ; remains of the
old town walls and some towei*s ; a tumble-down house or two,
and a wretched tavern. The whole coast is subject to tremors
of the eaiiih, and the few inhabitants hanging about there ap-
pear to have had all their bones shaken out of them by the
fever and ague.

We went down one raw November morning from Naples,
driving from a station on the Calabrian railway, called F3atti-
poglia, about twelve miles over a black marshy plain, relieved
only by the bold mountains, on the right and left. Tliis })lain
is gradually getting reclaimed and cultivated ; there is raised
on it inferior cotton and some of the vile tobacco which the
Government monopoly compels the free Italians to smoke, and
large olive-orchards have been recently set out. The soil is
rich and the country can probably be made habitable again.
Now, the few houses are wretclied and the few people sqnalid.
Women were pounding stone on the road we travelled, even

MUMMIKS AND MOSI-liMS.

young gii'iu uuioii>{ tliuiii wioldiug tlio iioavy liuiiiiiKnN, utnl all
of thorn very thinly clad, thoir one nleazy Hkirt giving little
protoirtion against tlio koen air. Of couiho tho women were
hard-fe.itunMl and coar.se-hantled ; and both tiusy and tlie men
have tho swarthy complexion that may l)etokon a more Eastern
origin. Wo fancied that tlnjy had a brigandish look. Until
recently this plain has been a favourite iield for brigands, who
spied the rich traveller from the height of St. Angolo and
pounced upon him if he was unguarded. Now, soldicus are
tpuirtered along the road, patrol the country on horseback, and
lounge about tho ruins at Ptcstum. Perhaps they retire to
some height for tho night, for the district is too unhealthy for
an Italijm even, whose health may bo of no consoipienco. They
say that if oven an Englishman, who goes merely to shoot
woodcock, sleeps there one night, in tho right season, that night
will be his last.

Wo saw the ruins of Paistum under a cold grey sky, which
harmonized with their isolation. We saw them best from tho
side of the sea, with the snow-sprinkled mountains risint, be-
hind for a background. There they stood out, imjjressivo, ma-
jestic, time-defying. In all Europe there are no ruins better
worthy the study of tho admirer of noble architecture than
these.

The Temple of Neptune is older than tho Parthenon, its
Doric sister, at Athens. It wius probably built before tho Per-
sians of Xerxes occupied the Acropolis and saw from there the
flight of their ruined fleet out of the Strait of Salamis. It was
built when the Doric had attained tho acme of its severe ma-
jesty, and it is to-day almost perfect on the exterior. Its
material is a coarse travertine wliich time and the weather
have honeycombed, showing the jjetritications of plants and
ahells ; but of its thirty-six massive exterior columns not one
has fallen, though those on the north side aie so worn by age
that the once deep fluting is nearly obliterated. You may care
to know that these columns, whi^h are thirty feet high and
seven and a half feet in diameter at the base, taper symmetri-
cally to the capitals, which are the severest Doric.

At first we thought the temple small, and did not even
realize its two hundred feet of length, but the longer we looked
at it the larger it grew to the eye, untU it seemed to expand

AT THE GATES OF THE EAST.

into jpij^ntic hizo ; ap«l from whatever point it was viewed, it«
ImrmoniouH |no|K)itionH were an iiiereaHin^' delight. The l)eauty
Ih not in any oniamimt, for even t]u) pediment iH and always
was vacant, but in its admirable lines.

The two other temples are fine H|>eciinen8 of Greek architec-
ture, also Doric, pure and without fault, with only a little ten-
dency to de[mrt from severe simplicity in the curve of the
capitals, and yet they did not interest us. Tliey are of a perio<l
only a little later than the Temj)le of Nept ine, and that model
w;is before their builders, yet they missed the extraordinary,
many say almost spiritual, beauty of that edifice. We sought
the reason, and found it in the fact that there are absolutely
no straight lines in the Temple of Neptune. The side rows of
columns curve a little out ; the end rows curve a little in ; at
the ends the base line of the columns curves a trifie from the
sides to the centre, and the line of tlu^ architrave docs the same.
This may bewilder the eye and mislead the judgment as to
size and distfince, but the efiect is more agreeable than almost
any other I know in architecture. It is not rei)eated in the
other temples, the buildei-s of which do not seem to have known
its secret. Had the Greek colony lost the art of this i)erfect
harmony, in the little time that probably intei'vened between
the erection of these edifices ] It was still kept at Athens, as
the Temple of Theseirs and the Parthenon testify.

Jjooking from the interior of the temple out at either end,
the entrance seems to be wider at the top than at the bottom,
an Egyptian effect produced by the setting of the inward and
outer columns. This ap})eared to us like a door through which
we looked into Egypt, that mother of all arts and of most of
the devices of this now confused world. We were on our way
to see the first columns, prototypes of the Doric order, chiselled
by man.

The custodian — there is one, now that twenty centuries of
war and rapine and storms have wreaked themselves upon this
temple — would not permit us to take our luncheon into its
guarded precincts ; on a fragment of the old steps, amid the
winds, we drank our red Capii wine ; not the usual compound
manufactured at Naples, but the last bottle of pure Capri to l)e
found on the island, so help the soul of the landlady at the
hotel there ; ate one of those imperfectly nourished Italian

mm.

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

chickens, orphan birds, owning the pitiful legs with which the
table d'hote frequenters in Italy are so familiar, and blessed the
Government for the care, tardy as it is, of its grandest monu-
ment jf antiquity.

When I looked out of the port-hole of the steamer early in
the morning, we were near the volcanic Lipari islands and islets,
a group of seventeen altogether ; which serve as chimneys and
safety valves to this part of the world. On« of the small ones
is of recent creation, at least it was heaved up about two thou-
sand years ago, and I fancy that a new one may pop up here
any time. From the time of the Trojan war all sorts of races
and adventurers ha ve fought for the possession of these coveted
islands, and the impartial earthquake has shaken them all off
in turn. But for the mist, we should have clearly seen Strom-
boli, the ever active volcano, but now we can only say we saw
it. We are near it, however, and catch its outline, and listen
for the groan of lost souls which the credulous crusaders used
to hear issuing from its depths. It was at that time the en-
trance of purg:.;iry ; we read in the guide books that the cru-
saders implored the monks of Cluny to intercede for the
deliverance of those confined there, and that therefoie Odilo
of Cluny instituted the observance of All Souls' Day.

The climate of Europe still attends us, and our first view of
Sicily is through the rain. Clouds hide the coast and obscure
the base of ^tna (which is oddly celebrated in Amorica as an
assurance against loss by fire); but its wide fields of snow,
banked up high above the clouds, gleam as molten silver —
treasure laid up in heaven — and give us the light of the rosy
morning.

Rounding the point of Faro, the locale of Charybdis and
Scylla, we come into the harbor of Messina and take shelter
behind the long, curved horn of its mole. Whoever shunned the
beautiful Scylla was liaule to be sucked into the strong tide
Charybdis; but the rock has lost its terror for moderns, and
the current is no longer dangerous. We get our last dash of
rain in this strait, and ther,) is sunny weather and blue sky at
the soiuh. The situation of Messina is picturesque; the shores
both of Calabria and Sicily are mountainous, precipitous, and
very rocky ; there seems to be no place for vegetation except by
terracing. The town is backed by lofty circling mountains, which

V"%

AT tHE GATES OF THE EAST.

form a dark setting for its white houses and the string of out-
lying villages. Mediaeval forts cling to the slopes above it.

No sooner is the anchor down than a fleet of boats surrounds
the steamer, and a crowd of noisy men and boys swarms on
board, to sell us mussles, oranges, and all sorts of merchandise,
from a hair-brush to an under-wrapper. The Sunday is hope-
lessly broken into fragments in a minute. These lively traders
use the English language and its pronouns with great freedom.
The boot-black smilingly asks : " You black my boot?"

The vendor of under-garments says : "I gif you four franc
for dis one. I gif you for dese two a seven franc. No '? What
you gif]"

A bright orange-boy, we ask, ** How much a dozen 1"

" Half franc."

" Too much."

" How much you give ? Tast him ; he ver good ; a sweet
orange ; you no like, you no buy. Yes, sir. Tak one. This a
one, he sweet no more."

And they were sweet no more. They must have been lemons
in oranges' clothing. The flattering tongue of that boy and our
greed of tropical coloi- made us owners of a lot of thom, most of
which went overboard before we reached Alexandria, and would
make fair lemonade of the streak of water we passed through.

At noon we sail away into the warm south. We ha\ e before
us the beautiful range of Aspromonte, and the village of Reggio
near which in 1862 Garibaldi received one of his wounds, a
sort of inconvenient love-pat of fame. The coast is rugged and
steep. High up is an isolated Gothic rock, pinnacled and jag-
ged. Close by the shore \ve can trace the railway track which
winds round the point of Italy, and some of the passengers look
at it longingly ; for though there is clear sky overhead, the sea
has on an ungenerous swell ; and what is blue sky to a stomach
that knows its own bitterness, and feels the world sinking away
from under it 1

We are long in sight of Italy, but Sicily still sulks in the
clouds, and Mount ^tna will not show itself. The night is
bright and the weather has become milder ; it is the prelude to
a day calm and uninteresting. Nature rallies at night, how-
ever, and gives us a sunset in a pale gold sky with cloud-islands
on the horizon and palni-grove.° on them. The stars come out

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

in extraordinary profusion and a soft brilliancy unknown in
New F^ngland, and the sky is of a tender blue — something
delicate and not to be enlarged ui)on. A sunset is something
that no one will accept second-hand.

On the morning of December Ist we av^. off Crete : Greece
we have left to the north, and are going at ten knots an hour
towards great hulking Africa. We sail close to the island and
see its long, high barren coast till late in the afternoon. There
is no road visible on this side, nor any sign of human habita-
tion, except a couple of shanties perched high up among the
rocks. From this point of view, Crete is p mass of naked rock
lifted out of the waves. Mount Ida crowns it, snow-capped and
gigantic. Just below Crete spring up in our geography the
little islands of Gozo and Antigozo, merely vast rocks, with
scant patches of low vegetation on the cliffs, g, sort of vegetable
blush, a few stunted trees on the top of the first, and an appear-
ance of grass which has a reddish color.

The weather is more and more delightful, a balmy atmos-
phere brooding on a smooth sen. The chill which we canied
in our bones from New York to Naples finally melts away.
Life ceases to be a mere struggle, and becomes a mild enjoy-
ment. The blue tint of the sky is beyond all previous compari-
son, delicate, like the shade of a silk, fading at the horizon into
an exquisite grey or nearly white. We are on deck all day and
till late at night, for once enjoying, by the help of an awning,
real winter weather with the thermometer at seventy-tvo
degrees.

Our passengers are not many, but selected. There are a Ger-
man baron and his sparkling wife, delightful people, who handle
the English language as delicately as if it were glass, and make
of it the most 7idive and interesting form of speech. They are
going to Cairo for the winter, and the young baroness has the
longing and curiosity regarding the land of the sun, which is
peculiar to the poetical Germans ; she haij never seen a black
man nor a palm-tree. In charge of the captain, there is an
Italian woman, whose husband lives in Alexandria, who mo-
nopolizes the whole of the ladies* cabin, by a league with the
slatternly stewardess, and behaves in a manner to make a atate
of war and wrath between her and the rest of the ps^sengers.
There is nothing bitterer than the hatred of people for each

AT THE GATES OF THE EAST,

other on shipboard. When I afterwards saw tbi? woman in
the streets of Alexandria, I bad scarcely any wish to shorten
her stay upon this earth. There are also two tough-fibered and
strong-minded dissenting ministers from Australia, who have
come round by the Sandwich Islands and the United States,
and are booked for Palestine, the Suez Canal, and the Red Sea.
Speaking of Aden, which has the reputation of being as hot as
Constantinople is wicked, one of them tells the story of an
American (the English have a habit of fastening all their dubi-
ous anecdotes upon " an American") who said that if he owned

two places, one in Aden and the other in H , he would sell

the one in Aden. These ministers are distinj^.iished lecturers
at home — a sobmn thought, that even the most distant land is
subjected to the blessing of the popular lecture.

Our own country is well representexl, as it usually is abroad,
whether by appointment or self-selection. It is said that the
oddest people in the world go up the Nile and make the pil-
grimage of Palestine. I have even hoard that one must be a
little cracked who will give a whole winter to high Egypt ; but
this is doubtless said by those who cannot afford to go. Not-
withstanding the peculiarities of so many of those one meets
drifting around the East (as eccentric as the English who fre-
quent Italian pensions) it must be admitted that a great many
estimable and apparently sane people go up the Nile — and that
such are even found among Cook's " personally conducted."

There is on board an American, or a sort of Irish- Amcncan,
more or less naturalized, from Nebraska, a. raw-boned, hard-
featured farmer, ab^ad for a two-years' tour ; a man who has
no guide-book or literature, except the Bible which he diHgent-
ly reads. He has spent twenty or thirty years in acquiring and
subduing land in the new country, and without any time or
taste for reading, there has come with his possessions a desire
to see that old world about which he cared nothing before he
breathed the vitalizing air of the West. That he knew abso-
lutely nothing of Europe, Asia, or Africa, except the little
patch called Palestine, and found a day in Rome too much for
a place so run dov/n, was actually none of our business. He
was a good patriotic American, and the only wonder was that
with his qualification he had not been made consul somewhere.

But a more interesting person, in his way, was a slender,

ll\

MUMMIES AND MOSLEr^S.

no-blooded, youngish, married man, of the ve«fetarian and vege-
table school, also alone, and bound for the Holy Land, who was
sick of the sea and otherwise. He also was without books of
travel, and knew nothing of what he was going to see or how
to see it. Of what Egypt was he had the dimmest notion, and
why we or he or anyone else should go there. What do you
go up the Nile for ? we asked. The roply was that the Spirit
had called him to go through Egypt to Palestine. He had been
a dentist, but now he called himself an evangelist. I made the
mistake of supposing that he was one of those persons who have
a call to go about and convince people that religion is one part
milk (skimmed) and three parts water — harmless, however,
unless you see too much of them. Twice is too much. But I
guaged him inadequately. He is one of those few who compre-
hend the future, and, guided wholly by the Spirit and not by
any scripture or tradition, his mission is to prepare the world
for its impending change. He is en rapport with the vast
uneasiness, which I do not know how to name, that pervades
all lands. He had felt our war in advance. He now feels a
great change in the air ; he is illuminated by an inner light
that makes him clairvoyant. America is riper than it knows
for this change. I tried to have him definitely define it, so
that I could write home to my friends and the newspapers and
the insurance companies ; but I could only get a vague notion
that there was about to be an end of armies and navies and
police, of all forms of religion, of government, of property, and
that universal brotherhood is to set in.

The evangelist had come abroad on an important and rather
secret mission ; to observe the progress of things in Europe ; and
to publish his, observations ' 1 a book. Spiritualized as he was,
he had no need of any language except the American; he felt
the political and religious atmosphere of all the cities he visited
without speaking to any one. When he entered a picture gal-
lery, although he knew nothing of pictures, he saw more than
any one else. I suppose he saw more than Mr. Ruskin sees.
He told me, among other valuable information, that he found
Europe not so well prepared for the great movement as Amer-
ica, but that I would be surprised at the number who were in
sympathy with it, especially those in high places in society and
in gov^ernment. The Roman Catholic Church was going to

AT THE GATES OF THE EAST.

pieces ; not that he cared any more tor this than for the Pi'os-
byterian — he, personally, took what was good Jn any church,
but he had got beyond them all ; he was now only working for
the establishment of the truth, and it was because he had more
of the truth than others that he could see further.

He expected that America would be purprised when he pub-
lished his observations. " I can give you a little idea," he said,
" of how things are working." This talk was late at night, and
by the dim cabin lamp. " When I was in Rome, I went to see
the head-man of the Pope. I talked with him over an hour,
and I found that he knew all about it !"

" Good gracious ! You don't say so !"

" Yes, z\x. And he is in full sympathy. But he dare not
say anything. He knows that his Ohurch is on its last legs. I
told him that I did not care to see the Pope, but if he wanted
to meet me, and discuss the infallibility question, I was ready
for him."

" What did the Pope's head-man say to that V

" He said that he would see the Pope, and see if he could
arrange an interview ; and would let me know. I waited a week
in Rome, but no notice came. I tell you the Pope don't dare
discuss it."

"Then he didn't see youf

" No, sir. But I wrote him a letter from Naples."

" Perhaps he won't answer it."

" Well, if he doesn't, that is a confession that he can't. He
leaves the field. That will satisfy me."

I said I thought he would be satisfied.

The Mediterranean enlarges on acquaintance. On the fourth
day we are still without sight of Africa, though the industrious
screw brings us nearer every moment. We talk of Carthage,
and think we can see the color of the Libyan sand in the yel-
low clouds at night. It is two o'clock on the morning of
December the third, when we make the Pharos of Alexandi'ia,
and wait for a pilot.

CHAPTER II.

WITHIN THE PORTALS.

|AGERNESS to see Africa brings us on deck at dawn.
The low coast is not yet visible. Africa, as we had
been taught, lies in heathen darkness. It is the policy
of the Egyptian government to make the harbor difficult of
access to hostile men-of-war, and we, who are peacefully inclin-
ed, cannot come in till daylight, nor then without a pilot.

The day breaks beautifully, and the Pharos is set like a star
in the bright streak of the East. Before we can distinguish
land, we see the so-called Pompey's Pillar and the light-house,
the palms, the minarets, and the outline of the domes painted
on the straw-color of the sky — a dream-like picture. The cur-
tain draws up with Eastern leisure — the sun appears to rise
more deliberately in the Orient than elsewhere ; the sky grows
more brilliant, there are long lines of clouds, golden and crim-
son, and we seem to be looking miles and miles into an en-
chantetl country. Then ships and boats, a vast number of them,
become visible in the harbor, and as the light grows stronger,
the city and land lose something of their beauty, but the sky
grows more softly fiery till the sun breaks through. The city
lies low along the flat coast, and seems at first like a brownish
white streak, with fine lines of masts, palm-trees, and minarets
above it.

The excitement of the arrival in Alexandria and the novelty
of everything connected with the landing can never be repeated.
In one moment the Orient flashes upon the bewildered traveller;
and though he may travel far and see stranger sights, and pene-
trate the hollow shell of Eastern mystery, he never will see
again at once such a complete contrast to all his previous ex-

WITHIN THE PORTALS.

perience. One strange, unfamiliar form takes the place of
another so rapidly that there is no time to fix an impression,
and everything is so bizarre that the new-comer has no i)oint8
of comparison. He is launched into a new world, and has no
time to adjust the focus of his observation. For myself, I
wished the Orient would stand off a little and stand still so that
I could try to comprehend it. But it would not ; a revolving
kaleidoscope never presented more bewildering figures and
colors to a child than the port of Alexandria to us.

Our fiidt sight of strange dress is that of the pilot and the
crew who bring him off — they are Nubians, he is a swarthy
Egyptian. "How black they are," says the baroness; "I don't
like it." As the pilot steps on deck, in his white turban, loose
robe of cotton, and red slii)pers, he brings the East with him ;
we pass into the influence of the Moslem spirit. Coming into
the harbor we have pointed out to us the batteries, the palace
and harem of the Pasha (more curiosity is felt about a harem
than about any other building, except perhaps a lunatic asylum),
and the new villas along the curve of the shore. It is diflicult
to see any ingress, on account of the crowd of shipping.

The anchor is not down before we are surrounded by row-
boats, six or eight deep on botli sides, with a mob of boatmen
and guides, all standing up and shouting at us in all the broken
languages of three continents. They are soon up the sides and
on deck, black, brown, yellow; in turbans, in tai'booshes, in
robes of white, blue, brown, in brilliant waist-shawls, slippered,
and bare-legged, bare-footed, half-naked, with little on except a
pair of cotton drawers and a red fez, eager, big-eyed, pushing,
yelping, gesticulating, seizing hold of passengers and baggage,
and fighting for the possession of the traveller's goods, which
seem to him about to be shared among a lot of pirates. I saw
a dazed traveller start to land, with some of his travelling-bags
in one boat, his trunk in a second, and himself in yet a third,
and a commissionaire at each arm attempting to drag him into
two others. He evidently couldn't make up his mind, which
to take.

We have decided upon our hotel, and ask for the comm^ission-
aire of it. He appears. In fact there are twenty or thirty of
him. The first one is a tall, persuasive, nearly naked Ethiop,
who declares that he is the only iSimcn Pure, and grasps our

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

hand-bags. Instantly, a fluent, bu8ineHH-like Alexandrian
pusheB him aside — "I am the commisaioruiire" — and is about to
take possession of us. But a doze^i others are of like mind,
and Babel begins. We rescue our property, and for ten minutes
a lively and most amusing altercation goca on as to who is the
representati v^e of the hotel. They all look like pirates from the
Barbary coast, instead of guardians of peaceful travellers.
Quartering an orange, I stand in the centre of an interesting
group, engaged in the most lively discussion, pushing, howling
and fiery gesticulation. The dispute is finally between two :

"/Hotel Europe!"

"/ Hotel Europe ; he no hotel."

"He my brother, all same me."

"He ! I never see he before," with a shrug of the utmost con-
tempt.

As soon as we select one of them, the tumult subsides, the
enemies become friends and cordially joiri in loading our lug-
gage. In the first five minutes of his stay in Egypt, the travel-
ler learns that he is to trust and be served by people who^haven't
the least idea that lying is not a perfectly legitimate means of
attaining any desirable end. And he begins to lose any preju-
dice he may have in favor of a white complexion and of clothes.
In a decent climate he sees how little clothing is needed for
comfort, and how much artificial nations are accustomed to put
on from false modesty.

We begin to thread our way through a maze of shipping, and
hundreds of small boats and barges; the scene is gay and excit-
ing beyond expression. The first sight of the colored, pictured,
lounging, waiting Orient is enough to drive an impr . sionable
person wild; so much that is novel and picturesque is crowded
into a few minutes; so many colors and flying robes; such a dis-
play of bare legs and swarthy figures. We meet flat boats
coming down the harbor loaded with laborers, dark, immobile
groups in turbans and gowns, squatting on deck in the attitude
which is the most characteristic of the East ; no one stands or
sits — everybody squats or reposes cross-legged. Soldiers are on
the move ; smart Turkish officers dart by in light boats with ■
half a dozen rowers, the crew of an English man-of-war pull
past; in all directions the swift boats fly, and with their freight
of color, it is like the thrusting of quick shuttles, in the weaving
of ^ brilliant carpet, before our eyes.

WITHIN THE PORTALS.

We ste}) on shore at the Cu8toin-Hou8e. I liave heard trav-
ellers complain of the delay in getting thixmgli it. I feel that
I want to go ilowly, that I woidd like to be all day in getting
through — that I am hurried along like a pei-son who is dragged
hastily through a gallery, past striking pictures of which he gets
only glimpses. What a group this is on shore ; importuiuite
guides, porters, coolies. They seize hold of us, we want to
stay and look at them. Did ever any civilized men dress so
gayly, so little, or so much in the wrong place] If that fellow
would untwist the folds of his gigantic turban, he would have
cloth enough to clothe himself perfectly. Look ! that's an East
Indian, that's a Greek, that's a Turk, that's a Syrian Jew!
No, he's Egyptian, the crook-nose is not uncommon to Egyp-
tians ; that tall round hat is Persian, that one is from Abys —
there they go, we haven't half seen them ! We leave our pass-
ports at the entrance, and ai-e ivhisked through into the bag-
gage-room, where our guide pays a noble official three francs for
the pleasure of his chance acquaintance ; some nearly naked
coolie-porters, who bear long cords, carry off our luggage, and
before we know it we are in a carriage, and a rascally guide and
interpreter — Heaven knows how he fastened himself upon us
in the past five minutes — is on the box and apparently owns us?
(It took us half a day and liberal backsheesh to get rid of the
evil-eyed fellow). We have gone only a little distance when
half a dozen of the naked coolies inish after us, running by the
carriage and laying hold of it, demanding backsheesh. It ap-
pears that either the boatman has cheated them, or they think
he will, or they haven't had enough. Nobody trusts anybody
else, and nobody is ever satisfied with what he gets, in Egypt.
These blacks, in their dirty white gowns, swinging their porters'
ropes and howling like madmen, pursue us a long way and look
as if they would tear us in pieces. But nothing comes of it.
We drive to the Place Mehemet Ali, the European square, —
having nothing Oriental about it, a square with an equestrian
statue of Mehemet Ali, some trees and a fountain — surrounded
by hotels, bankers' offices and Frank shops.

There is not much in Alexandria to look at except the peo-
ple, and the dirty bazaars. We never before had seen so much
nakedness, filth, and dirt, so much poverty and such enjoy-
ment of it, or at least Indifference to it. We were forced to

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

strike a new scale of estimating poverty and wrotcliodnosH.
People are poor in proportion as their wants are not gratified.
And here are thousands who have few of the wants that we
have, and perhaps less }>overty. It is difficult to estimate the
jioverty of those fortunate children to whom the generous sun
gives a warm color for clothing, who have no occupation but to
sit in the same, all day, in some noisy and picturesque thorough-
fare, and stretch out the hand for the few paras sufficient to
buy their food, who drink at the public fountain, wash in the
tank of the mosque, sleep in street-corners, and feel sure of
their salvation if they know the direction of Mecca. And the
Mohammedan religion seems to be a sort of soul-compass, by
■which the most igiiorant believer can always orient himself.
The best-dressed Christian may feel certain of one thing, that
he is the object of the cool contempt of the most naked, ophthal-
mic, flea-attended, wretched Moslem he meets. The Oriental
conceit is a peg above oura — it is not self-conscious.

In a fifteen minutes* walk in the streets, the stranger finds all
the pictures that he remembers in his illustrated books of
Eastern life. There is turbaned Ali Baba, seated on the hind-
quai-ters of his sorry donkey, swinging his big feel in a constant
effort to urge the beast forward; there is the one eyed calender
who may have arrived last night from Bagdad ; there is the
water-carrier, with a cloth about his loins, staggering under a
full goat-skin — the skin, legs, head, and all the members of the
brute distended, so that the man seems to be carrying a drown-
ed and water-soaked animal ; there is the veiled sister of Zobeide
riding a grey donkey astride, with her knees drawn up (as all
women ride in the East), entirely enveloped in a white gar-
ment which covers her head and puffs out about her like a
balloon — all that can be seen of the woman are the toes of her
pointed yellow slippers, and two black eyes; there is the seller
of sherbet, a waterish, feeble, insipid drink, clinking his glasses;
and the veiled woman in black, with liungry eyes, is gliding
about everywhere. The veil is in two parts, a band about the
forehead, and a strip of black which hangs underneath the eyes
and terminates in a point at the waist; the two parts are con-
nected by an ornamented cylinder of brass, or silver if the
wearer oan afford it, two and a half inches long and an inch in
diameter. This ugly cylinder between the restless eyes, gives

WITHIN THE PORTALS.

the woman an imprisoned, frightened look. AcrOHS the street
from the hott'l, ui)oii the stone coping of the public square, is
squatting houi* after hour in the sun, a row of these forlorn crea-
tures in black, impa-ssive and waiting. We are told that they
are washerwomen waiting for a job. I never can remove the
impression that these women are half stifled behind kheir veils
and the shawls which they draw over the head ; when they move
their heads, it is like the piteous dumb movement of an uncom-
plaining animal.

But the impatient reader is waiting for Pompey's Pillar.
We drive outside the walls, through a thronged gateway, through
streets and among people wretched and picturesque to the last
degree. This is the road to the large Moslem cemetery, and
to-day is Thursday, the day for visiting the graves. The way is
lined with coffee-shops, where men are smoking and playing at
draugh ts \ with stands and booths for the sale of fried cakes and
confections; and all along, under foot, so that it is difficult not
to tread on them, are private markets for the sale of dates, nuts,
raisins, wheat, and doora; the bare-legged owner sits on the
ground and spreads his dust-covered untempting fare on a straw
mat before hiia. It is more wretched and forlorn outside the gate
than within. We are amid heaps of rubbish, small mountains
of it, perhaps the ruins of old Alexandria, perhaps only the
accumulated sweepings of the city for ages, piles of dust, and
broken pottery. Every Egyptian town of any size is sur-
rounded by these — the refuse of ages of weary civilization.

What a number of old men, of blind men, ragged men —
though rags are no disgrace ! What a lot of scrawny* old
women, lean old hags, some of them without their faces
covered — even the veiled ones, you can see, are only bags of
bones. There is a derweesh, a naked holy man, seated in the
dirt by the wall, reading the Koran. He has no book, but he
recites the sacred text in a loud voice, swaying his body back-
wards and forwards. Now and then we see a shrill-voiced,
handsome boy also reading the Koran with all his might, and
keeping a laughing eye upon the passing world. Here comes
a novel turn-out. It is a long truck-wagon drawn by one bony
hoi'se. Upon it are a dozen women, squatting about the edges,
facing each other, veiled, in black, silent, jolting along like so
many bags of meal. A black imp stands in front, driving,
3

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

Thoy carry baflketH of food and flowern, and are going to the
cemetery to spend the tlay.

Wo pa«H the cemetery, for the Pillar is on a little hillock
overlooking it. Nothing can be drearier than this burying-
grouud — unless it may be some other Moslem cemetery. It is an
uneven plain of sand, without a spear of grass or a gi*een thing.
It is covered thickly with ugly stucco, oven-like tombs, the whole
inconceivably shabby and dust covered ; the tombs of the men
have head-stones to distinguifli them from the women. Yet,
shabby as all the details of this crumbling cheap place of sepul-
ture are, nothini; could be gayer or more festive than the scene
before us. Although the women are in the majority, there are
enough men and children present, in colored turbans, fezes, and
gowns, and shawls of Persian dye, to transform the graveyard
int(3 the semblance of a pai*terre of flowers. About hundreds
of the tombs are seated in a circle groups of women, with their
food before them, and the flowers laid upon the tomb, wailing
and how hag in the very excess of dry-eyed grief. Here and
there a group has employed a " welee " or holy man, or a boy,
to read the Koran for it — and ihese Koran-readers turn an
honest para by their vocation. The women spenu iiearly the
entii'e day in this sympathetic vis't to their departed friends —
it is a custom as old as history, and the Egyptians used to build
their tombs with a visiting ante-chamber for the accommodation
of the living. I should think that the Knowledge that such a
group of women were to eat 'theii* luncheon, wailing and roost-
ing about one's tomb every week, would add a new terror to
death.

The Pillar, which was no doul; erected by Diocletian to his
own honor, after the modest i;»f,Qion of Romans as well as
Egy ptiaixs, is in its present surroundings not an object of en-
thusiasm, though it is almost a hundred feet high, and the
monolith shaft was, before age affected it, a fine piece of pol-
ished syenite. It was no doubt a few thousand years older than
Diocletian, and a remnant of that oldest civilization ; the base
and capital he gave it are not worthy of it. Its principal use
now is as a surface for the paint-brushes and chisels of distin-
guished travellers, who have covered it with their precious
names. I cannot sufficiently admire the navvetS and self-depre-
ciation of those traveller who paint and cut their names on such

WITHIN THE PORTALS,

monumf'titR, knowing as tliey must ti:at the first sensible person
who reads the Hanie will say, *' This is an ass,"

We drive, still outside the walls, towards the Mahmoodeeh
canal, passing amid mounds of inibbish, and getting a view of
the desert-like country twyond. And now heaves in sight the
unchanged quintessence of Orientalism — there is our first camels
a camel in use, in his native setting and not in a menagerie.
Thei-e is a line of them, loaded with building-stones, wearily
shambling along. The long bended neck apes humility, but the
supercilious nose in the air oxpi*esses perfect contempt for all
modern life. The contrast of this haughty " stuck-up-ativo-
ness " (it is necessary to coin this word to express the camel's
ancient conceit) with the royal ugliness of the binite, is awe-in-
spiring and amusing. No hinnan royal family dare be uglier
than the camel. He is a mass of bones, faded tufts, humps,
lumps, splay-joints, and callosities. His tail is a ridiculous wisp,
and a failure as an ornament or a fly-bnish. His feet are
simply big sponges. For skin covering he has patches of old
Butfalo robes, faded and with the hair worn off. His voice is
more disagreeable than his appearance. With a reputation for
patience, he is snappisli and vindictive. His endurance is over-
rated — that is to say he dies like a sheep on an expedition of any
lengthj if he is not well fed. His gait moves every muscle like
an ague. And yet this ungainly creature carries his head in
the air, and regards the world out of his great brown eyes with
disdain. The Sphinx is not more placid. He reminds me, I
don't know why, .of a pyramid. He has a resemblance t'^ a
palm-treo. It is impossible to make an Egyptian picture with-
out him. What a Habsburg lip he has ! Ancient, royal !
The very poise of his head says plainly, ** I have come out of
the dim past, before history was ; the deluge did not touch me;
I saw Menes come and go ; I helped Shoofoo build the great
pyramid ; I knew Egypt when it hadn't an obelisk nor a tem-
ple ; I watched the slow building of the pyramid at Sakkara.
Did I not ti'ansport the fathers of your race across the desert ?
There are three of us ; the date-palm, the pyramid, and myself.
Everything else is modern. Go to !"

Along the canal, where lie dahabeehs that will by and by
make their way up the Nile, are some handsome villas, palaces
^nd gardens. This is the favorite drive and promenade. In

MUMMIES AMD MOSLEMS.

the gardens that are open to the public, we find a profusion of
tropical trees and flowering shrubs ; roses are decaying, but the
blossoms of the yellow acacia scent the air ; there are Egyptian
lilies ; the plant with crimson leaves, not native here, grows as
high as the arbutiloa tree ; the red passion-flower is in bloom,
and morning-glories cover with their running vine the tall and
slender cypresses. The finest tree is the sycamore, with great
gnarled trunk, and down-dropping branches. Its fruit, the
sycamore fig, grows directly on the branch, without stem. It
is an insipid fruit, sawdusty, but the Arabs like it, and have
a saying that he who eats one is sure to return to Egypt. After
we had tried to eat one, we thought we should not care to
return. The interior was filled with lively little flies ; and a
priest who was attending. a school of boys taking a holiday in
the grove, assured us that each fig had to be pierced when it was
green, to let the flies out, in order to make it eatable. But the
Egyptians eat them, flies and all.

The splendors of Alexandria must be sought in books. The
traveller will see scarcely any remains of a magnificence which
dazzled the world in the beginning of our era. He may like to
see the mosque that marks the site of the church of St. Mark,
and he may care to look into the Coptic convent whence the
Venetians stole the body of the saint, about a thousand years
ago. Of course we go to see that wonder of our childhood,
Cleopatra's Needles, as the granite obelisks are called that were
brought from Alexandria and set up before a temple of Caesai*
in the time of Tiberius. Only one is standing, the other, muti-
lated, lies prone beneath the aoil. The erect one stands near
the shore and in the midst of hovels and incredible filth. The
name of the earliest king it bears is that of Thothmes III., the
great man of Eg^-pt, whose era of conquest was about 1,500
years before St. Mark came on his mission to Alexandria.

The city which has had as many vicissitudes as most cities,
boasting under the Caesars a population ot half a million, that
had decreased to 6,000 in 1800, and has now again grown to
over two hundred thousand, seems to be at a waiting point ;
the merchants complain that the Suez canal has killed its trade.
Yet its preeminence for noise, dirt, and phabbiness will hardly be
disputed j and its bazaars and streets are much more interesting^
perhaps because it is the meeting-place of all races, than trav-
ellers usually admit.

WITHIN THE PORTALS.

We had scaicely set foot in our hotel when we were saluted
and waited for by dragomans of all sorts. They knocked at our
doors, they waylaid us in the passages ; whenever we emerged
from our rooms half a dozen rose up, bowing low ; it was like
being a small king, with obsequious attendants waiting every
motion. They presented their cards, they begged we would
step aside privately for a moment and look at the bundle of
recommendations they produced ; tliey would not press them-
selves, but if we desired a dragoman for the Nile they were at
our service. They were of all shades of color, except white, and
of all degrees of oriental splendor in their costume. Tliere were
Egyptians, Nubians, Maltese, Oreeks, Syrians. They speak
well all the languages of the Levant and of Europe, except the
one in which you attempt to converse with them. I never made
the acquaintance of so many fine fellows in the same space of
time, AU of them had the strongest letters of coinmendation
from travellers whom they had served, well-known men of letters
and of affairs. Travellers give these endorsements as freely as
they sign applications for government appointments at home.

The name of the handsome dragoman who walked with us
through the bazaars was, naturally enough, Ahmed Abdallah.
He wore the red fez (tarboosh) \vdth a gay kuffia bound about
it ; en embroidered shirt without collar or cravat ; a long shawl
of checked and bright-colored Beyrout silk girding the loins, in
which was carried his watcL and heavy chain ; a cloth coat ;
and baggy silk trousers that would be a gown if they were not
split enougli to gather about each ankle. The costume is rather
Syrian than Egyptian, and very elegant when the materials are
fine ; but with a suggestion of effeminacy to Western eyes.

The native bazaars, which are better at Cairo, reveal to the
traveller, at a glance, the character of the Orient ; its cheap
tinsel, its squalor, and its occasional richness and gorgeousness.
The shops on each side of the narrow street are little more than
good-sized wardrobes, with room for shelves of goods in the rear
and for the merchant to sit cross-legged in front There is usu-
ally space for a customer to sit with him, and indeed two oi*
three can rest on the edge of the platform. Upon cords stretched
across the front hang specimens of the wares for sale. Wooden
shutters close the front at night. These little Cubbies are noc
only the places of sale but bf manufacture of goods. Every-

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

thing goes on in the view of all the world. The tailor is stitch-
ing, the goldsmith is blowing the bellows of his tiny forge, the
saddler is repairing the old donkey-saddles, the shoemaker i»
cutting red leather, the brazier is hammering, the weaver sits,
at his little loom with the treadle in the ground — every trade
goes on, adding its own clatter to the uproar.

What impresses us most is the good nature of the throng,
under trying circumstances. The street is so narrow that
three or four people abreast make a jam, and it is packed with
those moving in two opposing currents. Through this mass,
comes a donkey with a couple of panniers of soil or of bricks,
or bundles of scraggly sticks ; or a camel surges in, loaded with
building-joists or with lime ; or a Turkish officer, with a gayly
caparisoned horse impatiently stamping ; a porter slams along
with a heavy box on his back ; the watter-carrier with his naoty
skin rubs through ; the vendor of sweetmeats finds room for Lxa
broad tray ; the orange-man pushes his cart into the throng ;
the Jew auctioneer cries his antique brasses and more antique
raiment. Everybody is jostled and pushed and jammed ; but
everybody is in an imperturbable good humor, for no one is
really in a hurry, and whatever is, is as it always has beer^ and
will be. And what a cosmopolitan place it is. We meet
Turks, Greeks, Copts, Egyptians, Nubians, Syrians, Armenians,
Italians; tattered derweeshes, "welees" or holy Moslems,
nearly naked, presenting the appearance of men who have been
buried a long time and reoefttly dug up ; Greek } -iests, Jews,
Persian Parsees, Algerines, Hindoos, negroes from Darfoor, and
flat-nosed blacks from beyond Khartoom.

The traveller has come into a country of holiday which is
perpetual. Under this sun and in this aii' there is nothing to
do but to enjoy life and attend to religion five times a day.
We look into a mosque ; in the cool court is a fountain lor
washing ; the mosque is sweet and quiet, and upon its clean
matting a row of Arabs are prostrating themselves in prayer
towards Ihe niche that indicates the direction of Mecca. We
stroll along the open streets encountering a novelty at every
step. Hci'd is a musician, a Nubian .playing upon a sort of
tambour on a frame; a picking, feeble noise he produces, but
he is accompanied by the oddest character we have seen yet.
This is a stalwart, wild-eyed son of the sand, coal-black,, with a

WITHIN THE PORTALS.

great mass of uncombed, disordered hair hanging about his
shoulders. His only clothing is a breech-cloth and a round
shaving-glass bound upon his forehead ; but he has hung about
his waist heavy strings of goats* hoofs, and those he shakes, in
time to the tambour, by a tremulous motion of his big hips as
he minces about. He seems so vastly pleased with himself that
I covet knowledge of his language, in order to tell him that he
looks like an idiot.

Near the Fort Napoleon, a hill by the harbor, we encounter
another scene peculiar to the East. A yellow-skinned, cunning-
eyed copjurer has attracted a ring of idlers about him, who
squat in the blowing dust, u^ider the blazing sun, and patiently
watch his antics. The conjurer himself performs no wonders,
but the spectators are a study of color and feature. The cos-
tumes are brilliant i*ed, yellow, and white. The complexions
exhaust the possibilities of human color. I thought I had seen
black people in South Carolina ; but I saw a boy just now
standing in a doorway who would have been invisible but for
his white shirt ; and here is a fat negress in a bright yellow
gown and kerchief, whose jet face has taken an incredible
polish ; only the most accomplished boot-black could raise such
a shine on a shoe ; tranquil enjoyment oozes out of her. The
conjurer is assisted by two mites of children, a girl and a boy
(no clothing wasted on them), and between the three a great
deal of jabber and whacking with cane sticks is going on, but
nothing is performed except the taking of a long snake from a
bag and tying it round the little girl's neck. Paras are collect-
ed, however, and that is the main object of all performances.

A little further on, another group is gathered around a story-
teller, who is reeling off one of the endless tales in which the
Arab delights ; love-adventures, not always the most delicate,
but none the less enjoyed for that, or the story of some poor lad
who has had a wonderful career and finally married the Sul-
tan's daughter. He is accompanied in his narrative by two
men thumping upon darabooka drums, in a monotonous, sleepy
faphion, quite in accordance, however, with the everlasting
leisure that pervades the air. Walking about are the vendors
of sweets, and of greasy cakes, who carry tripods on which to
rest their brass trays, and who split the air with their cries.

It is color, color^ that makes all this shifting panoi'ama t^Q

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

fascinating, and hides the nakedness, the squalor, the wretched-
ness of all this unconcealed poverty; color in flowing garments,
color in the shops, color in the sky. We have come to the land
of the sun.

At night when we walk around the square we stumble over
bundles of rags containing men who are asleep, in all the cor-
ners, stretched on doorsteps, laid away on the edge of the side-
walk. Opposite the hotel is a casino, which is more Frank than
Egyptian. The musicians are all woiron and Germans or
Bohemians ; the waiter-girls are mostly Italian ; one of them
says she comes from Bohemia, and has been in India, to which
she proposes to return. The JiahiMea are mostly young Egypt-
ians in Frank dress except the tarboosh, and Italians, all effemi-
nate fellows. All che world of loose living and wandering
meets here. Italian is much spoken. There is little that is
Oriental here, except it may be a complaisance toward anything
enervating and languidly wicked that Europe has to offer. This
cheap concert is, we are told, all the amusement at night that
can be offered the traveler, by the once pleasure-loving city of
Cleopatra, in the once brilliant Grreek capital in which Hypatia
was a star.

CHAPTER III.

EGYPT OF TO-DAY.

^GYPT has excellent rsilways. There is no reason why
it should not have. They are made without difficulty,
and easily maintained in a land of no frosts; only where
they touch the desert an occasional fence is necessary against
the drifting sand. The rails are laid, without wooden sleepers,
on iron saucers, with connecting bands, and the track is firm
and sufficiently elastic. The express train travels the 131 miles
to Cairo in about four and a half hours, running with a punc-
tuality, and with Egyptian drivers and conductors too, that is
unique in -^gypt. The opening scene at the station did not
promise expetiition or system.

We reach the station three quarters of an hour before the
departure of the train, for it requires a long time — in Egypt, as
everywhere in Europe — to buy tickets and get baggage weighed.
The officials are slower workers than our treasury-clerks. There
is a great crowd of foreigners, an'^ the baggage-room is piled
with trunks of Americans, * boxes' of Englishmen, and chests
and bundles of all sorts. Behind a high counter in a smaller
room stand the scales, the weigher, and the clerks. Piles of
trunks are brought in and dumped by the porters, and thrust
forward by the servants and dragomans upon the counter, to
gain them preference at the scales. No sooner does a dragoman
get in his trunk than another is thrust ahead of it, and others
are hurled on top, till the whole pile comes down with a cre^h.
There is no system, there are neither officials nor police, and
the excite(? travelers are free to fight it out among themselves.
To venture into the melee is to risk broken bones, and it is
wiser to leave the battle to luck and the dragomans. The noise
is something astonishing. A score or two of men are yelling

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

at the top of their voices, screaming, scolding, damning each
other in polyglot, gesticulating, jumping up and down, quiver-
ing with excitement. This is your Oriental repose ! If there
were any rule by which passengers could take their turns, all
the trunks could be quickly weighed and passed on ; but now
in the scrimmage not a trunk gets to the scales, and a half hour
goes by in which no progress is made and the uproar mounts
higher.

Finally, Ahmed, slight and agile, handing me his cane, kuffia
and watch, leaps over the heap of trunks on the counter and
comes to close quarters with the difficulty. He succeeds in
getting two trunks upon the platform of the scales, but a trav-
eller, whose clothes were made in London, tips them off and
substitutes his own. The weighers stand patiently waiting the
result of tho struggle. Ahmed hurL off the stranger's trunk,
gives its owner a turn that sends him spinning over the bag-
gage, and at last succeeds in getting our luggage weighed. He
emerges from the scrimmage an exhausted man, and we get our
seats in the carriage just in time. However, it does not start
for half an hour.

The reader would like to ride from Alexandria to Cairo, but
he won't care to read much about the route. It is our first ex-
perience of a country living solely by irrigation — the occasional
winter showers being practically of no importance. We pass
along and over the vast shallows of Lake Mareotis, a lake in
winter and a marsh in summer, ride between marshes and cot-
ton-fields, and soon strik 3 firmer ground. We are travelling,
in short, through a Jersey flat, a land black, fat, and rich, with-
out an elevation, broken only by canals and divided into fields
by ditches. Every rod is cultivated, and there are no detached
habitations. The prospect cannot be called lively, but it is not
without interest ; there are ugly buffaloes in the coarse grass,
there is the elegant white heron, which travellers insist is the
sacred ibis, there are some doleful-looking fellaheen, with don-
keys, on the bank of the canal, there is a file of camels, and
there are shadoofs. The shadoof is the primitive method of
irrigation, and thousands of* years have not changed it. Two
posts are driven into the bank of the canal, with a cross-piece
on top. On this swings a pole with a bucket of leather sus-
pended at one Cud^ which is outweighed by a ball of clay at the

EGYPT OF TO-DAY.

other. The fellah stands on the slope of tho baftk and, dipping
the bucket into the water, raises it and pours the fluid into a
sluiceway above. If the bank is high, two and sometimes three
shadoofs are needed to raise the water to the required level.
The labor is prodigiously hard and back-straining, continued as
it must be constantly. All the fellaheen we saw were clad in
blitck, though some had a cloth about their loins. The work-
man usually stands in a sort of a recess in the bank, and his
color harmonizes with the dark soil. Any occuimtion more
wearisome and less bene*icial to the mind I cannot conceive.
To the credit of the Egyptians, the men alone work the shadoof.
"Women here tug water, grind the com, and carry about babies
always j but I never saw one pulling at a shadoof pole.

There is an Arab village ! We need to be twice assured that
it is a village. Kaised on a slight elevation, so as to escape
high water, it is still hardly distinguishable from the land, cer-
tainly not in color. All Arab villages look like fuins ; this is
a compacted collection of shapeless mud-huts, flat-topped and
irregularly thrown together. It is an aggregation of dog-ken-
nels, baked in the sun and cracked. However, a clump of
palm-trees near it gives it an air of repose, and if it possesses a
mosque and a minaret it has a picturesque appearance, if the
observer does not go too near. And such are the habitations
of nearly all the Egyptians.

Sixty-five miles from Alexandria, wc cross the Bosetta branch
of the Nile, on a fine iron bridge — even this portion of the Nile
is a broad, sprawling riv-sr : and we pass through several respec-
table towns which have an appearance of thrift — Tanta especi-
ally, with its handsome station and a palace of the Khedive.
At Tanta is held three times a year a great religious festival
and fair, not unlike the old fair of the ancient Egyptians at
Bubabtis in honor of Diana, with quite as many excuses, and
like that, with a gramme of religion to a pound of pleasure.
'* Now," says Herodotus, " when they are being conveyed to the
city Bubastis, they act as follows: — ^for men and women em-
bark together, and great numbei-s of both sexes embark in every
barge : some of the women have castanets on which they play,
and tJhe men play on the 'flute during the whole voyage ; and
the rest of the women and the men sing and clnj) their hands
together at the same time." And he goes on to say that when

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

i«

they camo to any town they moored the barge, and the women
chaflfed those on shore, and danced with indecent gestures ; and
that at the festival more wine was consumed than ail the rest of
the year. The festival at Tanta is in honor of a famous Mos-
lem saint whose tomb is there; but the tomb is scarcely so
attractive as the field of the fete, with the story-tellers and the
jugglers and booths of dancing girls.

We pass decayed Benha with its groves of Yoosef-Effendi
oranges — the small fruit called Mandarin by foreigners, and
preferred by those who like a slight medicinal smell and taste
in the orange ; and when we are yet twenty miles from Cairo,
there in the south-west, visible for a moment and then hidden
by the trees, and again in sight, faintly and yet clearly outlined
against the blue sky, are two forms, the sight of which gives us
a thrill. They stand still in that purple distance in which we
have seen them all our lives. Beyond these level fields and
these trees of sycamore and date-palm, beyond the Nile, on the
desert's edge, with the low Libyan hills falling off behind them,
as delicate in form and color as clouds, as enduring as the sky
they pierce, the Pyramids of Geezeh ! I try to shake off the
impression of their solemn antiquity, and imagine how they
would strike one if all their mystery were removed. But that
is impossible. Thti imagination always prompts the eye. And
yet I believe that standing where they do stand, and in this
atmosphere, they are the most impressive of human structures.
But the pyramids would be effective, as the obelisk is not, out
of Egypt.

Trees increase in number ; we have villas and gardens ; the
grey ledges of the Mokattam hills come into view, then the
twin slender spires of the mosque of Mohammed Ali on the
citadel promontory, and we are in the modern station of Cairo ;
and before we take in the situation are ignominiously driven
away in a hotel-omnibus. This might happen in Europe. Yes;
but then, who are these in white and blue and red, these squat-
ters by the wayside, these smokers in the sun, these turbaned
riders on braying donkeys and grumbling dromedaries ; what
is all this fantastic masquerade in open day 1 Do people live
in these houses 1 Do women peep from these lattices 1 Isn't
that gowned Arab consciotiB that he is kneeling and praying
outdoors 1 Have we come to a land where all our standards
fail, and people are not ashamed of their religion 1

CHAPTER lY.

CAIRO.

CAIRO ! Cairo ! Masr^l-Kaherah. Tlie Victorious !

City of the Caliphs, of Salah-e'-deen, of the Memlooks !

Town of mediaeval romance projected into a prasaic
age ! More Oriental than Damascus, or Samarcand. Vast,
sprawling city, with dilapidated Saracenic architecture, preten
tious modern barrack-palaces, new villas and gardens, acres of
compacted, squalid, unsunned dwellings. Always picturesque,
lamentably dirty, and thoroughly captivating.

Bhall we rhapsodize over it, or attempt to describ^i it 1 For-
tunately, writers have sufficiently done both. Let li enjoy it.
We are at Shepherd's. It is a caravansary through which the
world flows. At its table (V hote are all nations ; German
princes, English dukes and shopkeepera, Indian officers, Ameri-
can sovereigns; explorers, 8avam,t8, travelers; they have come
for the climate of Cairo, they are going up the Nilo, they are
going to hunt in Abyssinia, to join an advance military party
on the White Nile; they have come from India, from Japan,
from Australia, from Europe, from America.

We are in the Frank quarter called the Ezbekeeh, which
was many years ago a pond during high water, then a garden
with a canal round it, and is now built over with European
houses and shops, except the square reserved for the public
garden. From the old terrace in front of the hotel where the
traveller used to look on trees, he will see now only raw new
houses and a street usually crowded with passers and rows of
sleepy donkeys and their voluble drivers. The hotel is two
stories only, built round a court, damp in rainy or cloudy
weather (and it is learning how to rain as high up the Nile as
Cairo), and lacking the comforts which invalids require in the

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

winter. It is kept on an ingenious combination of the Ameri-
can and European plans ; that is, the traveller pays a fixed
sum per day, and then gets a bill of particulars besides, which
gives him all the pleasures of the European system. We
heard that one would be more Orientally surrounded and better
cared for at the H6tel du Nil ; and the Khedive, who tries his
hand at everything, has set up a New Hotel on the public
square ; but, somehow, one enters Shepherd's as easy as be
goes into a city gate.

They call the house entirely European. But there are peli-
cans walking about in the tropical garden ; on one side is the
wall of a harem, a house belonging to the Khedive's mother,
a harem with closed shutters, but uninteresting, because
there is no one in it, though ostriches are strutting in its paved
court ; in the rear of the house stretches a great grove of tall
date palms standing in a dusty c(f^6W»-strowri field — a lazy
wind is always singing through their tops, and a sakiya (a cow
impelled water-wheel) creaks there day and night ; we never
lock the doors of our rooms ; long-gowned attendants are
always watching in the passages, and, when we want one, in
default of bells, we open the door and clap the hands. All
this, with a juggler performing before the house ; dragomans
and servants and merchants in Oriental costume ; the monoto-
nous strumming of an Arab band in a neighboring cafe ; brick-
layers on the unfinished house jopposite us, working in white
night-gowns and turbans, who might be mistaken at a distance
for female sleep- wrdkers ; and from a minaret not for away,
the tenor-voiced muezzins urging us in the most musical invi-
tation ever extended to unbelievers, to come to prayer at day-
light — this cannot be called European.

An end of the dinner-table, however, is occupied by ft
loud party of young Englishmen, a sprinkling of dukes and
earls and those attendants and attentive listeners of the no-
bility who laugh inordinately when my lord says a good thing,
and are encouraged when my lord laughs loudly at a sally of
theirs, and declares, " well, now, that's very good ;" a party
who seem to regard Cairo as beyond the line of civilization and
its requirements. They talk loud, roar in laughing, stare at
the ladies, and light theii* cigars before the latter have with-
drawn. My comrade notices that they call for champagne be-

CAIRO.

fore fish ; we could overlook anything but that. Some trav-
ellers who are annoyed at their boisterousneBS speak to the
landlord about them, without knowing their rank — supposing
that one could always tell an earl by his superior manners.
These young representatives of England have demanded that
the Khedive shall send them on their hunting tour in Africa,
and he is to do so at considerable cost ; and it is said that he
pays their hotel bills in Cairo. Thi; desire of the Khedive to
stand well with all the European powei-s makes him an easy
prey to any nobleman who does not like to travel in Egypt at
his own expense. (It ought to be added that we encountered
on the Nile an Englishman of high rank who had declined the
Khedive's offer of a free trip).

Cairo is a city of vast distances, especially the new part
which is laid out with broad streets, and built up with isolated
houses, having perhaps a garden or a green court ; open squares
are devoted to fountains and flower beds. Into these broad
avenues the sun pours, and through them the dust swirls in
clouds ; everything is covered with it ; it imparts its grey tint
to the town, and sifts everywhere its impalpable povder. No
doubt the health of Cairo is greatly improved, and epidemics
are lessened, by the destruction of the pestilent o'.d houses and
by running wide streets through the old quarters of twisting
lanes and sunless alleys. But the wide streets are uninterest-
ing, and the sojourner in the city likes to escape out of their
glare and dust into the cool and shady recesses of the old town.
And ho has not far to go to do so. A few minutes' walk from
the Ezbekeeh brings one into a tangle like the crossing paths
of an ants'-nest, into the very heart of the smell and colour of
the Orient, among people, among shops, in the presence of man-
ners, habits, costumes, occupations centuries old, into a life in
which the western man recognizes nothing familiar.

Cairo, between the Mokattam hill of limestone and the Nile,
covers a great deal of gi-ound — about three square miles — on
which dwell somewhere from a third to a half of a million of
people. The traveller cannot see its stock sights in a fortnight,
and though he should be three months, he will find something
novel in the street-life daily, even though he does not, as Mr.
Lane has so admirably done, make a study of the people. And
*' life " goea on in the open streets to an extent which always

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

Burpriaes us, howover familiar wo may be with Italian habits.
Peopl(5 oat, smoke, pray, sleep, carry on all their trades in the
sight of the passers-by — only into the recesses of the harem
and the faces of the women one may not look. And this last
mystery and reserve almost outweighs the openness of every-
thing else. One feels as if he were in a masquerade ; the part
of the world which is really most important — womankind —
appears to him only in shadow and Hitting phantoms. What
danger is he in from these wrapped and veiled figures which
glide by, shooting him w'th a dark and perhaps wicked eye ;
what peril is he in as he slips through these narrow streets
with their masked batteries of latticed windows ! This East-
ern life is all open to the sun ; and yet how little of its secrets
does the stranger fathom. I seem to feel, always, in an East-
ern town, that there is a mask of duplicity and concealment
behind which the Orientals live ; that they habitually deceive
the traveller in his "gropings after truth."

The best way of getting about Cairo and its environs ' on
the donkey. It is cheap and exhilarating. The donl *8
easily mounted and easily got oflf from ; not seldom he will
weaken in his hind legs and let his rider to the ground — a
sinking operation which destroys your confidence in life itself.
Sometimes he stumbles and sends the rider over his head.
But the good donkey never does either. He is the best ani-
mal, of his size and apjjearance, living. He has the two
qualities of our greatest generals, patience and obstinacy. The
good donkey is easy as a rocking-chair, sure-footed as a cha-
mois ; he can thread any crowd, and stand patiently dozing in
any noisy thoroughfare for hours. To ride him is only a slight
compromise of one's independence in walking. One is so near
the ground, and so absent-mindedly can he gaze at what is
around him, that he forgets that there is anything under him.
When the donkey, in the excitement of company on the open
street, and stimulated by the whacks and cries of his driver,
breaks into the rush of a galop, there is so much flying of legs
and such a general flutter, that the rider fancies he is getting
over the ground at an awful rate, running a breakneck race ;
but it does not appear so to an observer. The rider has the
feeling of the swift locomotion of the Arab steed without its
danger or its expense. Besides, a long-legged man, with at,

jCAIRO.

am-
two
The
cha-

cork liat and a flying linen " duster," tearing madly al(»ng on
an animal an big an a ubeep, in an amusing spectacle.

The donkey is abused, whacked, beaten till ho is raw, sad-
dled so that all the strajis gall him, hard-ridden, left for hours
to be assailed by the flies in the street, and ridiculed by all
men. I wish we could know what sort of an unimal contui-iea
of good treatment would have made of him. Something no
doubt quite beyond human deserts ; as it is, he is simply indis-
pensable in Eastern life. And not seldom he is a pet ; he
wears jingling bells and silver ornaments around his neck ; hia
hair is shaved in spots to give him a variegated appearance,
and his mane and tail are dyed with henna ; he has on an em-
broidered cloth bridle and a handsome saddle, under which is a
scarlet cloth worked with gold. The length and silkiness of
his ears are signs of his gentle breeding. I could never under-
stand why he is loaded with such an enormous saddle ; the
pommel of it rising up in front of the rider as big as a half-
bushel measure. Perhaps it . thought well to put this mass
upon his back so that he will not notice or mind any additional
weight.

The donkey's saving quality, in this exacting world, is in-
ertia. And yet he is not without ambition. He dislikes to be
passed on the road by a fellow ; and if one attempts it he is
certain to sheer in ahead of him and shove him off the track.
" Donkey jealous one anoder," say the drivers.

Each donkey has his driver or attendant, without whose
presence, behind or at the side, the animal ceases to go forward.
These boys, and some of them are men in stature, are the
quickest- witted, most importunate, good natured vagabonds in
the world. They make a study of human nature, and accu-
rately measure every traveller the moment he appears. They
are agile to do errands, some of them are better guides than
the professionals, they can be entrusted with any purchases
you may make, they run, carrying their slippers in their hand,
all day oeside the donkey, and get only a pittance of pay.
They are, however, a jolly, larkish set, always skylarking with
each other, and are not unlike the newspaper boys of New
York ; now and then one of them becomes a trader or a drag-
oman, and makes his fortune.

If you prefer a carriage, good vehicles have become plenty of

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

hite years, since there are broad streets for driving ; and some
very handsomo equipages are seen, especially towards evening
on the Shoobra road, up and down which people ride and drive
to be seen and to see, as they do in Central or Hyde park. It
is en rkgle to have a sais running before the carriage, and it is
tiie " swell thing" to have two of them. The running sais
before a rapidly driven carriage is the prettiest sight in Cairo.
He is usually p. dlender handsome 'black fellov. , probably a Nu-
bian, brilliantly dressed, graceful in every motion, running with
perfect eace and able to keep up his pace for hours without
apparent fatigue. In the days of narrow streets his services
were indispensable to clear the way ; and even now he is useful
in the frequented ways where every one walks in the middle of
the street, and the chattering, chaflSing throngs are as heedless
of anything coming as they are of the day of judgment. In
red tarboosh with long tassel, silk and gold embroidered vest
and jacket, colored girdle with ends knotted and hanging at
the side, short silk trousers and bare legs, and long staff, gold-
tippti, in the hand, as graceful in running as Antinous, they
are most elegant appendages to a fashionable turnout. If they
could not be naturalized in Central Park, it might fill some of
the requirements of luxury to train a patriot from the Green
Isle to run before the horses, in knee-breeches, flourishing a
shillalaii. Faith, I think he would clear the way.

Especially do I like to see the sais coming down the wind
before a carriage of the Toyal harem. The outriders are
eunuchs, two in front and two behind ; they are blacks, dressed
in black clothes, European cut, except the tarboosh. They ride
fine horses, English fashion, rising in the saddle ; they have
long limbs, lank bodies, cruel, .weak faces, and yet cunning ;
they are sleek, shiny, emasculated. Ha,ving no sex, you might
say they have no souls. How can these anomalies have any
virtue, since virtue implies the opportunity of its opposite 1
These semblances of men seem proud enough of their position,
however, and of the part they play to their masters, as if ttiey
did not know the repugnance they excite. The carriage they
attend is covered, but the silken hangings of the glass windows
are drawn aside, revealing the white-veiled occupants. They
indeed have no constitutional objections to being seen; the thin
veil enhanoas their charms, and the observer who sees their

CAIRO.

hey
hin
leir

painted faces and bright langiiiahing eyea, no doubt gives them
credit for as much beauty as they possess ; and as they flash by,
I suppose that every one is convinced that he has seen one of
the mysterious Circassian or Georgian beauties.

The minute the traveller shows himself on the hotel terrar^e,
the donkey-boys clamor, and push forward their animals upon
the sidewalk ; it is no small difficulty to select one out of the
tangle ; there is noise enough used to tit out an expedition to
the desert, and it is not till the dragoman has laid vigorously
about him with his stick that the way is clear. Your nation-
ality is known at a glance, and a donkey is instantly named to
suit you — the same one being called, indifferently, ** Bismarck"
if you are German, " Bonaparte" if you are French, and
" Yankee Doodle" if you are American, or " Ginger Bob" at a
venture.

We are going to Boulak, the so-called port of Cairo, to select
a dahabeeh for the Nile voyage. We are indeed only getting
ready for this voyage, and seeing the ^city by the way. The
donkey-boys speak English like natives — of Egypt. The one
running beside me, a handsome boy in a long cocton shirt, is
named, royally, Mahmoud Hassan.

" Are you the brother of Hassan whom I had yesterday T

"No. He, Hassan not my brother; he better, he friend.
Breakfast, lunch, supper, all together, all same, all same money.
We friends."

Abd-el-Atti, our dragomar., is riding ahead on his grey don-
key, and I have no difficulty in following his broad back and
short legs, even though his donkey should be lost to sight in
the press. He rides as Egyptians do, without stirrups, and uses
his heels as spurs. Since Mohammed Abd-el-Atti Effendi first
went up the Nile, it is many years ago now, with Mr. Wm. C.
Prime, and got his name prominently into the Nile literature,
he has grown older, stout, and rich : he is entitled by his posi-
tion to the distinction of " Effendi." He boasts a good family,
as good afe' any ; most of his relatives . re, and he himself has
been, in government employ ; but he left it because, as he says,
he prefers one master to a thousand. When a boy, he went
with the embassy of Mohammed Ali to England, and since that
time he has travelled extensively as courier in Europe and the
Levant and as mail-courier to India. Mr. Prime described

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

him as having aomewha^ the complexion and features of the
North American Indian ; it is true, but he has a shrewd rest-
less eye, and very mobile features, quick to image his good
humor or the reverse, breaking intx) smiles, or clouding over
upon his easily aroused suspicion. He is a good study of the
Moslem and the real Oriental, a combination of the easy, pro-
crastinating fatalism, and yet with a tindery temper and an
activity of body and mind that we do not usually associate
with the East. His prejudices are inveterate, and he is an un-
forgiving enemy and a fast, self-sacrificing friend. Not to be
driven, he can always be won by kindness. Fond of money
and not forgetting the last piastre due him, he is generous and
lavish to a fault. A devout Moslem, he has seen too much of
the world not to be liberalized. He linows the Koran and the
legendary history of the Arabs, and speaks and writes Arabic
above the average. An exceedingly shrewd observer and
reader of character, and a mimic of other's peculiarities, he is a
good raconteur, in his peculiar English, and capital company.
It is, by the way, worth observing what sharp observers all
these Eastern people become, whose business it is to study and
humor the whims and eccentricities of travellers. The western
man who thinks that the Eastern people are childlike or effete,
will change his mind after a few months' acquaintance with the
shrewd Egyptians. Abd-el-Atti has a good deal of influence
and even authority in his sphere, and although his executive
ability is without system, he' brings things to pass. Wherever
he goes, however, there is a ripple and a noise. He would like
to go to Nubia with us this winter, he says, " for shange
of air."

So much is necessary concerning the character who is to be
our companion for many months. No dragoman is better
known in the East ; he is the sheykh of the dragomans of
Cairo, and by reason of his age and experience he is hailed on
the river as the saltan of the Nile. He di-esses like an Eng-
lishman, except his fez.

The great worry of the voyager in Egypt, from the moment
he lands, is about a dragoman ; his comfort and pleasure
depend very much upon a right selection. The dragoman and
the dahabeeh interest him more than the sphinx and the great
pyramids. Taking strangers up th6 Nile seems to be the great

CAIRO,

ling-
Lent
liire
and
reat
reat

business of Egypt, and all the intricacies and tricks of it are
slowly learned. Ignorant of the language and of the character
of the people, the stranger may well be in a maze of doubt and
perplexity. His gorgeously attired dragoman, whose recom-
mendations would fit him to hold combined the offices of Presi-
dent of the American Bible Society and caterer for Delmonico,
often turns out to be ignorant of his simplest duties, to have
an inhabited but uninhabitable boat, to furnish a meagre table,
and to be a sly knave. The traveller will certainly have no
peace from the importunity of the dragomans \intil he makes
his choice. One hint ci<,n be given ; it is always best in a Mos-
lem country to take a Moslem dragoman.

We are on our way to Boulak. The sky is full of white
light. The air is full of dust ; the streets are full of noise,
color, vivid life, and^motion. Everything is flowing, free, joy-
ous. Naturally people fall into picturesque groups, forming,
separating, shifting like scenes on the stage. Neither the rich
silks and brilliant dyes, nor the tattered rags, and browns and
greys are out of place ; full dress and nakedness are equally
en rhgle. Here is a grave, long-bearded merchant in full
turban and silk gown, riding his caparisoned donkey to his
shop, followed by his pipe-bear v ; here is a half-naked fellah
seated on the rear of his sorry-eyed beast, with a basket of
greens in front of him ; here are a group of women, hunched
astride their donkeys, some in white silk and some in black,
shapeless in their balloon mantles, peeping at the world over
their veils ; here a handsome sais runs ahead of a carriage with
a fat Turk lolling in it, and scatters the loiterers right and left ;
there are porters and beggars fasfc asleep by the roadside, only
their heads covered from the sun ; there are lines of idlers
squatting in all-day leisure by the wall, smoking, or merely
waiting for to-morrow.

As we get down to Old Boulak the Saturday market is en-
countered. All Egyptian markets occupy the street or some
open place, and whatever is for sale here, is exposed to the dust
and the sun ; fish, candy, dates, live sheep, doora, beans, all the
doubtful and greasy compounds, on brass trays, which the people
eat, nuts, raisins, sugar-cane, cheap jewelry. It is difficult to
force a Avay through the noisy crowd. The donkey-boy cries
j.erpetually, to clear the way, " ya," take care, " shimalak I " to

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

I I

the left, " yemenak I " to the right, ya ! rigldk ! look out for
your left leg, look 'out for your right leg, make way, boy; make
way old woman ; but we joggle the old woman, and just escape
stepping on the children and babies strewn in the street, and
tread on the edge of mats spread on the ground, upon which
provisions are exposed (to the dust) for sale. In the narrow,
shabby streets, with dilapidated old balconies meeting overhead,
we encounter loaded camels, donkeys with double panniers,
hawkers of vegetables ; and dodge through, bewildered by colour
and stunned by noise. What is it that makes all picturesque 1
More dirt, shabbiness, and nakedness never were assembled.
That fellow who has cut armholes in a sack for holding nuts,
and slipped into it for his sole garment, would not make a good
figure on Broadway, but he is in place here, and as fitly dressed
as anybody. These rascals wUl wear a bit of old carpet as if it
were a king's robe, and go about in a pair of drawers that are
all rags and strings, and a coarse towel twisted about the head
for turban, with a gay insoucicmce that is pleasing. In fact I
suppose that a good, well-fitting black or nice brown skin is
about as good as a suit of clothes.

But O ! the wi'inkled, flabby-breasted old women, who make
a pretence of drawing the shawl over one eye ; the naked, big-
stomached children with spindle legs, who sit in the sand and
never brush away the circle of flies around each gummy eye !
The tumble-down houses, kennels in which the family sleep,
the poverty of thousands of years, borne as if it were the only
lot of life ! in spite of all this, there is not, I venture to say, in
the world beside, anything so full of color, so gay and hiza/rre
as a street in Cairo. And we are in a squalid suburb.

At the shore of the swift and now falling Nile, at Boulak,'
are m(X)red, four or five deep, the passenger dahabeehs, more
than a hundred of them, gay with new paint and new carpets,
to catch the traveller. There are small and large, old and new
(but all looking new) ; those that were used for freight during
the summer and may be full of vermin, and those reserved ex-
clusively for strangers. They can be hired at from sixty
pounds to two hundred pounds a month ; the English owner of
one handsomely furnished wanted seven hundred and fifty
pounds for a three-months' voyage. The Nile trip adds luxury
to itself every year, and is getting so costly that only Ame-
ricans will be able to afford it.

CAIRO.

make
, big-
Id and
eye!
leep,
only

y, i»
za/rre

^ulak,-
Imore
rpets,
new
luring
3d ex-
I sixty
ler of
fifty
ixury
lAme-

After hours of search Wt; settle upon a boat that will suit us,
a large boat that had only made a short trip, and so new that
we are at liberty to christen it ; and the bargaining for it begins.
That is, the bargaining revolves around that boat, but glances
off as we depart in a rage to this or that other, until we appear
to me to be hiring half the craft on the river. We appear to
come to terms ; again and again Abd-el-Atti says, " Well, it is
finish," but new difficulties arise.

The owners were an odd pair : a tall Arab in soiled gown
and turban, named Ahmed Aboo Yoosef, a mild and wary
Moslem ; and Habib Bagdadli, a furtive little Jew, in Frank
dress, with a cast in one of his pathetic eyes and a beseeching
look, who spoke bad French fluently. Aboo Yoosef was ready
to come to terms, but Bagdadli stood out ; then Bagdadli ac-
quiesced, but Aboo made conditions. Abd-el-Atti alternately
coaxed and stormed ; he pulled the Arab's beard ; and he put
his arm round his neck and whispered in his ear.

" Come, let us to go, dis Jews make me mad. I can't do any-
thing with dis little Jews."

Our dragoman's greatest abhorrence is a Jew. " Where is
this one from ]" I ask.

" He from Algiers." The Algerian Jews have a bad repu-
tation.

" iVb, 7M), m67i8ieur,pa8 Algiers" cries the little Jew, appealing
to me with a pitiful look ; " I am from Bagdad." In proof of
this there was his name — Habib Bagdadli.

The bargaining goes on, with fine gesticulation, despairing
attitudes, tones of anger and of grief, violent protestations and
fallings into apathy and dejection. It is Arab against Arab
and a Jew thrown in.

" I will have this boat, but I not put you out of the way on
it ;" says Abd-el- Atti, and goes at it again.

My sympathies are divided. I can see that the Arab and
the Jew will be ruined if they take what we offer. I know
that we shall be ruined if we give what they ask. This pathetic-
eyed little Jew makes me feel that I am oppressing his race ;
and yet I am quite certain that he is trying to overreach us.
How the bargain ii+ finally struck I know not, but made it seems
to be, and clinched by Aboo reluctantly pulling his purse from
his bosom and handing Abd-el-Atti a napoleon. That binds the

S<5

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

bargain ; instead of the hirer paying something, the lessor gives
a pledge.

Trouble, however, is not ended. Certain alterations and
additions are to be made, and it is nearly two weeks before the
evasive couple complete them. The next day they offer us
twenty pounds to release them. The pair are always hanging
about for some mitigation or for some advance. The gentle
Jew, who seems to me friendless, always excites the ire of our
dragoman ; " Here comes dis little Jews," he exclaims as he
encounters him in the street, and forces him to go and fulfil some
neglected promise.

The boat is of the largest size, and has never been above the
Cataract ; the owners guarantee that it can go, and there is put
in the contract a forfeit, of a hundred pounds if it will not. We
shall see afterwards how the owners sought to circumvent us.
The wiles of the Egyptians are slowly learned by the open-
minded stranger.

gives

and
■e the
er us
aging
jentle
►f our
i& he
some

e the
IS put
. We

it US.

open-

h'x

CHAPTER V.

IN THE tiAZAAR.

jUR sight-seeing in Cairo is accomplished under the
superintendence of another guide and dragoman, a
cheerful, willing, good-natured and careful Moslem,
with one eye. He looks exactly like the one-eyed calender of
the story ; and his good eye has a humorous and inquiring
twinkle in it. His name is Hassan, but he prefers to be called
Hadji, the name he has taken since he made the pilgrimage to
Mecca.

A man who has made the pilgrimage is called " the hhagg,"
a woman " the hhaggeh," often spelled and pronounced " hadj "
and " hadgee." It seems to be a privilege of travellers to spell
Arabic words as they please, and no two writers agree on a
single word or name. The Arabs take a new name or discard
an old one as they like, and half a dozen favourite names do
duty for half the inhabitants. It is rare to meet one who hasn't
somewhere about him the name of Mohammed, Ahmed, Ali,
Hassan, Hosayn, or MahmoudL People take a new name as
they would a garment that strikes the fancy.

" You like go bazaar V asks Hadji after the party is mount-
ed on donkeys in front of the hotel.

" Yes, Hadji, go by the way of the Mooskee."

The Mooskee is the best known street in Cairo, and the only
one in the old part of the town that the traveller can find un-
aided. It runs straight, or nearly so, a mile perhaps, into the
most densely built quarters, and is broad enough for carriages.
A considerable part of it is roofed lightly over with cane or
palm slats, through which the sun sifts a little light, and, being
watered, it is usually cool and pleasant. It cannot be called a

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

good or even road, but carriages and donkeys pass over it with-
out noise, the wheels making only a smollicied sound : you may
pass through it many times and not discover that a canal runs
underneath it. The lower part of it is occupied by European
shops. There are no fine shops in it like those in the Ezbekeeh,
and it is not interesting like the bazaars, but it is always
crowded. Probably no street in the world offers such a variety
of costumes and nationalities, and in no one can be heard more
languages. It is the main artery, from which branch off the
lesser veins and reticulations leading into the bazaars.

If the Mooskee is crowded, the bazaars are a jam. Different
trades and nationalities have separate quartei*s, the articles that
are wanted are far apart, and one will of necessity consume a
day in making two or three purchases. It is an achievement to
find and bargain for a piece of tape.

In one quarter are red slippers, nothing but red slippers,
hundreds of shops hung with them, shops in which they are
made and sold ; the yellow slippers are in another quarter, and
by no chance does one merchant keep both kinds. There are
the silk bazaars, the gold bazaars, the silver bazaars, the brass,
the arms, the antiquity, the cotton, the spice, and the fruit
bazaars. In one quarter the merchants and manufacturers are
all Egyptians, in another Turks, in another Copts, or Algerines,
or Persians, or Armenians, or Greeks, or Syrians, or Jews.

And what is a bazaar 1 Sijnply a lane, narrow, straight or
crooked, winding, involved, interrupted by a fountain, or a
mosque, intersected by other lanes, a congeries of lanes, roofed
with matting it may be, on each side of which are the little
shops, not much bigger than a dry-goods box or a Saratoga
trunk. Frequently there is a story above, with hanging balco-
nies and latticed windows. On the ledge of his shop the
merchant, in fine robes of silk and linen, sits cross legged, pro-
bably smoking his chibook. He sits all day sipping coffee and
gossiping with his friends, waiting for a customer. At the
times of prayer he spreads his prayer-carpet and pursues his
devotions in sight of all the world.

This Oriental microcosm called a bazaar is the most charac-
teristic thing in the East, and affords most entertainment ; in
these cool recesses, which the sun only penetrates in glints, is
all that is shabby and all that is splendid in this land of violent

IN THE BAZAAR.

contrasts. The shops are rude, the passages are unpaved dirt,
the matting above hangs in slireds, the unpainted baloouien are
about to tumble down, the lattice- work is grey with dust ; fleas
about ; you ai-e jostled by an unsavory throng, may be ; run
against by loaded donkeys ; grazed by the dripping goat-skins
of the water-c.;rriers ; beset by beggars ; followed by Jews
offering old brasses, old cashmeres, old armor ; squeezed against
black backs from the Soudan ; and stunned by the sing-song
cries of a dozen callings. But all this is nothing. Here are
the perfumes of Arabia, the coloui-s of Paradise. These narrow
streets are streams of glancing colour ; these shops are more
brilliant than any picture — but in all is a softened harmony,
the ancient art of the East.

We are sitting at a corner, pricing some pieces of old brass
and arms. The merchant sends for tiny cups of coffee and
offers cigarettes. He and the dragoman are wrangling about
the price of something for which five times its value is asked.
Nc't unlikely it will be sold for less than it is worth, for neither
trader nor traveller has any idea of its value. Opposite is a
shop where three men sit cross-legged, making cashmere shawls
by piecing old bits of India scarfs. Next shop is occupied only
by a boy who is reading the Koran in a loud voice, rocking
forwards and backwards. A stooping seller of sherbet comes
along clinking his glasses. A vendor of sweetmeats sets his
tray before us. A sorry beggar, a dwarf, beseeches in figurative
language.

" What does he want, Hadji 1"

" He say him hungry ; want piece bread ; 0, no matter for
he."

The dragomans never interpret anything, except by short
cuts. What the dwarf is reaUy saying, according to Mr.
Lane, is,

" For the sake of God ! ye charitable. I am seeking from
my lord a cake of bread. I am the guest of God and the
Prophet."

As we cannot content him by replying in like strain, " God
enrich thee," we earn his blessing by a copper or two.

Across the street is an opening into a nest of shops, gayly
hung with embroideries from Constantinople, silks from Broussa
and Beyrout, stuffs of Damascus ; a Persian rug is spread on

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

■

\
fc

[

the mustubah of the shop, swords and inlaid pistols with flint
locks shino amid the rich stuffH. Looking down this street, one
way, is a long vista of bright colour, the street passing under
round arches, through which I see an old wall painted in red
and white squares, upon which the sun falls in a flood of white
light. The street in which we are sitting turns abruptly at a
little distance, and apparently ends in a high Moorish house,
with queer little latticed windows, and balconies, and dusty re-
cesses full of mystery in this half light ; and at the comer
opposite that, I see part of a public fountain and hear very
distinctly the ♦* studying" of the school over it.

The public fountain is one of the best institutions of Cairo, as
well as one of the most ornamental. On the street it is a
rounded Saracenic structure, highly ornamented in carved marble
or stucco, and gayly painted, having in front two or thr^je faucets
from which the water is drawn. Within is a tank which is re-
plenished by water brought in skins from the Nile. Most of
these fountains are charitable foundations, by pious Moslems,
who leave or set apart a certain sum to ensure the yearly sup-
ply of so many skins of water. Charity to the poor is one of
the good traits of the Moslems, and the giving of alms and the
building of fountains are the works that will be rewarded in
Paradise.

These fountains, some of which are Tery beautiful, are often
erected near a mosque. Ov.er them, in a room with a vaulted
roof and open to the street by three or four arches with pillars,
is usually a boys' school. In this room on the floor sit the
master and his scholars. Each pupil has before him his lesson
written on a wooden tablet, and this he is reading at the top of
his voice, committing it to memory, and swaying incessantly
backwards and forwards — a movement that is supposed to assist
the memory. With twenty boys shouting together, the noise
is heard above all the clamour of the street. If a boy looks off
or stops his recitation, the stick of the schoolmaster sets him
going again.

The boys learn first the alphabet, then the ninety-nine epi-
thets of God, and then the Koran, chapter by chapter. This
is the sum of human knowledge absolutely necessary ; if the boy
needs writing and arithmetic, he learns them from the steelyard
weigher in the market ; or if he is to enter any of the profes-

IN THE BAZAAR.

son
of
[tly
iist
tise
off
lim

•

)i-
lis

iU-

sions, he ha« a repriilar course of study in the Mosqii© el Ezher,
which haa thousands of students, and is the great University of
the East.

Sitting in the bazaar for an hour one Avill see strange sights ;
wedding and funeial processions are not the letust interesting of
them. We can never get accustomed to the ungainly camel,
thrusting his huge bulk into these narrow limits, and stretch-
ing his snake nock from side to side, his dark driver sitting
high up in the dusk of the roof on the wooden saddle, and sway-
ing to and fro with the long stride of the beast. The camel
ought to be used in funeral processions, but I believe he is not.

We hear now a chanting down the dusky street. Somebody
is being carried to his tomb in the desert outside the city. The
procession has to squeeze through the crowd. First come a
half dozen old men, ragged and half blind, harbingers of death,
who move slowly, crying in a whining tone, " There is no deity
but God ; Mohammed is God's apostle ; God bless and save
him." Then come two or three schoolboys singing in a more
lively air verses of a funeral hymn. The bier is borne by friends
of the deceased, who are relieved occasionally by casual passen-
gers. On the bier, swathed in grave clothes, lies the body, with
a Cashmere shawl thrown over it. It is followed by female
hired women, who beat their breasts and howl with shrill and
prolonged ululations. The rear is brought up by the female
mourners, relations — a group of a dozen in this case — whose
hair is dishevelled, and who are crying and shrieking with a
perfect abandonment to the luxury of grief. Passengers in the
street stop and say, " God is most great," and the women point
to the bier and say, " I testify that there is no deity but God."

When the funeral has passed and its incongruous mingling
of chanting and shrieking dies away, we turn towards the gold
bazaar. All the goldsmiths and silversmiths are Copts ; through-
out Egypt the working of the precious metals Ls in their hands.
Descended from the ancient Egyptians, or at least having more
of the blood of the original race in them than others, they have
inherited the traditional skill of the ancient workers in these
metals. They reproduce the old jewelry, the barbarous orna-
ments, and work by the same rude methods, producing some-
times the finest work with the most clumsy tools.

The gold-bazaar is the narrowest passage we have seen. Wo

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

stop down !-.to its twilight from a broafler street, [t is in fact
about three feet wide, u lane; with aii uneven floor of earth,
often slippery. On each side are the little shops, just large
enough for the dealer and his iron sjife, or for a tiny forge, bel-
lows and anvil. Two people have to make way for each other
in squeezing along this alley, and if a donkey comes through he
monopolizes the way, and the passengers have to climb ui)on
tlie mustubahs either side. The mustubah is a raised seat of
stone or brick, built against the front of the shop and level with
its floor, say two feet and a half high and two feet broad. The
lower shutter of the shop turns down upon the mustubah and
forms a seat ui)on which a rug is spread. The shopkeeper may
sit upon this, or withdraw into his shop to make room for cus-
tomers, who remove their shoes before drawing up their feet
upon the carpet. Sometimes three or four persons will crowd
into this box called a shop. The bazaar is a noisy as well as a
crowded place, for to the buzz of talk and the cries of the
itinerant vendors is added the clang of the goldsmiths' ham-
mers ; it winds down into the recesses of decaying houses and
emerges in another direction.

\Ye are to have manufactured a bracelet of gold of a pattern
as old as the Pharaohs, and made with the same instruments
that the canning goldsmiths used three thousand years ago.
While we are seated and bargaining for the work, the goldsmith
unlocks his safe and shows us ne laces, bracelets, anklets, and
earrings in the very forms, bizarre but graceful, of the jewelry
of which the Israelites spoiled the Egyptian women. We see
just such in the Museum at Boulak ; though these are not so
fine as the magnificent jewellery wliich Queen Aah-hotep, the
mother of Amosis, attempted to carry with her into the under-
world, and which the scientific violators of her tomb rescued at
Thebes.

In the shop opposite to us are squeezed in three Egyptian
women and a baby, who have come to spend the day in cheap-
ening some bit of jewelry. There is apparently nothing that
the Cairo women like so much as shopping — at least those who
are permitted to go out at all — and they eke out its delights by
consuming a day or two in buying one article. These women
are taking the trade leisurely, examining slowly and carefully
the whole stock of the goldsmith and deliberating on each bead

IN THE BAZAAR.

fact
arth,
largo
, hii\-
othor
^h he
upon
sat of
[with
The
[1 and
r may
)r CU8-
ir feet
crowd
ill as a
of the
' ham-
les and

pattern
iments
:a ago.
dsraith
its, and
lewelry
e see
not so
[ep, the
under-
!ued at

and (liop of a necklace, glancing slily at iih and tho paRfinT*H-!.y
out ol" tiiuii' dark eyes muuntinit?. Tliey havci brought cakes of
bread for lunch, and the baby is publicly f(Ml as often as ho
desires. These women have the power of sitting still in one
spot for hours, squatting with perfect patience in a j)osture that
would give a western woman the cramp for her lifetime. We
are an hour in bargaining with the goldsmith, and are to return
late in the afternoon and see the bracelet made before our eyes,
for no one is expected to trust his fellow here.

Thus far the gold has only been melted into an ingot, and
that with many precautions against fraud. I first count out
the napoleons of which the bracelet is to be made. These are
weighed. A tire is then kindled in the little forge, the cnicible
heated, and I drop the naix)leon8 into it, one by one. We all
carefully watch the melting, to be sure that no gold is spilled in
the charcoal and no base metal added. The melted mass is
then run into an ingot, and the ingot is weighed against the
same number of napoleons that compose it. And I carry away
the ingot.

When we return the women are still squatting in the shop in
the attitude of the morning. They show neither impatience
nor weariness; nor does the shopkeeper. The baby is sprawled
out in his brown loveliness, and the purchase of a barbarous
necklace of beads is about concluded. Our goldsmith now re-
moves his outer garment, revealing his fine gown of striped silk,
pushes up his sleeves and prepares for work. His only tools
are a small anvil, a hammer and a pair of pincers. The ingot
is heated and hammered and heated and hammered, until it is
drawn out into an even, thick wire. This is then folded in
three to the required length, and twisted, till the gold looks like
molasses candy ; the ends are then hammered together, and the
bracelet is bent to its form. Finally it is weighed again and
cleaned. If the owner wishes he can have put on it the gov-
ernment stamp. Gold ornaments that are stamped the gold-
smith will take back at any time and give for them their weight
in coin, less two per cent.

On our way home we encounter a wedding procession ; thi«
is the procession conducting the bride to the house of the
bridegroom, that to the bath having taken place two days be-
fore. The night of the day before going to the bridegroom is

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

called the " Night of Henna." The bride has an entertainment
at her own house, receives presents of money, and has her
hands and her feet dyed with henna. The going to the bride-
groom is on the eve of either Monday or Friday. These pro-
cessions we often meet in the streets of Cairo ; they wander
about circuitously through the town, making all the noise and
display possible. The procession is a rambling affair, and gene-
rally attended by a rabble of boys and men.

This one is preceded by half a dozen shabbily dressed musi-
cians beating different sorts of drums and blov/ing hautboys,
each instrument on its own hook ; the tune, it there was one,
htya become discouraged, and the melody has dropped out ;
thump, pound, squak, the music is more disorgani?!ed than the
procession, and draggles on in noisy dissonance like a drunken
militia band at the end of a day's " general training."

Next come some veiled women in black ; and following them
are several small virgins in white. The bride walks next, with
a woman each side of her to direct her steps. This is necessa-
ry, for she is covered from head to feet with a red cashmere
shawl, hanging from a sort of crown on the top of her head.
She is in appearance simply a red cone. Over her and on
three sides of her, but open in front, is a canopy of pink silk,
borne on poles by four men. Behind straggle more musicians,
piping and thumping in an independent nonchalance, followed
by gleeful boys. One attendant sprinkles rose-water on the
spectators, and two or three others seem to have a general
direction of the course of the train, and ask backsheesh for it
whenever a stranger is met.

The procession gets tired occasionally, and sits down in the
dust of the road to rest. Sometimes it is accompanied by
dancers and other performers to amuse the crowd. I saw one
yesterday which had halted by the roadside, all the women ex-
cept the bride squatting down in patient resignation. In a
hollow square of spectators, in front, a male dancer was exhib-
iting his steps. Holding a wand perpendicularly before him
with both hands, he moved backwards and forwards, with a
mincing gait, exhibiting neither gi'aoe nor agility, but looking
around with the most conceited expression I ever saw on a
human face. Occasionally he would look down at his legs with
the most approving glance, as much as to sty, " I trust, God

IN THE BAZAAR.

lent

her

ride-

pro-

nder

and
Tcne-

oavisi-
boys,
} one,
out;
n the
mken

them
,, with
jcessa-
hmere
• head,
md on
t silk,
icians,
lUowed
n the
eneral
for it

being great, that you are taking particular notice of those legs ;
it seems to ino that they couldn't l>e imj)rove(l," The fellow
enjoyed his dancing if no one else did, and it was impossible to
get him to drsist and let the procession move on. At last the
cortege made a detour round the man, who seemed to be so popu-
lar with himself, and left him to enjoy his own performance.

Sometimes the expense of this zeffeh, or bridal procession, is
shared by two parties, and I have seen two brides walking
under the same c&,nopy, but going to difierent husbands. The
public is not excluded from an interest in these weddings. The
house of a bridegi'oom, near the Mooskee, was illuminated a
night or two before the wedding, colored lanterns were hung
across the street, and story-tellers were engaged to recite in
front of the house. On the night of the marriage there was a
crowd which gi-eatly enjoyed the indelicate songs and stories of
the hired performers. Late in the evening an old woman ap-
peared at a window and proclaimed that the husband was con-
tented with his wife.

An accompaniment of a bridal procession which we some-
times saw we could not understand. Before the procession
proper, walked another, preceded by a man carrying on his head
a high wooden cabinet, with four legs, the front covered with
pieces of looking-glass and bits of brass; behind him were musi-
cians and attendants, followed by a boy on horseback, dressed
richly in clothes too large for him and like a girl's, It turned
out to be a parade before circumcision, the friends of the lad
having taken advantage of the bridal ceremony of a neighbor to
make a display. The wooden cose was merely the sign of the
barber who walked in the procebsion, and was to perform the
operation.

" I suppose you are married 1" I ask Hadji, when the pro-
cession has gone by,

" Yes, sir, long time."

** And you have never had but one wife T

"Have one. He quite nuff for me."

" How old was she when you married her ?"

" Oh, I marry he, when he much girl 1 I tink he eleven,
maybe twelve, not more I tink."

Girls in Egypt aie marriageable at ten or eleven, and it ia
said that if not married before they are fourteen they have an,
5

i v» ' r*"'

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

excellent chance of being old maids. Precocious to mature,
they are quick to fall away and lose their beauty ; the laboring
classes especially are ugly and flabby before eighteen. The low
mental, not to say physical, condition of Egyptian women is no
doubt largely due to these early marriages. The girl is married
and is a mother before she has an opportunity to educate her-
self or to learn the duties of wife or mother, ignorant of how to
make a home pleasant and even of housekeeping, and when she
is utterly unfit to have the care and training of a child. Ignor-
ant and foolish, >xnd, as Mr. Lane says, passionate, women and
mothers can nev^er produce a great race. And the only reform
for Egypt that will give it new vitality and a place in the world
must begin with the women.

The Khedive, who either has foresight or listens to good ad-
vice, issued a firman some years ago forbidding the marriage
of girls under fifteen. It does not seem to be respected either
in city or country ; though I believe that it has some influence
in the city, and generally girls are not married so young in
Cairo as in the country. Y et I heard recently in this city of a
man of sixty who took a wife of twelve. As this was not his
first wife, it could not be said of him, as it is said of some gi*eat
geniuses, that he struck twelve the first time.

CHAPTER Yl.

MOSQUES AND TOMBS.

j^HAT we in Cairo like most to do, is to do nothing in
the charming winter weather — to postpone the regular
and necessary sight-seeing to that limbo to which the
Arabs relegate everything — bookra, that is, to-morrow. Why
not as well go to the Pyramids or to Heliopolis or to the tombs
of the Memlooks to--7iorrow ! It is to be the same fair weather ;
we never plan an excursion, with the proviso, " If it does not
rain." This calm certainty of a clear sky adds twenty-five per
cent, to the value of life.

And yet, there is the Sirocco ; that enervating, depressing
south wind, when all the sands of the hot desert rise up into
the air and envelope everything in grit and gloom. I have
been on the Citadel terrace when the city was only dimly out-
lined in th( thick air, and all the horizon and the sky were
veiled in dust as if b; a black Scotch mist. We once waited
three days after we had set a time to visit the Pyramids, for
the air to olear. The Sirocco is bad enough in the town, the
fine dust pe itrates the closed recesses of all apartments ; but
outside the c v it is unbearable. Indeed any wind raises the
sand disagree bly; and dust is the great plague of Egypt.
The streets of Cairo, except those that are sprinkled, are seldom
free from clouds of it. And it is an ancient dust. I suppose
the powdered dead of thousands of years are blowing about in
the air.

The desert makes itself apparent even in Cairo. Not only
is it in the air, but it lies in wait close to the walls and houses,
ready to enter at the gates, sifting in through every crevice.
Only by constant irrigation can it be driven back. As soon as
we pass beyond the compact city eastward, we enter the desert,

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

iji

unless \re follow the course of some refreshing canal. The
drive upon it in a favorite one on summer nights. I have
spoken of the desert as hot; but it is always cool at night ; and
it is the habit of foreigners who are detained in Cairo in the
summer to go every night to the desert to cool off.

The most conspicuous object in Cairo, from all points, is the
Citadel, built on a bold spur of the Mokattam range, and the
adjoining Mosque of Mohammed Ali in which that savage old
reformer is buried. The mosque is rather Turkish than Sara-
cenic, and its two slender minarets are much criticised. You
who have been in Constantinople are familiar with the like
slight and graceful forms in that city ; they certainly are not
so rich or elegant as many of the elaborately carved and more
robust minarets of Cairo which the genius of the old architects
reared in the sun-burst of Saracenic architecture ; but they are
very picturesque and effective in their position, and especially
against a poetic evening sky.

When Salah-e'-deen robbed the pyramids to build the Cita,-
del, he doubtless tLought he was erecting a fortification that
would for ever protect his city and be an enduring home for the
Sultans of Egypt. But Mohammed Ali made it untenable as
a fort by placing a commanding battery on the Mokattam ledge ;
and now the Citadel (by which I mean all the group of build-
ings) useless as a fort (except to overawe the city) and aban-
doned as a palace, is little -more than a ghost-walk of former
splendors. There are barracks in it ; recruits are drilling in its
squares ; the minister-of-war occupies some of its stately apart-
ments ; the American General Stone, the chief officer of the
Khedive's army, uses others; in some we find the primitive
presses and the bureaus of the engineers and the typographical
corps ; but vast halls and chambers of audience, and suites of
apartments of the harem, richly carved and gilded, are now
vacant and echo the footsteps of sentries and servitors. And
they have the shabby look of most Eastern architecture when
its first freshness is gone.

We sat in the room and on the pKtform where Mohammed
Ali sat when the slaughter of the Memlooks was going on ; he
sat motionless, so it is reported, and gave no other sign of nerv-
ousness than the twisting of a piece of paper in his hand&
And yet he must have heard the cries under his window, and,

MOSQUES AND TOMBS.

6<)

The
have

and
L the

a the
i the
re old
Sara-

You
3 like
e not

more
litects
ay are
jcially

1 Cita-
a that
for the
^ble as
ledge ;
build-
aban-
brmer
in its
apart-
lof the
litive
iphical
lites of
now
And
when

Immed

; he

nerv-

lands.

r, and,

of course, the shots of the soldiers on the walls who were exe-
cuting his orders. We looked down from the balcony into the
narrow, walled lane, with its closed gates, in which the five
hundred Memlooks were hemmed in and massacred. Think of
the nerve of the old Turk, sitting still without changing coun-
tenance while five hundred, or more, gallant swash-bucklers
were being shot in cool blood under his window ! Probably he
would not have been so impassive if he had seen one of the
devoted band escape by spurring his horse through a break in
the wail and take a fearful flying leap upon the rubbish below.

The world agrees to condemn this treacherous and ferocious
act of Mohammed Ali and, generally, I believe, to feel grateful
to him for it. Never was there a clan of men that needed ex-
terminating so much as the Memlooks. Nothing less would
have suited their peculiarities. They were merely a band of
robbers, black-maUers, and freebooters, a terror to Egypt.
Dislodged from actual power, they were still greatly to be
dreaded, and no ruler was safe who did not obey chem. The
term Memlook means " a white male slave," and is still so used.
The Memlooks, who originally were mostly Circassian white
slaves, climbed from the position of favorites to that of tyrants.
They established a long dynasty of sultans, and their tombs
yonder at the edge of the desert are among the most beautiful
specimens of the Saracenic architecture. Their sovereignty
was overthrown by Sultan Selim in 1517, but they remained a
powerful and aristocratic band which controlled governors, cor-
rupted even Oriental society by the introduction of monstrous
vices, and oppressed the people. I suppose that in the time of
the French invasion they may have been joined by bold adven-
turers of many nations. Egypt could have no security so long
as any of them remained. It was doubtless in bad taste for
Mohammed Ali to extend a friendly invitation to the Memlooks
to visit him, and then murder them when they were caught in
his trap ; he finally died insane, and perhaps the lunacy was
providentially on him at that time.

In the Citadel precincts is a hall occupied by the " parlia-
ment " of the Khedive, when it is in session ; a parliament
whose members are selected by the Viceroy from all over Egypt,
in order that he may have information of the state of the
country, but a body that has no power and certainly not so
much influence in the state as the harem has. But its very

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

^' I

RHsemblage is an innovation in the Orient, and it may lead in
time to infinite gab, to election briberies and multitudinous
legislation, the accompaniments of the highest civilization. We
may yet live to see a member of it rise to enquire into the
expenses of the Khedive's numerous family.

The great Mosque of Mohammed Ali is in the best repair and
is the least frequented of any in Cairo. Its vast, domed interior,
rich in materials and ambitious in design, is impressive, but
this, like all other great mosques, strikes the Western man as
empty. On the floor are beautiful rugs ; a tawdry chandelier
hangs in the centre, and the great spaces are strung with
lanternc. No one was performing ablution at the handsome
fountain in the marble-paved couii; ; only a single worshipper
was kneeling at prayer in all the edifice. But I heard a bird
singing sweetly in the airy height of the dome.

The view from the terrace of the mosque is the finest in
Egypt, not perhaps in extent, but certainly in variety and
objects of interest ; and if the atmosphere and the light are both
favorable, it is the most poetic. From it you command not
only the city and a long sweep of the Nile, with fields of living
green and dark lines of palms, but the ruins and pyramids of
slumberous old Memphis, and, amid the yellow sands and
backed by the desolate Libyan hills, the dreamy pyramids of
Geezeh. Wr are advised to get this view at sunset, because
then the light is soft and ail the vast landscape has color. This
is good advice so far as the city at our feet is concerned, with its
hundreds of minarets and its wide expanse of flat roofs, palm-
tops and open squares ; there is the best light then also on the
purple Mokattam hills ; and the tombs of the Memlooks, north
of the cemetery, with their fairy domes and exquisite minarets
and the encompassing grey desert, the whole bathed in violet
light, have a beauty that will linger with one who has once seen
them forever. But looking beyond the Nile, you have the sun
in your face. I should earnestly entreat the stranger to take
this view at sunrise. I never saw it myself at that hour, being
always otherwise engaged, but I am certain that the pyramids
and the Libyan desert would wake at early morning in a glow
of transcendant beauty.

We drive out the gate or Bab e' Nasr beyond the desolate
Moslem cemetery, to go to the tombs of the Cii-cassian Memlook
Sultans. We pass round and amid hills of rubbish, dirt, and

MOSQUES AND TOMBS.

seen
le sun
take
jeing
imids
glow

broken pottery, the dumpings of the city for centuries, and
travel a road so sandy that the horses can scarcely drag the
heavy carriage through it. Tae public horses of Cairo are sorry
beasts and only need a slight excuse for stoppi. g at any time.
There is nothing agreeable about the great Moslem cemetery ;
it is a field of sand-heaps, thickly dotted with little oven-shaped
stucco tombs. They may be pleasanter below ground ; for the
vault into which the body is put, without a coffin, is high
enough to permit its occupant to sit up, which he is obliged to
do, whether he is able to sit up or not, the first night ql his stay
there, in order to answer the questions of two angels who come
tQ examine him on his religious practices and views.

The Tombs of the Sultans, which are in the desert, are in
fact vast structures, — tombs and mosques united — and are built
of parti-colored stone. They are remarkable for the beautiful
and varied forms of their minarets and for their aerial domes ;
the latter are covered with the most wonderful arabesque carving
and tracing. They stand deserted, with the sand drifting about
them, and falling to rapid decay. In the interiors are still
traces of exquisite carving and color, but much of the ornament-
ation, being of stucco on rude wooden frames, only adds to the
appearance of decay. The decay of finery is never respectable.

It is not correct, however, to speak of these mosque-tombs as
deserted. Into all of them have crept families of the poor or of
the vicious. And the business of the occupants, who call them-
selves guardians, is to extract backsheesh from the visitor.
Spinning, knitting, baking, and all the simple household occu-
pations go on in the courte and in the gaunt rooms ; one tomb
is used as a grist-mill. The women and girls dwelling there go
unveiled ; they were tattooed slightly upon the chin and the
forehead, as most Egyptian women are ; some of the younger
were pretty, with regular features and handsome dark eyes.
Near the mosques are lanes of wretched homes, occupied by as
wretched people. The whole mortal neighborhood swarms
(life out of death) with children j they are as thick as jars at a
pottery factory ; they ai'e as numerous as the flies that live on
the rims of their eyes and noses ; they are as naked, most of
them, as when they were born. The distended condition of
their stomachs testifies that they have plenty to eat, and they
tumble about in the dirt, in the lull enjoyment of this delicious
climate. People can affoi*d to be poor when nature is their friend,

CHAPTER YII.

MOSLEM WORSHIP. — THE CALL TO PRAYER.

SHOULD like to go once to an interesting city where
there are no sights. That city could be enjoyed ; and
conscience — which never lei ves any human being in
peace until it has nagged him into a perfect condition morally,
and keeps punching him about frivolous little details of duty,
especially at the waking morning hour — would not come to
insert her thumb among the rosy lingers of the dawn.

Perhaps I do not make myself clear about conscience. Con-
science is a kind of gastric juice that gnaws upon the very coatings
of a person's moral nature, if it has no indigestible sin to feed
on. Of courfee I know thsA neither conscience nor gastric juice
has a thumb. And, to get out of these figures, all I wish to say
is, that in Cairo, when the traveller is aware of the glow of the
morning stealing into his room', as if the day were really opened
gently (not ripped and torn open as it is in our ow^n cold north)
by a rosy-fingered maiden, and an atmosphere of sweet leisure
prevails, then Conscience suggests remorselessly : " To-day you
must go to the pyramids," or, " You must take your pleasure
in a drive in the Shoobra road," or " You must explore dirty
Old Cairo and its Coptic churches," or " You must visit the
mosques, and see the Howling Derweeshes."

But for this Conscience, I think nothing would be so sweet as
the coming of an eastern morning. I fancy that the cool wind
stirring in the palms is from the pure desert. It may be that
these birds, so melodiously singing in the garden, are the small
green birds who eat the fruits and drink the waters of Paradise,
and in whose crops the souls of martyrs abide until Judgment.
As I lie quite still, I hear the call of a muezzin from a minaret

MOSLEM WORSHIP.

as
id
at
ill

ie,
it.
et

not far otf, the voice now full and clear and now faint, as he
walks aronnd the tower to send his entreaty over the dark roofs
of the city. I am not disturbed by this early call to the un-
converted, for this is not my religion. With the clamor of
morning church bells in Italy it is different ; for to one born in
New England, Conscience is in the bells.

Sometimes at midnight I am dimly conscious of the first call
to prayer, which begins solemnly.

" Prayer is better than sleep."

But the night calls are not obligatory, and I do not fully
wake. The calls during the night are long chants, that of the
daytime is much shorter. Mr. Lane renders it thus :

*' God is most great " (four times repeated). " I testify that
there is no deity but God " (twice). " I testify that Moham-
med is God's Apostle " (twice). " Come to prayer " (twice).
" Come to security " (twice). " God is most great " (twice).
" There Ls no deity but God."

The muezzin whom I hear when the first faint light appears
in the ease, has a most sonorous and sweet tenor voice, and his
chant is exceedingly melodious. In the perfect hush of that
hour his voice fills all the air, and might well be mistaken for
a sweet entreaty out of heaven. This call is a long one, and
is in fact a confession and proclamation as well as a call to
prayer. It begins as follows :

" [I extol] the perfection of God, the Existing forever and
ever " (three times) : " the perfection of God, the Desired, the
Existing, the Single, the Supreme : the perfection of God, the
One, the Sole : the perfection of Him who taketh to Himself,
in his great dominion, neither female companion nor male part-
ner, nor any like unto Him, nor any that is disobedient, nor
any deputy, nor any equal, nor any offspring. His perfection
[be extolled] : and exalted be His name. He is a Deity who
knew what hath been before it was, and called into existence
what hath been : and he is now existing, as He was [at the
first]. His perfection [be extolled] : and exalted be His
name."

And it ends : " O God, bless and save and still beatify the
beatified Prophet, our lord Mohammed. And may God,
whose name be blessed and exalted, be well pleased with thee,
our lord El-Hasaan, and with thee, O our lord El-Hoseyn,

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

and with thee, O Aboo-Farrag, O Sheykli of the Aral).s, and
with all the favorites [* the weleeB '] of God. Amen."

The mosques of Cairo are more numerous than the churches
in Rome ; there are about four hundred, many of them in
ruins, but nearly all in daily use. The old ones are tlie more
interesting architecturally, but all have a certain attraction.
They are always open, they are cool quiet retreats out of the
glare of the sun and the noise of the street; they are democratic
and as hospitable to the beggar in rags as to the pasha in silk ;
they offer water for the dusty feet of the pilgrim and a clean
mat on which to kneel ; and in their hushed walks, with no
image to distract the mind and no ritual to rely on, the devout
worshipper may feel the presence of the Unseen. At all hours
you will see men praying there or reading the Koran, uncon-
scious of any observers. Women I have seen in there
occasionally, but rarely, at prayer ; still it is not uncommon to
see a group of poor women resting in a quiet corner, perhaps
sewing or talking in low voices. Tht itward steps and open
courts are refuges for the poor, the friendless, the lazy, and the
tired. Especially the old and decaying mosques, do th» poor
frequent. There, about the fountains, the cJiildren play, and
under the stately colonnades the men sleep and the women
knit and sew. These houses of God are for the weary as v/cil
as for the pious or- the repentant.

The mosques are all much alike. We enter by a few or by
a flight of steps from the stre'et into a large paved court, open
to the sky, and surrounded by colonnades. There is a fountain
in the centre, a round or octagonal structure of carved stone,
usually with a fanciful wooden roof; from lancets in the
exterior, water runs into a sunounding stone basin about which
the worshippers crouch to perform the ablutions before prayer.
At one side of the court is the entrance to the mosque, covered
by a curtain. Pushing this aside you are in a spacious room
lighted from above, perhaps with a dome, the roof supported by
columns rising to elegant arches. You will notice also the
»)eculiar Arabic bracketing- work, called by architects " penden-
tive," fitting the angles and the transitions from the corners
below to the dome. In decaying mosques, where the plaster
has fallen, revealing the round stick frame-work of this bracket-
ing, the perishable character of Saracenic ornament is apparent.

I I

MOSLEM WORSHIP.

the

The walls are plain, with the exception (>f gilded texts from
the Koran. Above, on strings extending acroRB the room, ar**
little lamps, and very oft< i hundreds of ofltrich eggs are
8U8j)ended. These eggs are almobt always seen in Coptic and
often in Greek churclies. What they signity I do not know,
unless the ostrich, which can digest old iron, is a symbol of the
credulity that can swallow any tradition. Perhaps her »'gg8
represent the great " cosmic egg " which modem philosophers
are trying to teach (if we may be allowed the t'xpreasion) their
grandmothers to suck.

The stone pavement is covered with matting and perhaps
with costly rugs from Persia, Smyrna, and Tunis. The end to-
wards Mecca is raised a foot or so ; in it is the prayer niche,
towards which all worshippers turn, and near that is the high
pulpit with its narrow steps in front ; a pulpit of marble carved,
or of wood cut in bewildering arabesque, and inlaid with pearl.

The oldest mosque in Cairo is Ahmed ebn e' Tooloon, built in
879 A.D., and on the spot where, according to a tradition (of
how liigh authority I do not know), Abi-aham was prevented
from offering up his son by the apj)earanoe of a ram. The
modem name of this hill is, indeed, Kalat-el-Kebsh, the Citadel
of the Bam. I suppose the tradition is as v/cU based as is the
belief of Moslems that it was Ishmael and not Isaac whose life
was spared. The centre of this mosque is an open court,
surrounded by rows of fine columns, five deep on the east side ;
and what gives it great interest is the fact that the columns all
support pointed arches, and exceedingly graceful ones, with a
slight curve of the horse-shoe at the base. These arches were
constructed about three centuries before the introduction of the
pointed arch into Europe ; their adoption in Europe was pro-
bably one of the results of the cmsades. •

In this same court I raw an old nebk tree, which grows on
the spot where the ark of Noah is said to have rested after its
voyage. This goes to show, if it goes to show anything, that
the Flood was " general " enough to reach Egypt.

The mosque of Sultan Hassan, notwithstanding^ its ruined
and shabby condition, is the finest specimen of pure Arabic
archit>*H5ture in the city ; and its lofty and ornamented porch is,
I think, as fine as anything of its kind in the world. One may
probably spend hours in the study of its exquisite details. I

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

often found my«elf in front of it, wondering at the poetic
invention and sonsitivenoas to the beautLful in form, which
enabled the builderH to reach the same etfticts that their Gothic
succeasora only produced by the aid of images and auggestions
drawn from every department of nature.

We ascend the high steps, pass through some dilapidated
parts of the building, which are inhabited, asid come to the
threshold. Here the Moslem removes his shoes, or street-
slippers, and carries them in his hand. Over this sill we may
not step, shod as we are. An attendant is ready, however, with
big slippers which go on over our shoes. Eager, bright little
boys and girls put them on for us, and then attend us in the
mosque, keeping a close watch that the slipj)ers are not shuffled
off. When one does get off, leaving the unholy shoe to touch
the gi'ound, they affect a sort of horror and readjust it with a
laugh. Even the children are beginning to feel the general
relaxation of bigotry. To-day the heels of my shoes actually
touch the floor at every step, a transgi-esaion which the little
girl who is leading me by the hand points out with a sly shake
of the head. The attention of this pretty little girl looks like
affection, but I know by sad experience that it means " back-
sheesh." It is depressing to think that her natural, sweet,
coquettish ways mean only that. She is fierce if any other girl
seeks to do me the least favor, and will not permit my own
devotion to her to wander.

The mosque of Sultan Hassan was built in the fourteenth
century, and differs from most others. Its great, open court
has a square recess on each side, over which is a noble arch ;
the east one is very spacious, and is the ^ place of prayer. Be-
hind this in an attached building, is the tomb of Hassan ; lights
are always burning over it, and on it lies a large copy of the
Koran.

When we enter, there are only a few at their devotions,
though there are several groups enjoying the serenity of the
court ; picturesque groups, all color and rags ! In a far comer
an old man is saying his prayers and near him a negro, perhaps
a slave, also prostrates himself. At the fountain are three or
four men preparing for devotion ; and indeed the prayers begin
with the washing. The ablution is not a mere form with these
soiled laborers — though it does seem a hopeless task for men of

MOSLEM WORSHIP.

the color of tli'*se to Hcrub thomHelvoH. They hatho the hfta<i,
neck, Ix'ikkit, Lan k and arms, Ic^gH and feet ; in fact, they take
what might be called a fair bath in any other country. In our
sight this is ainiply a wholesome " wash ; " to them it is both
cleanliness and religion, as we know, for Mr. Lane has taught
us what that brown man in the blue gown is saying. It may
help us to understand his acts if we transcribe a few of his
ejaculations^

When he washes his face, he says : — " O God whiten my face
with th) light, on the day when thou shalt whiten the faces of
thv favorites ; and do not blacken my face on the day when
thou shalt blacken the faces of thine enemies." Washing his
right arm, he entreats : — " O God, give me my book in my right
hand ; and reckon with me with an easy reckoning." Passing
his wetted hand over his head under his raised turban, he says :
" O God, cover me with thy mercy, and pour down thy blessing
upon me ; and shade me under the shadow of thy canopy, on
the day when there shall be no shade but its shade."

One of the most striking entreaties is the prayer ui)on wash-
ing the right foot : — " O God make firm my feet upon the Sirat,
on the day when feet shall slip upon it." " Es Sirdt " is the
bridge, which extends over the midst of Hell, finer than a hair
and sharper than the edge of a sword, over which all must pass,
and from which the wicked shall fall into Hell.

In these mosques order and stillness always reign, and the
devotions are conducted with the utmost propriety, whether
there are single worshippers, or whether the mosque is filled
with lines of gowned and turbaned figures prostrating them-
selves and bowing with one consent. But, much stress as the
Moslems lay upon prayer, they say that they do not expect to
reach Paradise by that, or by any merit of their own, but only
by faith and forgiveness. This is expressed frequently both in
prayers and in the sermons on Friday. A sermon by an Imam
of a Cairo mosque contains these implorings : — " O God ! unloose
the captivity of the captives, and annul the debts of the debtors ;
and make this town to be safe and secure, and blessed with
wealth and plenty, and all the towns of the Moslems, O Lord
of the beings of the whole earth. And decree safety and health
to us and to all travellers, and pilgrims, and warriors, and
wanderers, upon thy earth, and upon thy sea, such as are

■^.

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

Moslems, O Lord of the h -ings of the whole world. Tjord,
we have acted unjustly towards our own souls, and if thou do
not forgive us and be merciful iinto us, wf shall surely be of
those who perish. I beg tf God, the Great, that he may for-
give me and you, and all the people of Mohammed, the servants
of God."

! E

! t

CHAPTER YIII.

THE PYRAMIDS.

|HE ancient Egyptians o e Upper Country excavated
sepulchre'^ for their gr( ". oead in the solid rocks of the
mountain; the dwellers in the lower country built a
mountain of stone in which to hide the royal mummy. In the
necropolis at Thebes there are the vast rock-tombs of the kings;
at Sakkara and Greezeh stand the pyramids. On the upper
Nile isolated rocks and mountains cut the sky in pyramidal
forms ; on the lowar Nile the mountain ranges run level along
the horizon, and the constructed pyramids relieve the horizontal
lines which are otherwise unbroken except by the s^-uiraa.

The rock-tombs were walled up and their entrances concealed
as much as possible, by a natural arrangement of masses of
rock ; the pyramids were completely encased and the openings
perfectly marked. Fako passages leading through gorgeously
carved and decorated halls and chambers to an empty pit or
a blind wall, were hewn in the rock-tombs, simply to mislead
the violator of the repose of the dead as to tho position of the
mummy. The entrance to the pyramids is placed away from
the centre, and misleading passages run from it, conducting the
explorer away from the royal sarcophagus. Rock-tomb and
pyramid were for the same purpose, the eternal security of the
mummy.

That purpose has failed ; the burial place was on too grand a
scale, its contents were too tempting. There is no security for
any one after death out obscui'ity ; to preserve one's body is to
lose it. The bones must be consumed if they would be safe, or
else the owner of them must be a patriot and gain a fc gotten
grave. There is nothing that men so enjoy as digging up tlie

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

I ^

bones of theJr ancestors. It i.- doubtful if even the Egyptian
plunderers luft long imdisturbed the great tombs whioh con-
tained so much treasure ; and certainly the Persians, the
Greeks, the Komans, the Saracens, left comparatively little for
the scientific grave-robbers of our excellent age. They did,
however, leave the tombs, the sarcophagi, most of the sculptures,
and a fair share of the preserved dead.

But time made a pretty clean sweep of the mummy and
nearly all his personal and real property. Ihe best sculptures
of his tomb might legally be considered in the nature of im-
pro\ ements attaching themselves to the realty, but our scientists
have hacked them off and carried them away as if they were
personal estate. We call the Arabs thieves and ghouls who
prowl in the tombs in search of valuables. But motive is
everything ; digging up the dead and taking hir property,
tomb and all, in the name of learning and investigation, is
respectable and commendable. It comes to the same thing for
the mummy, however, this being turned c it of house and home
in his old age. The deed has its comic aspect, and it seems to
me that if a mummy has any humor left in his dried body, he
must smile to see what a ludicrous failure were his costly efforts
•it concealment and repose. For luere is a point where frustra-
tion of plans may be so sweeping as to be amusing ; just as the
mummy himself is so ghastly that his aspect is almost funry.

Nothing more impresses the mind with the antiquity of
Egypt than its vast cemeteries, into whiuh the harvests of the
dead have been gathered for so many thousands of years. Of
old Memphis, indeed, nothing remains except its necropolis,
whose monuments have outlasted the pulaces and temples that
were the wonder of the world. The magnificence of the city
can be estimated by the extent of its burial-ground.

On the west side of the Nile, opposite Cairo, and extending
south along the edge of the desert, is a nearly continuous
necropolis for fifteen miles. It is marked at intervals by pyra-
mids. At Geezeh are three large and several small ones ; at
Abooseer are four ; at Sakkarc. are eleven ; at Dashoor are
four. These all belonged to the necropolis of Memphis. At
Geezeh is the largest, that of Cheops or Shoofoo, the third king
of the fourth dynasty, reigning at Memphis about 4235 b. c,
according to the chronology of Mariette Bey, which every new

yptian
h con-
is, the
btle for
57 did,
ptures,

ay and
Iptures
} of im-
ientists
jy were
Ills who
ative is
poperty,
ition, is
ling for
id home
eems to
ody, he
y efforts
frustra-
t as the
iinry.
uity of
of the

VH. Of

ropolis,
es that
he city

THE PYRAMIDS.

diHcovery helj>H to estiihlish as the most probably correct. This
pyramid was about four hinidred and eighty leet high, and the
length of a side of its base was about seven hundred and sixty-
four feet ; it is now four hundred and fifty feet high and its
base line is seven hundred and foi-ty-six feet. It is big enough
yet for any practical purpose. The old pyramid pi Sakkara is
believed to have been built by Ouenephes, the fourth king of
the first dynasty, and to be the oldest monument in the world.
Like the mounds of the Chaldeans, it is built in degiees or
stages, of which there are five. Degraded now and buried at
the base in its own rubbish, it rises only about one hundred and
ninety feet above the ground.

It is a drive of two hours from Cairo to the Pyramid s of
Geezeh, over a very good road ; and we are advised to go by
carriage. Hadji is on the seat with the driver, keeping his
Mingle twinkling eye active in the service of the hawadji. The
driver is a polished Nubian, with a white turban and a white
gown ; feet and legs go bare. You wouldn't call it a stylish
turnout for the Bois, but it w^oald be all right if we had a gor-
geous sais to attract attention from ourselves.

We drive through the wide and dusty streets of the new quar-
ter. The barrack-like palace, on the left of a broad place, is the
one in which the Khedive is staying just now, though he may
be in another one to-night. The streets are the same animated
theatre-like scenes of vivid color and picturesque costume and
indolent waiting on Providence to which we thought we s^ auld
never become accustomed, but which are already beginning to
lose their novelty. The fellaheen are coming in to market,
trudging along behind donkeys and camels loaded with vege-
tables or freshly cut grass and beans for fodder. Squads of
soldiers in white uniform pass; bugle notes are heard from
Kasr e' Neel, 0. barrack of troops on the river. Here, as in
Europe, the great business most seriously pursued is the dril-
ling of men to stand straight, handle arms, roll their eyes,
march with a thousand legs moving as one, and shoot on sight
other human beings who have learned the same tricks. God
help us, it is a pitiful thing for civilized people.

The banks of the Nile here above Boolak are high and steep.
We cross the river on a fine bridge of iron, and drive over th«
level jplain, opposite, on a raised and winding embankment.
6

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

i ri

<, hundred feet
fitting the stain-
They master the

This is phmted on each side with lebbekh and sycamore trees.
Part of the way the trees are large and the sh:uh) .•ini])h^ ; the
roots going down into moist ground. Much of the way the
trees are small and kept alive by constant watering. On the
right, by an noble avenue, are approached the gardens and the
palace of Gezeereh. We pass by the new summer palace of
Geezeh. Other large ones are in process of construction.
If the viceroy is measured for a new suit of clothes as often as
he orders a new palace, his tailors must be kept busy. Through
the trees we see green fields, intersected with ditches, wheat,
barley, and beans, the latter broad-sown and growing two to
three feet high ; here and there are lines of palms, clumps of
acacias ; peasants are at work or asleep in the shade ; there are
trains of camels, and men ploughing with cows or bufialoes.
Leaving the squalid huts that are the remains of once beautiful
Geezeh, the embankment strides straight across the level
country.

And there before us, on a rocky platfr*'
higher that the meadows, are the pyramiu ,
less blue of the sky with their sharp lines,
eye when we are an hour away, and as we approach they seem
to recede, neither growing larger nor smaller, but simply with-
drawing with a grand reserve.

I suppose there are more "emotions" afloat about the j^yra-
mids than concerning any other artificial objects. There are
enough. It becomes constantly more and more difficult for the
ordinary traveller to rise to the height of these accumulated
emotions, and it is entirely impossible to say how much the ex-
citement one experiences on drawing near them results from
reading and association, and how much is due to these simple
forms in such de«olate surroundings. But there they stand,
enduring standards, and every visitor seems inclined to measure
his own height by their vastness, in telling what impression
they produce upon him. They have been treated sentiment-
ally ofT-handedly, mathematically, solemnly, historically, hu-
morously. They yield to no sort of treatment. They are noth-
ing but piles of stone, and shabby piles at that, and they stand
there to astonish people. Mr. Bayatd Taylor is en**" ■ 'y "^i-^^lbt
when he says that the pyramids ai'e .ind will rensvi < )'oebteoj;e(.
and unapproachably impressive, however modern liii? )i\i.j 4iwQf
about them, and though a city should creey bout tiu "^ m ■•<».

THE PYRAMIDS.

trees.
3 ; the
ly the
)n the
id the
[ace of
action,
ften as
hrough
wheat,
two to
mps of
lere are
iflfaloes.
eautiful
e level

red feet
le stam-
per the
ey seem
ly with-

le lyra-
lere are
for the
lulated
the ex-
Its from
simple
stand,
leasure
)ression
Itiment-

fiy, ^^-

[•e noth-

|y stand

-5 "flit

|.y mxpr

Perhaps they do not appear so gigantic when the visitor is
close to them as he tliought they would from their mass at a
distance. But if he stands at the hase of the great pyramid,
and casts his eye along the steps of its enormous side and up
the dizzy hight where the summit seems to pierce the solid blue,
he will not complain of want of size. And if he walks around
one, and walks from one to another, wading in the loose sand
and under a midday suu, his respect for the pyramids will in-
crease every moment.

Long before we reach the ascent of the platform we are mej;
by Arab boys and men, sellers of antiquities, and most persist-
ent beggars. The antiquities are images of all sorts, of gods,
beasts, and birds, in pottery or in bronze, articles from tombs,
bits of mummy-cloth, beads and scaraoaei, and Roman copper
coins ; all of them at least five thousand years old in appear-
ance.

Our carriage is stuck in the sand, and we walk a quarter of
a mile up the platform, attended by a rabble of coaxing, im-
ploring, importunate, half-clad Bedaween. "Look a here, you
take dis ; dis ver much old, he from mummy ; see here, I get
him in tomb ; one shillin ; in Cairo you get him one pound ;
ver sheap. You no like 1 No antec ka, no money. How
much?"

" One penny."

"Ah," ironically, "ket'-ther khayrak (much obliged). You
take him sixpence. Howadji, say, me guide, you want go top
pyramid, go inside, go Sphinkee, allee tomba?"

Surrounded by an increasing swarm of guides and antiquity-
hawkers, and beset with offers, entreaties, and opportunities,
we come face to face with the gi-eat pyramid. The ground in
iront of it is piled high with its debris. UjK)n these rocks, in
picturesque attitudes, some in the shade and some in the sun,
others of the tribe are waiting the arrival of pyramid climbers;
in the intense light their cotton garments and turbans are like
wl.ite paint, brilliant in the sun, ashy in the shadow. All the
shadows are sharp and deep. A dark man leaning on his spear
at the corner of the pyramid makes a picture. At a kiosk near
by carriages are standing and visitors are taking their lunch.
But men, carriages, kiosk, are dwarfed in this great pre^sence.
It is, as I said, a shabby pile of stone, and its beauty is only

!>;

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

that of mathematical angles; but then it Ls so big, it casts such
a shadow ; we all beside it are like the animated lines and dots
which represent human beings in the etchings of Callot.

To be rid of importunities we send for the sheykh of the
pyramid tribe. The Bedaween living here have a sort of
ownership of these monuments, and very good property they
are. The tribe suppoi-ts itself mainly by tolls levied upon visi-
tors. The sheykh assigns guides and climbers, and receives the
pay for their services. This money is divided among the
families ; but what individuals get as backsheesh or by the sale
of antiquities, they keep. They live near by, in huts scarcely
distinguishable from the rocks, many of them in vacant tombs,
and some have shanties on the bordei*s of the green land. Most
of them have the appearance of wretched poverty, and villain-
ous faces abound. But handsome, intelligent faces and finely
developed forms are rot ra^o, either

The Sheykh, venerable as Jacob, respectable as a New Eng-
land deacon, suave and polite as he traditionally should be,
wears a scarf of camel's hair and a brigiit yellow and black
kuffia, put on like a hood, fastened about the head by a cord
and falling over the shoulders. He apportioned his guides to
take us up the pyramid and to accompany us inside. I had
already sent for a guide who had been recommended to me in
the city, and I found Ali Gobree the frank, manly, intelligent,
quiet man I had expected, handsome also, and honesty and
sincerity beaming from his countenance. How well-bred he
was, and how well he spoke English. Two other men were
given me ; for the established order is that two shall pull and
one shall push the visitor up. And it is easier to submit to the
regulation than to attempt to go alone and be followed by an
importunate crowd.

I am aware that every one who writes of the pyramids is ex-
pected to make a scene of the ascent, but if I wei'e to romance
I would rather do it in a fresher field. The fact is that the
ascent is not difficult, unless the person is very weak in the
legs or attempts to carry in front of himself a preposterous
stomach. Tiiere is no difficulty in going alone; occasionally
the climber encounters a step from three to four feet hi'^h, bat
he can always flank it. Of courfie it is tire«om«^ to go up-staira,
and the great pyramid needs an " elevator" ; but a person may

THE PYRAMIDS.

H such
J dots

of the
lort of
r they
•n visi-
ves the
ig the
he sale
carcoly
tombs,
Most
villain-
t finely

w Eng-

iild be,

I black

a cord

ides to

I had
me in
ligent,
>y and
Ired he

were

II and
to the
by an

is ex-
bmance
lat the

in the
tterous
[onally
Ih, but
[stairs,

III may

leisurely zig-zag up the side without great fatigue. We went
straight up at one corner ; the guides insisting on taking me by
the hand ; the boosting Arab who came behind earned his
money by grunting every time we reached a high step, but he
didn't lift a pound.

We stopped frequently to look down and to measure with the
eye the mass on the surface of which we were like fties. When
we were a third of the way up, and turned from the edge to
the middle, the height to be climbed seemed as great as when
we started, 1 should think that a giddy person might have
unpleasant sensations in looking back along the corner and
seeing no resting-place down the sharp edges of the steps short
of the bottom, if he should fall. We measure our ascent by
the diminishing size of the people below, and by the widening
of the prospect. The guides are perfectly civil, they do not
threaten to throw us off, nor do they oven mention backsheesh.
Stopping to pick out shells from the nummulitic limestone
blocks or to try our glasses on some distant object, we come
easily to the summit in a quarter of an hour.

The top, thirty feet square, is strewn with big blocks of
stone and has a flag-staff. Here ambitious people Bometiiii««
breakfast. Arabs are already here with koollehs of water and
antiquities, W}>en the whole party arrives the guides set u[> a
perfunctory cheer; but the attempt to give an air of achieve-
ment to our climbing performance and to make it appear that
we are the first who have f»ver accomplished the feat, is a
failure. We sit down upon the blocks and look over l-gypt, JiS
if we were used to this sort of thing at home.

All that is characteristic of Egypt is in sight ; to the west,
the Libyan hills and the Umitless stretch of yellow desert sand ;
to the p n-th, desert also and the ruined pyramid of x^boorojUh ;
to the .uuth, thiit long necroj* lis of th«* desert marked by the
pyramids of Aboose6r, Hakkarah, and Dashiwr ; on the east,
the Nile and its broad meadows, widenii^ into the tlim Delta
northward, the white line ol (Wro under the Mokattam hillH,
and the grey desert beyond. Kgypt is a ribbon of green
betw^een two deserts. Canals and Hues of tmm h(i ipo tlu* grecm
of the foregrcHind ; white sails flicker H«Mithwai'd along the
river, wnnging their way to Nubia ; tho citach)! ami iLu uuiwpiM
shine in tibe mai.

, t

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

An Arab offers to run down the side of this pyramid, climb
the second one, the top of which is still covered with the
original casing, and return in a certain incredible number of
minutes. We decline, because we don't like to have a half-
clad Arab thrust his antics between us and the contemplation
of dead yet mighty Egypt. We regret our refusal afterwards,
for there is nothing people like to read about so much as facta
of this sort. Humanity is more interesting than stones. I am
convinced that if Martha Rugg had fallen off the pyramid in-
stead of the rock at Niagara Falls, people would have looked at
the spot where she fell and up at the stairs she came bobbing
down with more interest than at the pyramid itself Never-
theless, this Arab and another did, while we were there, climb
the second pyramid like a monkey ; he looked only a black
speck on its side.

That accidents sometimes happen on the pyramids, I gather
from the conversation of Hadji, who is full of both information
and philosophy to-day.

" Sometimie man, he fool, he go up. Man say, ' go this way,'
Fool, he say, 'let me lone.' Umbrella he to(;k him, threw him
off; he dead in hundred pieces."

As to the selling of scarabaei to travellers, Hadji inclines to
the side of the poor : — " Good one, handsome one, — one pound.
Not good for much — but what to do 1 Gentleman he want it ;
man he want the money."

For Murray's Guide-Book he has not more respect than
guides usually have who have acted as intei'preters in t!ie col-
h)ction of information for it. For " interptet" Hadji always
says " spell.''

" Wh«in I|m» Murray (tome \w\v, I spell it to the man, the
man to Murray and him put it down. He don't know any-
tliliig l»nfurn. He told me, ^vhat is this 1 1 told liifn what it
Ifl. Souietliing," with a knowing nod, " be new af</or Murray.
Look heie, Murray very old now."

Hadji understands why the mmi of living hnn gone ;/[» so
nnicli In lOgypt. " ffe was voi'V sheap , ikiw vf^ry different,
dearer — -because plenty people. 1 build a houHe, ftuothei people
build a house, and another }>eo})lti he build a houHt^ Plenty
men to work, make it dear," I have never seen Hadji's dwel-
ling, but it is probably of the style of those that he calls —

THE PYRAMIDS.

|//f) SO

(orent,

)eople

*lenty

dwel-

lalls —

when in the street we ask liim wliat a specially shah>by miid-
wall with a ricketty tloor in it is — *' a brivate house."

About the Great Pyramid haa long waged an archfeological
war. Years have been spent in fjtudying it, measuring it in-
side and outside, drilling holes into it, speculating wliy this
stone is in one position and that in another, and constructing
theories about the purpose for which it was built. Books have
been written on it, diagi'ams of all its chambei*s and passages,
with accurate measurements of every stone in them, are i)rinted.
If I had t!ontrol of a restless genius who was dangerous to the
peace of society, I would set him at the Great Pyramid, certain
that he would have occupation for a lifetime aiul never come
to any useful result. The interior has peculiarities, which dis-
tinguish it from all other pyramids ; and many think that it
was not intended for a sepulchre mainly ; but that it was
erected for astronomical purposes, or as a witness to the true
north, east, south, and west, or to serve as a .standard of mea-
sure ; not only has the passage which descends obliquely three
hundred and twenty feet from the opening into the bed-rock,
and permits a view of the sky from that depth, some connection
with the observation of Sirius and the fixing of the Sothic year;
not only is the porphyry sarcophagus that is in the King's
Chamber, secure from fluctuations of temperature, a fixed
standard of measure ; but the positions of various stones in the
passages (stones which ceHainly are stumb'-ng-bloeks to <fvery
body who begins to think wh> \\w), aie there) are full of a
mystic and uvea iellgioua signification. It is most restful,
however, to the mind to look upon this pyramid as a toiiili, and
that it was a Htv^mlchre like all the others is the opinion of most
scholars.

Whatever is wiis, it is a most unpleasant place to go into.
But we wanted one idea of Cimmtuiau darkness, and the sei)sa-
tion of being buried alive, and we didn't like to tell a lie when
asked if \no had been in, and therefore we went. Von will /jot
understand where we went without a diagram, and you never
will have any ide.i of it until you go. We, with a gui<le for
each pei-son, light candles, and sliih) uud stumble down thu in
clino ; we ciawl up tin incline ; we shuflle along a level passage
that seems inturminable, backs and knees bent double till both
ai*e apparently broken, and the torture of the position is almost

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

unlxMirable ; v/c get up the (rreat Gallery, a passage over a
liuiuUefl and lifty feet long, twenty-eight high, and seven
broad, and about as easy to ascend as a logging-shiice, crawl
ii?idor three or four portcullises, and emerge, dripping with
j)erspiration and covered with dust, into the king's chand)er, a
I'oom thirty-four feet long, seventeen broad, and nineteen high.
It is built of magnificent blocks of syenite, polished and fitted
to'^'other perfectly, and contains the lidlesM sarcophagus.

ff it were anywhere else and decently lighted, it would be a
stylish a])artinent ; but with a dozen torches and candles smok-
ing in it and heatikg it, a lot of i)erspiring Arabs shouting and
kicking up a dust, and t)ie feeling tliat the weight of the super-
incumbent mass wfXB upon us, it seemed to me (oo small and
confined even for a tomb. The Arabs thought they ought to
cheer here lui they did on top ; we had difficulty in driving them
all out and sending the candles with them, in order that we
might enjoy the quiet and blackness of this retired situation.
i suppose we had for once absolute night, a room full of the
original Night, brother of Chaos, night bottled up for four or
five thousand years, tlie very night in which old Cheops lay in
a fiightful isolation, with all the poi-tcullises down and the
passages sealed with massive stones.

Out of this blackness the eye even by long waiting couldn't
get a ray ; a cat's eye would be invisible in it. Some scholars
think that Cheops never occupied this sarcophagus. I oan
understand his feeling if he eVer came in here alive. I think
lie may have gone away and put up " to let" on the door.

We scrambled about a good deal in this mountain, visited the
so-called Queen's Chamber, entered by another passage, below
the King's, lost all sense of time and of direction, and came out,
glad to have seen the wonderful interior, but welcoming the
burst of wliite light and the pure air, as if we were being born
again. To remain long in that gulf of mortality is to experi-
ence something of the mystery of death.

Ali Gobree had no antiquities to press upon us, but he could
show us some choice things in his house, if we would go tliere.
Besides, his house would be a cool place in which to eat our
lunch. We walked thither, a quarter of a mile down t]*o sand
slope on the edge of the terrace. We had been wondering
where tho Sphinx was, exj)ecting it to be as conspi< uous almost

THE PYRAMIDS.

•

the
)rii
Isri-

lild

Ire.
mr

as the pyramids. Suddenly, turning a sand-hill, we came upon
it, the rude lion's body struggling out of the sand, the human
head lifted up in that stiff majesty which we all know.

So little of tilt' bo<ly is now visible, and the features are so
much damag* d, that it is somewhat difficult to imajj^ine what
impression this monstrous union of b(!ast and man once pro-
ducfnl, when all the huge proportions stood r(wealed, and color
gave a startling life-likeness to t hat giant face. It was cut from
the rock of the platform ; its back was patchetl with pieces of
sandstone to make the cmitour ; it head was solid. Ic was ap-
proache<l by flights of stairs descending, and on the paved plat-
form where it stood were two small temples ; between its paws
was a sort of sanctuary, with an altar. Now, only the back,
head and neck are above the drifting sand. Traces of the
double crown of Upper and Lower Egypt, which crowned the
head, are seen on the forehead, but the crown has gone. The
kingly beard that hung from the chin has been chipped away.
The vast wig — the false mass of h.iir that encinul)ered the
shaven heads of the Egyptians, living or dead — still stands out
on either side of the head, and adds a cei-tain dignity. In spite
of the broken condition of the face, with the nose gone, it has
not lost its character. There are the hea^ y eyebrows, the pro-
minent cheek-bones, the full lips, the poetic chin, ihf. blurred
but on-looking eyes. I think the first feeling of the visitor is,
that the face is marred beyond recognition, but the sweep of
the majestic lines soon becomes apparent ; it is not difficult to
believe that there is a smile on the sweet mouth, and the stony
stnre of the eyes, once caught, will never be forgotten.

The Sphinx, grossly symbolizing the union of physical and
intellectual force, and hinting at one of those recondite myste-
ries which we still like to believe existed in the twilight of
mankind, was called Hor-em-Khoo (" the Sun in his resting-
place"), and had divine honors paid to it as a deity.

This figure, whatever its purpose, is older than the Pyramid
c^ Cheops, It has sat facing the east, on the edge of this ter-
ra> of tombs, expecting the break of day, since a i)eriod that
is rost in the dimness of tradition. All the achievements of
the race, of which we know anything, have been enacted since
that figure was carved. It luis seen, if its stony eyes could see,
all the procession of history file before it. Viewed now at a

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WEBSTER, NY. 14580

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MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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little distance or with evening sliadows on it, its features live
again, and it has the calmness, the simple majesty, that belong
to high art. Old writers say that the face was once sweet and
beautiful. How long had that unknown civilization lasted be-
fore it produced this art ?

Why should the Sphinx face the rising sun 1 Why does it
stand in a necropolis Ifke a sleepy warden of the dead who sleep 1
Was it indeed the guardian of those many dead, the mighty
who slept in pyramids, in rock-hewn tombs, in pits, their bodies
ready for any pilgrimage ; and does it look to the east expect-
ing the resurrection ?

Not far from the Sphinx is a marvellous temple of syenite,
which the sand almost buries ; in a well in one of its chambers
was found the splendid red-granite statue of Chephren, the
builder cf the second pyramid, a piece of art •which succeeding
ages did not excel. All about the rock plateau are tombs, and
in some of them are beautiful sculptures, upon which the color-
ing is fresh. The scenes depicted are of common life, the
occupations and diversions of the people, and are without any
religious signification. The admirable sculptures represent no
gods and no funeral mysteries ; when they were cut the Egyp-
tian theology was evidently not constructed.

The residence of our guide is a tomb, two dry chambers in
the rock, the entrance closed by a wooden door. The rooms
are large ei^ough for tables and chairs ; upon the benches where
the mummies have lain, are piled antique fragments of all sorts,
set off by a grinning skull or a thigh-bone ; the floor is covered
with fine yellow sand. I don't know how it may have seemed
to its first occupant, but we found it an excellent luncheon
place, and we could sleep there calmly and securely, when the
door was shut against the jackals — tiiougli 1 believe it ha&
never been objected to a tomb that one couldn't sleej) in it.
While we sip our cofiee Ali brings forth his antique images
and scarabaei. These are all genuine, for Ali has certificates
from most of the well-known Egyptologists as to his honesty
and knowledge of antiquities. We are looking for genuine
ones ; those offered us at the pyramids were suspicious. We say
to Ali :—

" We should like to get a few good scarabsei ; we are entirely

an honest man.

ignori

you

THE PYRAMIDS.

You select half a- dozen that you consider the best, and we will
pay you a fair price ; if they do not pass muster in Cairo you
shall take them back."

" As you are a friend of Mr. Blank," said Ali, evidently
pleased with the confidence reposed in him, " you shall have the
best I have, for about what they cost me."

The scarabfeus is the black beetle that the traveller will con-
stantly see tumbling about in the sand, and foiling up balls of
dirt, as he does in lands where he hjis not so soundin ; a name.
He was sacred to the old Egyptians as an emblem of immortal-
ity, because he was supposed to have the power of self-produc-
tion. No mummy went away into the shades of the nether
world ivithout one on his breast, with spread wings attached to
it. Usually many scarabaei were buried with the mummy —
several hundreds have been found in one mummy-case. They
were cut from all sorts of stones, both precious and common,
and made of limestone, or paste, hardened, glazed and baked.
Some of them are exquisitely cut, the intaglio on the under side
being as clean, true, and polished as Greek work. The devices
on them are various ; the name of a reigning or a famous king,
in the royal oval, is not uncommon, and an authentic scarabseus
with a royal name is considered of roost value. I saw an insig-
nificant one in soft stone and of a grey color, held at a hundred
pounds ; it is the second one that has ever been found with the
name of Cheops on it. The scarabgei were worn in rings, car-
ried as charms, used as seals ; there are large coarse ones of blue
pottery which seem to have been invitations to a funeral, by
the inscriptions on them.

The scarabseus is at once the most significant and portable
souvenir of ancient Egypt that the traveller can carry away,
and although the supply was large, it could not fill the demand.
Consequently antique scarabiei are now manufactured in lai'ge
quantities at Thebes, and in other places, and distributed very
widely over the length of Egypt ; the dealers have them with
a sprinkling of the genuine ; almost every peasant can produce
one from his deep pocket ; the women wear them in their
bosoms. The traveller up the Nile is pretty sure to be attack-
ed with the fever of buying scarabsei; he expects to happen
upon one of greit value, which he will get for a few piastres.
It is his intention to do so. The scaraba3us becomes to him

9;?

MOSLEMS AND MUMMIES.

the most beautiful and desirable object in the world. He sees
something fasc'nating in its shape, in its hieroglyphics, however
ugly it may be to untaught eyes.

Ali selected our scarabaei. They did not seem to us exactly
the antique gems that we had expected to see, and they did not
give a high idea of the old Egyptian art. But they had a
mysterious history and meaning ; they had shared the repose
of a mummy perhaps before Abraham departed from Ur. We
paid for them. We paid in gold. We paid Ali for his services
as guide. We gave him backsheesh on account of his kindness
and intelligence, besides. We said good-bye to his honest face
with regret, and hoped to see him again.

It was not long before we earnestly desired to meet him.
He was a most accomplished fellow, and honesty was his best
policy. There isn't a more agreeable Bedawee at the pyramids;
and yet Ali ia a modern Egyptian, just like his scarabaei, all the
same. The traveler who thinks the Egyptians are not nimble-
witted and clever is likely to pay for his knowledge to the con-
trary. An accumulated experience of five thousand years, in
one spot, is not for nothing.

We depart from the pyramids amid a clamor of importunity;
prices have fallen to zero; antiquities old as Pharoah will be
gi^^en away; "backsheesh, backsheesh, O Howadji;" "I haven't
any bread to mangere, I have six children; what is a piastre
for eight persons ?" They rim after us, they hang upon the
carriage, they follow us a mile, begging, shrieking, howling,
dropping off one by one, swept behind by the weight of a cop-
per thrown to them.

The shadows fall to the east ; there is a lovely light on the
plain ; we meet long line? of camels, of donkeys, of fellaheen
returning from city and field. All the west is rosy; the pyramids
stand in a purplo light; the Sphinx casts its shade on the yellow
sand ; its expt^ctant eyes look beyond the Nile into the myste-
rious East.

CHAPTER IX.

PREPARATIONS FOR A VOYAGE.

'r-l-

\E are giving our minds to a name for our dahabeeh.
The owners have desired us to christen it, and the task
is getting heavy. Whatever we are doing ; guiding a
donkey through the mazes of a bazaar ; eating oranges at the
noon breakfast; watching the stream of color and fantastic
apparel, tswaying camels and dashing harem-equipage with run-
ning saises and outriding eunuchs, flowing by the hotel ; follow-
ing a wedding procession in its straggling parade, or strolling
vacantly along, knocked, jostled, evaded by a dozen races in a
dozen minutes, and lost in the whirl, color, excitement of this
perpetual masquerade, we are suddenly struck with, " what
shall we call that boat ?"

Wc v,'ant a name that h characteristic of the country and
expressive of our own feelings, poetic and not sentimental,
sensible and not common-place. It seems impossible to suggest
a good name that is not already borne by a dahabeeh on the
river — names such as the Lotus, the Ibis, the Gazelle, Cleo-
patra, Zenobia, names with an Eastern flavor. And we must
have not only a name for the boat, but a motto or device for
our pennant, or " diatinguisher flag," as the dragoman calls the
narrow fifty feet long strip of bunting that is to stream from
the forward yard. We carry at the stern the flag of our coun-
try, but we float our individuality in the upper air. If we had
been a bridal party we should of course have taken some such
device as that of a couple who went up the river under the
simple but expressive legend of " Nestledowu," written on their
banner.

What would you name a Nile dahabeeh 1

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

The days go all too rapidly for us to catch the shifting illu-
sions about us. It is not ko much what wo soe of tho stated
sights that can be described, but it is the atmosphere in which
we live that makes the strangeness of our existence. It is
as if we had been born into another wo*'ld. And the climate
is jis strange as the people, the costumes, the habits, the morals.
The calendar is bewitched. December is a mixture of Septem-
ber and July. Alas, yes. There are the night-fogs of Septem-
ber, and the mosquitoes of July. You cannot tell whether the
season is going backwards or forwards. But for once you are
content to let Providence manage it, at least so long us there
is a north wind, and you forget that the sky has any shade other
than blue.

And the prophecy of the poet is realized. The nights are
filled with music, and the cares that infest the day are invari-
ably put off till to-morrow, in this deliciously procrastinating
land. Perhaps, however, Mr. Longfellow would not be satisfied
with the music ; for it seems to be the nasal daughter of Lassi-
tude and Monotony, ancient gods of the East. Two or three
strings stretched over a sounding skin and a parchment drum
suffice to express the few notes that an Arab musician com-
mands ; harmony does not enter into his plan. Yet the people
are fond of what they consider music. We hear on all sides
at night the picking of strings, the throb of the darabooka and
the occasional outburst of a wailing and sentimental strain.
Like all barbarous music, this is always minor. When the per-
formers are sailors or common strollers, it is doubtless exactlv
the same music that delighted the ancient Egyptians ; even the
instruments are the same, and the method of clapping the hands
in accentuation of the music is unchanged.

There is a cafe chantant on our side of the open, tree-grown
court of a native hotel, in the Ezbekeeh, where one may hear
a mongrel music, that is not inexpressive of both the morals
and the mixed conditio'! of Caii*o to-day. The instruments of
the band are European ; the tunes played are Egyptian. When
the first strain is heard we say that it is strangely wild, a weird
and plaintiff minor ; but that is the whole of it. The strain is
repeated over and over again for a half hour, as if it were
ground out of a coffeo-mill, in an iteration sufficient to drive
the listener insane, the dissolute scraping and thumping and

PREPARTIONS FOR A VOYAGE.

barbarous disHonanco never chani^'ing nor cndini^. From time
to ^ime this is varied with singing, of the nasal, tinc-tocth-comh
order, with the most extraordinary attempts at shakes and
trills, and with all the agony of a moonlit cat on a house-top.
All this the grave Arabs and young Egyptian rakes, who sit
smoking, accept with entire satisfaction. Later in the evening
dancing begins and goes on with the strumming, monotonous
music till at least the call for morning jirayer.

In the handsome Ezbekeeh park or garden, where there are
shady walks and some fine sycamores and banyans to be seen,
a military band plays every afternoon, while the foreigners of
both sexes and Egyptian men promenade. Of course, no
Egyptian lady or woman of respectability is ever seen in so
public a place. In another part of the garden, more retired, a
native band is always playing at nightfall. In this sheltered
spot, under the lee of some gigantic rock and grotto- work, are
tables and chairs, and a divan for the band. This rock has
water pleasantly running through it, but it must have been
struck by somebody besides Moses, for beer is brought out of
its cool recesses, as well. Rows of men of all colors and cos-
tumes may be seen there, with pipe and mug and coffee cup ;
and on settees more elevated and next the grotto, are always
sitting veiled women, in outer wrappers of black silk, sometimes
open enough to show an underskirt of bright color and feet in
white slippers. These women call for beer or something
stronger, and smoke like the men ; they run no risk in being in
this publicity, for they have nothing to loose here or elsewhere.
Opposite them on a raised divan, not unlike a roomy bedstead,
sits the band.

It is the most disreputable of bands. Nothing in the whole
East so expressed to me its fagged-out dissoluteness as this band
and its performances. It is a sleepy, nonchalant band, as if it
had been awake all the previous night; some of its members
are blear-eyed, some have one eye, some have two ; they are in
turbans, in tarbooshes, in gowns of soiled silk, of blue cotton,
of white drilling. It is the feeblest band ; and yet it is subject
to spurts of bacchantic fervor. Sometimes all the instruments
are striving together, and then only one or two dribble the
monotonous refrain ; but somehow, with all the stoppings to

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

light cigarettes and sip coF 3, the tune is ke[»t groaning on, in
a minor that is as wild as the desert, and suggestive of sin.

The instruments are as African as the sunrise. There is
the da/rabooka, a drum made of an earthen or wooden cylinder
with a flaiing head, over which is stretched a parchment ; the
t(ir, a kind of tambourine ; kemengeh, a viol of two strings,
with a cocoa-nut sounding body ; the kaiwon, an instnmient
of strings held on the knees, and played with the fingers ; the
*oo(Z, a sort of guitar with seven double strings ; played with a
plectrum, a slip of vulture's feather held between the thumb
and finger ; and the my, a reed-flute blown at the end.

In the midst of the thumbing and scra})ing, a rakish youth
at the end is liable, at any moment, to throw back his head
and break out in a soft womanish voice, which may go no far-
ther than a nasal yohy ah, m-a-^'-r, that appears to satisfy his
yearnings ] or it may expand into a droning song, " Yd henat
laJ tindereeyeh" like that which Mr, Lane renders : —

*' ye damsels of Alexandria !

Your walk over the furniture is alluring :

Ye wear the Kashmeer shawl with embroidered work,

And your lips are sweet as sugar. "

Below the divan sit some idlers or supernumeraries, who, as
inclination moves them,. mark the rhythm by striking the
palms of the hands together, or cry out a prolonged ah-yahy
but always in a forgetful, uninterested manner, and then sub-
side into silence, while the picking and throbbing of the
demoralized tune goes on. It is the " devilish iteration" of it,
I think, that steals away the senses ; this, and some occult
immorality is the debased tune, that blots virtue out of the
world. Yet there is something comic in these blinking owls
of the night, giving sentimental tongue to the poetic imagery
of the Eastern love-song — "for a solitary gazelle has taken
away my soul " : —

** The beloved came io me with a vacillating gait ;

And her eyelids were the cause of my intoxication.

I extended my hand to take the cup,

And was intoxicated by her eyes.

O thou in the rose-coloured dress 1 thou in the rose-coloured dress !

Beloved of ray heart 1 remain with me."

I-

u, m

re is
Inder
; the
L-ingB,
iment
; the
nth a
hiimb

youth
; head
i(» far-
fy his
i benat

ho, as
the
:ih-yahj
m sub-
of the
i" of it,
occult
of the
tig owls
Imagery
taken

PREPARATIONS FOR A VOYAGE.

Or he pipes to the " dark-complexioned, and with two white

[d dress !

roses

"0 damsel! thy silk shirt is worn out, and thine arms have become

visible,
And I fear for thee, on account of the blackness of thine eyes.
I desire to intoxicate mvselt, and kiss thy cheeks,
And do deeds that 'Antar did not."

To all of which the irresponsible chorus, swaying its head,
responds ! y-(i-%-a-h ! And the motley audience sips and
smokes ; the veiled daughters of sin flash invitation from their
kohl-stained eyes ; and the cool night comes after the flaring
heat of the day ; and all things are as they have been for thou-
sands of years. It is time to take yor^ to something religious.

The Howling Derweeshes are the most active religionists in
the East ; I think they spend more force in devotion than the
Whirling Dei*weeshes, though they are probably not more
meritorious. They exceed our own western " Jumpers," and
by contrast make the woi-ship of our dancing Shakers tame and
worldly. Of all the physical manifestations of religious feel-
ing there is none more warming th.^n the zikr of these devotees.
The derweeshes are not all wanderers, beggars, saints in })atclied
garments and filthy skin ; perhaps the most of those who belong
to one of the orders pursue some regular occupation ; they are
fishermen, labourers in the fields, artisans, and water-carriera,
and only occasionally join in the ceremonies, processions and
zikrs of their faith. I have seen a labourer drop into the ring,
take his turn at a zikr, and drop out again, very much as the
western man happens in and takes a hand in a " free fight,"'
and then retires.

This mosque at which the Howling Derweeshes perform is
circular, and large enough to admit a considerable number of
spectators, who sit or stand against the wall. Since the exer-
cise is one of the sights of the metropolis, and strangers are
expected, it has a little the air of a dress-parade, and I could
not but fear that the devotion lost somewhat of its singleness
of purpose. When we enter, about forty men stand in an
oblong ring facing each other ; the ring is open towards the
mehhnib, or niche which marks the direction of Mecca. In the
7

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

opening HtaiidH the Sheykh, to direct tho performance ; and at
liLs loft arc Kcatod the musicians.

The derweeshes have divested themselves of turbans, fezes,
outer gowns and slippers, which lie in a heap in the middle of
the circle, an indistinguishable mass of old clothes, from which,
when the owners come to draw, they cannot fail to get as good
as they deposited. The ceremony begins with a little uneasi-
ness on the part v^f the musical instruments ; the sheykh bows
his liead and brings the palms of his hands together ; and the
derweeshes, standing close together, with their hands straight
at their sides^ begin slowly to bow and to sway to the right in
a compound motion which is each time extended. The darcL-
hooka is beaten softly, and the *ood is picked to a slow measure.
As the worshippers sway, they chant La ikiha ill-cdlnh (*' There
is no deity but God") in endless repetition, and imperceptibly
quickening the enunciation as they bow more rapidly. The
music gets faster, and now and again one of the roguish boys
who is thumping the drum breaks out into vocal expression of
his piety or of his hilarity. The circle is now under full swing,
the bowings are lower and much more rapid, and the ejacula-
tion has become merely Allah, Allah, Allah, with a strong stress
on the final syllable.

The peculiarities of the individual performers liegin to come
out. Some only bow and swing in a perfunctory manner ;
others throw their strengtii into the performance, and their ex-
citement is evincecl by the working of the face and the rolling
of the eyes. Many of them have long hair, which has evidently
known neither scissors nor comb for years, and is matted and
twisted in a hopeless tangle. One of the most conspicuous and
the least clad, a hairy man of the desert, is exactly, in apparel
and feature, like the conventional John the Baptist. His
enormous shock of faded brown hair is two feet long, and its
ends are dyed yellow with henna. When he bends ibrward his
hair sweeps the floor, and when he throws his head back the
mass whips over with a sioish through the air. The most devout
person ; however, is a negro, who puts all the fervor of the
tropics into his exercise. His ejaculations are rolled out with
extraordinary volume, and his black skin shines with moisture;
there is, too, in his swaying and bowing, an abandon, a laxity
of muscles, and a sort of jerk that belong only to his sympa-
thetic race. .

id at

fezea,
lie of
^hich,

good
iieasi-

bows
d the
raight
;ht in

dara-

:a8ure.

There

sptibly

The

•

1 boys
ion of
swing,
jacula-
y stress

come
anner ;
eir ex-

1 rolling
Idently
led and
ms and
ipparel
. His

md its

i,rd his

the

Idevout

of the

It with

[istiire;

laxity

sympa-

PREPARATIONS FOR A VOYAGK.

Tho exercise ia every moment gi-owing morei rapid, but in
regular incremeiitH, as tho music hastisns — five minutes, ten
minutes, fifteen miimtes — until there is a very iiigh pressure
on, the revohitions of the cylinder are almost one in two
seconds, and the piston movers quicker and quicker. The music,
however, is not louder, only more intense, and now and tlien
the reod-flute executes a little obligate, a i)laintive strain, that
steals into the frenzy like tlie note of a lost bird, sweet as love
and sad as death. The perfor-mers are now going so rapidly
that they can only (yaouiate one syllable, *lah, 7a/t, *lah, which
is aspirated in a hoarse voice every time the head is flung for-
ward to the floor. The hands are now at liberty, and swing
with the body, or rre held })alm to palm before the face. The
negro cannot longer contain himself, but breaks occasionally
into a shrill " hoo !" He and two or three others have " the
power," and are not far from an epileptic fit.

There is. a limit, however, to the endurance of tiio body ; the
swaying has become so rapid that it is diflicult to distinguish
faces, and it is impossible for the performers to repeat even a
syllable of the name of Allah ; all they can do is to push out
from the depths of tho lungs a vast hoarse aspiration of la-(tr-ah,
which becomes finally a gush exactly like the cut-oflf of a steam
engine, short and quick.

The end has nearly come ; in vain the cymbals clang, in vain
the drum is beaten harder, and the horn calls to quicker work.
The limit is reached, and while the reed expresses its plaintive
fear, the speed slackens, the steam pufi*s are slower, and with
an irregular hoo I from the colored brother, the circle stands
still.

You expect to ..^q them sink down exhausted. Not a bit of
it. One or two having had enough of it, take their clothes and
withdraw, and their places are filled by others und by some
very sensible-looking men, trades-people evidently. After a
short rest they go through the same or a similar performance,
and so on for an hour and a half, the variations being mainly
in the chanting. At the end, each derweesh affectionately em-
braces the Sheykh, kisses his hand without servility, resumes
his garments and quietly v/ithdraws. They seem to have en-
joyed the exercise, and certainly they had plenty of it. 1
should like to know what they think of us, the infidel specta-

100

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

pinij

toi-H, who go to look at their religious devotioiiH as if they were
a play,

'Ihat tlorweoHh Ijoggar iu a groou turban is by that token a
shereef, or deHcendant of the prophet. No one but a shereef is
allowed to wear the green turban. The shereefs are in all ranks
of Hociety, many of them wretched paupers and in the most
menial occupations ; the title is inherited from either parent
and the rei)resentatives of the race have become common.
Some who are entitled to the gi*een turban wear the white in-
stead, and prefer to be called Seyd (master or lord) instead of
Shereef. Such a man is Seyd Sadat, the most conspicuous
repiesentative of the family of the Prophet in Cairo. His an-
cestors for a long period were the trustees of the funds of all the
great mosques of Cairo, aiid consequently handled an enormous
rev€!nue and enjoyed great power. These millions of income
from the property of the mosques the Khedive has diverted x)
his own purposes by the simple process oi making himself their
trustee. Thus the secular power interferes every few centuries,
in all countries, with the accumulation of property in religious
houses. The strict Moslems think with the devout Catholics,
that 't is an impious interference.

Seyd Sadat lives in the house that his family have occupied
for over eight centuries ! It is perhaps the best and richest
specimen of Saracenic domestic architecture now standing in
the East. This house, or cellection of houses and disconnected
rooms opei\ing upon courts and gardens, is in some portions of
it in utter decay ; a part, whose elegant arches and marvelous
carvings in stone, with elaborate hanging balconies and painted
recesses, are still studies of beauty, is used as a stable. The
inhabited rooms of the house are tiled two-thirds of the way to
the lofty ceilings ; the floors are of variegated marbles, and the
ceilings are a mass of wood in the most intricate arabesque
carving, and painted in colors as softly blended as the hues of
an ancient camels' hair shawl. In one of these gorgeous apart-
ments, the furniture of which is not at all in keeping with the
decorations (an incongruity which one sees constantly in the
East — shabbiness and splendor are indissolubly married), we
are received by the Descendant with all the ceremony of Eastern
hospitality. Seated upon th'^ divan raised above the fountain
at one end of the apartment, we begin one of these encounters

PREPARATIONS FOR A VOYAGE.

lOI

of (lompliinonts throimli an iiitorprotor, oijt of which tlio
traveltji* alwa_yH uomea beaten out of sight. The Hoytl is a
hamlsomo intelliifijent man of thirty-five, sleek with good living
and repose, and a master of Oriental courtesy. His attire is all
of silk, the blue color predominating ; his only ornanumt is a
heavy gold chain about the neck. We frame long speeches to
the Seyd, and ho appears to reply with equal verboseness, but
what he says or what is said to him we never know. The
Eastern dragoman is not averse to talking, but he always intcu*-
prets in a sort of shoi*t-hand that is fatal to conversation. I
think the dragomans at such interviews usually translate you
into what they think you ought to say, and give you such a
reply as they think will bo good for you.

" Say to his lordship that wo thank him for the honor of
being permitted to pay our respects to a person so distin-
guished."

" His excellency (who has been talking two minutes) says
you do him too much honor."

" We were unwilling to leave Cairo without seeing the resi-
dence of so celebrated a fami^^"

** His excellon j (who has now got fairly going) feels in deep
the visit of strangers so distinguish."

" It is a great pleasure also to us to see an Arab house so old
and magnificent."

" His excellency (who might have been reciting two chapters
of the Koran in the interval) say not to mention it ; him sorry
it is not more worth you to see."

The attendants bring sherbet in large and costly cups, and
chibooks elegantly mounted, and the conversation floundsra
along. The ladies visit the harem above, and we look about
the garden and are shown into room after room, decorated in
endless variety and with a festivity of invention and harmony
of color which the modern have lost. The harem turns out to
be, like all ordinary harems, I think, only mysterious on the
outside. We withdraw with profuse thanks, frittered away
through our dragoman, and " His excellency say he hope you
have pleasant voyage and come safe to your family and your
country." About the outer court, and the door where we
mount our donkeys, are many idlers in the sun, half beggars,
half attendants, all of whom want backsheesh, besides the regu-

n: ;

102

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

lar servants who expect a fee in proj)0»-tion to the " distinguish "
of the visitor. They are |)robably not unlike the clients of en
ancient Roman house, or the retainers of a baronial lord of the
middle ages.

If the visitor, however, really desires to see the antiquities of
fche Christian era, he will ride out to Old Cairo, and mouse
about among the immense rubbish heaps that have been piled
there since Fostat (as the ancient city was called) was reduced
to ashes, more than seven hundred years ago, by a fire which
raged neariy two months. There is the ruined mosque of Amer,
and there are the quaint old Coptic convents and ciiurches, built
about with mud walls, and hidden away amid mounds of rubbish.
To these dust-filled lanes and into these mouldering edifices the
antiquarian will gladly go. These churches are the land of the
flea and the home of the Copt. Aujrthing dingier, darker,
dirtier, doesn't exist. To one of them, the Sitt Miriam, Church
of Our Lady, we had the greatest difficulty in getting admis-
sion. It is Tip-stairs in one of the towers of the old Roman
gpteway of Babylon. It is a small church, but it has five aisles
and some very rich wood-carving and stone-mosaics. It was
cleaner than the others because it was toi n to pieces in the pro-
cess of renovation. In these churches are hung ostrich eggs,
as in the mosques, and in many of them are colored marbles,
and exquisite mosaics of marble, mother-of-pearl, and glass.
A boo Sirgeh, the one most visited, has a subterranean chapel
which is the seat of an historical transaction that may interest
some minds. There are two niches in the wall, and in cne of
them, at the time of the Flight into Egypt, the Virgin Mary
rested with the Child, and in the other St. Joseph reposed.
That is all.

A little further on, by the river bank, opposite the southern
end of the island of Rlioda, the Moslems show you the spot
where little Moses lay in his little basket, when the daughter
of Pharaoh came down to bathe (for Pharaoh hadn't a bath-tub
in his house) and espied him. The women of the Nile do to-
day exactly what Pharaoh's daughter and her maidens did, but
there are no bulrujbes at this place now, and no lad of the
promise of Moses is afloat.

One can never have done witn an exploration of Cairo, with
digging down into the strata of overlying civilizations, gr

was

with

PREPARATIONS FOR A VOYAGE.

103

studyiijg the Khifting surface of its Oriental life. Here, in tins
Oltl Cairo, was an ancient Egyptian town, no doubt ; the Ilonians
constructed here massive walls and towei-s ; the followers of
St. Mark erected churches ; the friends of Mohammed built
mosques ; and here the mongrel subjects of the Khedive, a mix-
ture of ancient Egyptian, conquering Arabian, subject Nubian,
enslaved Soudan, inheritors of all civilizations and api)ropri-
Ators of none, kennel amid those histox'ic ash-l\eaps, caring
neither for their past nor their future.

But it is drawing towards the middle of December ; there
are signs that warn us to be oK to the south. It may rain.
There are symptoms of chill in the air, especially at night, and
the hotel, unwarmed, is cheerless as a barn, when the sun does
not shine. Indeed, give Cairo the climate of London in No-
vember and everybody would perish in a week. Our prepara-
tions drift along. It is ah ays "to-morrow." It requires a
week to get the new name of the boat printed on a tin. The
first day the bargain for it is made ; the work is to be finished
b . , A-ra, to-morrow. Next day the letters are studied. The next
the tin is prepared. The next day is Friday or Wednesday or
some other day in which repose is required. And the next the
workman comes to know what letters the howadji desires to
have upon the tin, and how big a sign is required.

Two other necessary articles remain to be procured ; rockets
and other fire-works to illuminate benighted l^sypt, and med-
icines. As we were not taking along a physician and should
find none of those experimenting people on the Nile, I did not
see the use of carrying drugs. Besides we were going into the
one rejlly salubrious region of the globe. But everybody takes
medicines , you must carry medicines. The guide-book gives
you a list of absolutely essential, nasty drug.j and compounds,
more than you would need if you were staying at home in an
artificial society, with m^thing to do bat take t ' lem, and a
physician in every street.

T bought chunks of drugiS, bottles of poisons, bundles of foul "
smells and bitter tastes. And then they told me that I needed
balan'^es to weigh them in. This was too much. I was willing
to take along an apothecary's shop on this pleasure excursion ;
I was not willing to become an apothecary. No, I said, if I am
to feed out those nauseous thing;- on the Nile, I will do it

i:
1

' {fi

' 5"

il,j

104

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

generously, according to taste, and like a phvsician, never
stinting the quantity. I would never be mean about giving
medicine to other people. And it is not difficult to get up a
reputation for generosity on epsom salts, rhubarb and castor
oil.

"We carried all these drugs on the entreaty of friends and the
druggist, who said it would be very unsafe to venture so far
without them. But I am glad we had them with us. The
knowledge that we had them was a great comfort. To be sure
we never experienced a day's illness, and brought them all back,
except some doses that I was able to work off upon the crew.
There was a gentle blaok boy, who had been stolen young out
of Soudan, to whom it was a pleasure to give the most disagree-
able mixtures ; he absorbed enormous doses as a lily drinks
dew, and they never seemed to harm him. The aboriginal man,
whose constitution is not weakened by civilization, can stand a
great amount of doctor's stuff. The Nile voyager is earnestly
advised to carry a load of drugs with him ; but I think we
rather over-did the business in castor-oil ; for the fact is that
the people in Nubia fairly swim in it, and you can cut the cane
and suck it whenever you feel like it.

By all means, go drugged on your pleasure voyage. It is
such a cheerful prelude to it, to read that you will need blue-
pills, calomel, rhubarb, Dover's powder, James's powder, carbolic
acid, laudanum, quinine, sulphuric acid, sulphate of zinc, nitrate
of silver, ipecacuanha, and blistering plaster. A few simple
directions go with these. If you feel a little unwell, take a few
blue pills, only about as many as you can hold in your hand ;
follow these with a little Dover's powder, and then repeat, if
you feel worse, as you probably will ; when you rally, take a few
swallows of castor-oil, and drop into your throat some laudanum;
and then, if you are alive, drink a dram of sulphuric acid. The
consulting friends then generally add a little rice-water and a
teaspoonful of brandy.

In the opinion of our dragoman it is scarcely reputable tc go
up the Nile v thout a store of rockets and other pyrotechnics.
Abd-el-Atti lould have been born in America. He would
enjoy a life tliat was a continual Fourth of July. He would
like his pathway to be illuminated with lights, blue, red and
green, and tq blaze with rookets, The supreme momeat of hi^

PREPARATIONS FOR A VOYAGE.

105

jle
'ew

'.ew

d a

LCS.

lid

nld

Ind

ii§

life is when he feels the rocket-stick tearing out of his hand.
The common tire- works in the Mooskee he despised ; nothing
would do but the government-made, which are very good. The
passion of some of the Egyptians for fire- arms and gunpowder
is partly due to the prohibition. The government strictly for-
bids the use of guns and pistols and interdicts the importation
or selling of powder. On the river a little powder and shot are
more valuable than money.

We had obtained permission to cider some rockets manu-
factured at the government works, and in due time we went
with Abd-el-Atti to the bureau at the citadel to pay for them.
The process was attended with all that deliberation which
renders life so long and valuable in the Ea^t.

We climbed some littered and dusty steps, to a roof terrace
upon which opened several apartments, brick and stucco cham-
bers with cement floors, the walls whitewashed, but yellow
with time and streaked with dirt. These were government
offices, but office furniture was scarce. Men and boys in
dilapidated gowns were sitting about on their heels smoking.
One of them got up and led the way, and pulling aside a soiled
curtain showed us into the presence of a bey, a handsomely
dressed Turk, with two gold chains about his neck, squatting on
a ragged old divan at one end of the little room ; and this
divan was absolutely all the furniture that this cheerless closet,
which had one window obscured with dust, contained. Two or
three officers were waiting to get the bey's signature to papers,
and a heap of documents lay beside him, with an inkhorn on
the cushions. Half-clad attendants or petitioners shuffled in
and out of the presence of this head of the bureau. Abd-el-Atti
pix)duced his papers, but they were not satisfaotory, and we
were sent elsewhere.

Passing through one shabby room after mother, we came
into one dimmer, more stained and littered than the others.
About the sides of the room upon low divans sat, ci-oss-legged,
the clerks. Before each was a shabby wooden desk which
served no purpose, however, but to hold piles of equally shabby
account books. The windows were thick with dust, the floor
wtvi dirty, the desks, books and clerks were dirty. But the
clerks were evidently good fellows, just like those in all govern-
ment offices- — nqthing to dp ao,(^ not pay enough to make theju

io6

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

uneasy to 1x5 rich. They rolled cigarettes an«l smoked con-
tinually ; one or two of them were casting up columns of
figures, holding the sheet of paper in the left hand and calling
each figure in a loud voice (as if a little doubtful whether the
figure would respond to that name) ; and some of them wrote a
little, by way of variety. When they wrote the thin sheet of
paper was held in the left hand and the writing done upon tlie
palm (as the Arabs always write) ; the pen used was a blunt
reed and the ink about as thick as tar. The writing resulting
from these unfavorable conditions is generally handsome.

Our entry and papers were an event in that office, and the
documents became the subject of a general conversation. Other
public business (except the cigarettes) was suspended, and
nearly every clerk gave his opinion on the question, whatever
it was. I was given a seat on a rickety divan, coffee was
brought in, the clerks rolled cigarettes for me and the business
began to open ; not that anybody showed any special interest in
it, however. On the floor sat two or three boys, eating their
dinner of green bean leaves and some harmless mixture of
grease and flour ; and a cloud of flies settled on them undis-
turbed. What service the ragged boys rendered to the govern-
ment I could not determine. Abd-el-Atti was bandying jocu-
larities with the clerks, and directing the conversation now and
then iipon the rockets.

In course of time a clerk found a scrap of paper, daubed one
side of it with Arabic characters, and armed with this we went
to another office and got a signature to it. This, with the other
documents, we carried to another room much like the first,
where the business appeared to take a fresh start ; that is, we
sat down and talked ; and gradually induced one official after
another to add a suggestion or a figure or two. Considering
that we were merely trying to pay for some rockets that were
ref^xiy to be delivered to us, it did seem to me that almost a
whole day was too much to devote to the affair. But I was
mistaken. The afternoon was waning when we went again to
the bey. He was still in his little " cubby," and made room
for me on the divan. A servant brought coffee. We lighted
cigarettes, and, without haste, the bey inked the seal that hung
to his gold chain, wet the paper and impressed his name in the
proper corner. We were now in a condition to go to the
treasury office and pay.

PREPARATIONS FOR A VOYAGE.

107

I expected to see a guarded room and heavily bolted safes.
Instead of this there was no treasui-y apai-tnieut, nor any strong
box. But we found the " treasury " walking about in one of
the passages, in the shape of an old Arab in a white turban and
faded yellow gown. This personage fished out of his deep
breast-pocket a rag of a purse, counted out some change, and
put what we paid him into the same receptacle. The Oriental
simplicity of the transaction was pleasing. And the money
ought to be safe, for one would as soon think of robbing a
derweesh as this yellow old man.

The medicine is shipped, the rockets are on board, the crew
have been fitted out with cotton drawers, at our expense (this
garment is an addition to the gown they wear), the name of
the boat is almost painted, the flags are ready to hoist, and the
dahabeeh has been taken from Boulak and is moored above the
drawbridge. We only want a north wind.

one
'^ent
:her
irst,

Ifter

■ing

'^ere

it a

'^as
to
)om
ited

the

CHAPTER X.

ON THE NILE.

jE have taken possession of our clahabeeh, which lies
moored under the bank, out of the current, on the west
side of the river above the bridge. On the top of the
bank are some structures that seem to be only mounds and
walls of mud, but they are really " brivate houses," and each
one has a wooden door, with a wooden lock and key. Here, as
at every other rod of the river, where the shore will permit, the
inhabitants come to fill their water-jars, to wash clothes, to
bathe, or to squat on their heels and wait for the Nile to run
dry.

And the Nile is running rapidly away. It sweeps under the
arches of the bridge like a freshet, with a current of about three
miles an hour. Our sandal (the broad clumsy row-boat which
we take in tow) is obliged to aim far above its intended landing
place when we cross, and four vigorous rowers cannot prevent
its drifting rapidly down stream. The Nile is always in a
hurry on its whole length ; even when it spreads over fiats for
miles, it keeps a channel for swift passage. It is the only thing
that is in a hurry in Egypt; and the more one sees it the
stronger becomes the contrast of this haste with the flat valley
through which it flows and the apathetic inhabitants of its
banks.

"We not only have taken possession of our boat, but we have
begun housekeeping in it. We have had a farewell dinner-
party on board. Our guests, who are foreigners, declare that
they did not suppose such a dinner possible in the East; a
better could not be expected in Paris. We admit that such
dinners are not common in this hungry world out of New York,

ON THE NILE.

109

ch lies
le west

of the
ds and
id each
[ere, as
ait, the
hes, to

to run

der the

it three

which

anding

revent

TB in a

lats for

thing

it the

valley

of its

te have
linner-
?e that
last ; a
Lt such
York,

Even in New York the soup would not have been made of
lentils.

We hiixe p* ssed a ni^'ht under a mosquito net, more com-
fortably than on shore, to be sure, but we are anxious to get
into motion and change the mosquitoes, the flies, the fleas of
Cairo for some less rapacious. It is the seventeenth of De-
cember. We are in the bazaars, buying the last things, when at
noon we perceive that the wind has shifted. We hasten on
board. Where is the dragoman ! " Mohammed EiSendi Abd-
el-Atti goin' bazaar come directly," says the waiter. At half-
past two the stout dragoman slides ofi* his donkey and hastens
on board with all the speed compatible with short legs, out of
breath, bu issuing a storm of orders like a belated captain of a
seventy-two. He is accompanied by a black boy beaiing the
name of our dahabeeh, rudely painted on a piece of tin, the
paint not yet dry. The dia-goman regards it with some pride,
and well he may, for it has cost time and trouble. No Arab
on the river can pronounce the name, but they all undei-stand
its signification when the legend attached to it is related, and
having a similar tale in the Koran, they have no objection to
sail in a dahabeeh called the

RIP VAN WINKLE.

The name has a sort of appropriateness in the present awak-
ening of Egypt to modern life^ jdu'o exactly what it is we cannot
explain.

We seat ouraelves on deck to watch the start. There is as
much noise and confusion as if the boat were on fire. The
mo^ient has come to cast off, when it is discovered that two of
the crew are absent, no doubt dallying in some cofiee-house.
We cannot wait, they must catch us as they can. The stake is
pulled up ; the plank is drawn in ; the boat is shoved ofi* from
its sand bed with grunting and yah-hoo-ing, some of the crew in
the water, and some pushing with poles ; the great sail drops
down from the yard and the corner is hauled in to a wild
chorus, and we take the stream. For a moment it seems as if
we should be carried against the bridge ; but the sail is large,
the wind seizes us, and the three-months' voyage has begun.

We are going slowly but steadily, perhaps at the rate of

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

H
d

three or four miles an hour, past the receding city, drawing
away from the lieet of boats and barges on the shore and the
multitudinous life on its banks. It is a scene of color, motion,
variety'". The river is alive with crafts of all sorts, the shores
are vocal with song, laughter, and the unending " chaflT' of a
river population. Beyond, the spires and domes of the city are
lovely in the afternoon light. The citadel and the minarets
gleam like silver against the purple of the Mokattam hills. We
pass the long white palace of the Queen-mother ; we are abreast
the Isle of Khoda, its yellow palace and its ancient Nilometer.
In the cove at Geezeh are passenger-dahabeehs, two flying the
American flag, with which we exchange salutes as we go. The
people on their decks are trying with a telescope to make out
the device on our pennant at the yard-arm. It afibrds occupa-
tion for a great many people at different times during the
voyage. Upon a white ground is a full sun, in red ; following
it in red letters is the legend Fost Nubila PJicebus ; it is the
motto on the coat of arms of the City of Hartford. Here it
signifies that we four Hartford people, beginning this voyage,
exchange the clouds of New England for the sun of Egypt. The
flag extends beyond the motto in a bifurcated blue streamer.

Flag, steamer and sail take the freshening north wind. A
smaller sail is set aft. The reis crouches on the bow, watching
the channel ; the steersman, a grave figure, pushes slowly back
and forth the long iron handle of the tiller at the stem ; the
crew, waiting for their supper, which is cooking near the mast,
begin to sing, one taking the solo and the others striking in
with a minor response ; it is not a song but a one-line ejacula-
tion, followed by a sympathetic and barbaric assent in chorus.

The shores glide past like that land of the poet's dream
where "it is always afternoon"; reposeful and yet brilliant.
The rows of palms, the green fields, the lessening minarets, the
groups of idlers in flowing raiment, picturesque in any attitudes
they assume, the depth of blue above and the transparent soft
air — can this be a permanent condition, or is it only the scene
of a play ]

In fact, we are sailing not only away from Europe, away
from Cairo, into Egypt and the confines of mysterious Africa ;
we are sailing into the past. Do you think our voyage is
merely a thousand miles on the Nilel We have committed

:i i.

ON THE NILE.

Ill

iwrng
id the
otion,
jhorea
^'of a
ty are
narets
3. We
breast
meter,
ng the
The
ke out
iccupa-
ig the
lowing
1 is the
lere it
roya^e,
t. The
amer.
..d. A
itching
y back
n; the
mast,
ing in
^jacula-
orus.
dream
lilliant.
its, the
itudes
Int soft
scene

ourselves to ii stroam that will lead us thousands of years back-
wards in tlio ag(j:s, into the depths of liistoiy. Wlimi we loosed
from Cairo we let go our hold upon the modem. As we recede,
perhaps we shall get a tiiier perspective, and see more correctly
the width of the strip of time which we call " our era." There
are the pyramids of Geezeh watching our depai-ture, lifting
themselves aloft in the evening sky ; there «re the pyramids of
Sakkara, sentinels of that long past into which we go.

It is a splendid stf? t, for the wind blows steadily and wo
seem to be Hying before it. It is probable that we are making
five miles an hour, which is very well against such a current.
Our dahabel'h proves to be an excellent sailor, and we have the
se^fi^h pleasure of passing boat after boat, with a little ripple of
excitement not enough to destroy our placid enjoyments. It is
much pleasauter to lift your hat to the travelers on a boat that
you are drawing ahead of than it is to those of one that is drop-
ping your boat astern.

The Nile voyage is so peculiar, and is, in fact, such a luxuri-
ous method of passing a winter, that it may be well to say a
little more concerning our boat. It is about one hundred and
twenty feet long, and eighteen broad in the centre, with a flat
bottom and no keel ; consequently it cannot tack or sail con-
traiy to the wind. In the bow is the cook's " cubby " with the
range, open to the weather forward. Behind it stands the
mast, some forty feet high, and on the top of it is lashed the
slender yard, which is a hundred feet long, and hangs obliquely.
The enormo'is triangular sail stretches the length of the yard
and its point is hauled down to the deck. When it is shifted,
the rope is let go, leaving the sail flapping, the end of the yard
is canied round the mast and the sail is hauled round in the
opposite direction, with an amount of pulling, roaring, jabber-
ing, and chorusing, more than would be necessary to change
the course of an American fleet of war. The flat, open forward
deck is capable of accommodating six rowers on a side. It is
floored over now, for the sweeps are only used in descending.

Then comes the cabin, which occupies the ^eater part of the
boat, and makes it rather to})-]ieavy and ditiicult of manage-
ment in an adverse wind. First in the cabin are the pantry
and dragoman's room ; next a large saloon, used for dining,
furnished with divans, mirrors, tables, and chairs, and light-ed

112

MUMMIES AND MOSl KMS.

'in

h .1

i !

; i

by large windows close together. Next are rows of bedrooms,
bath-room etc ; a paasiige between leads to the after or loung-
ing cabin, made comfortable with divans and Eastern rugs.
Over the whole cabin runs the deck, which has sofas and chairs
and an awning, and is good promenading space. The rear por-
tion of it is devoted to the steersman, who necids plenty of room
for the sweep of the long tiller. The steering apparatus is of
the rudest. The tiller goes into a stern-post which plays in a
hole big enough for four of it, and creakingly turns a rude
rudder.

If you are familiar with the Egyptian temple you will see
that our dahabech is built on this plan. If there is no pylon,
there is the mast which was always lashed to it. Then comes
the dromos of sphinxes, the forward deck, with the crew sitting
along the low bulwarks ; the first cabin is the hall of columns,
or vestibulum ; behind it on each side of the passage are vari-
ous chambers ; and then comes the adytum or sanctuary — the
inner cabin. The deck is the flat roof upon which wound the
solemn processions ; and there is a private stairway to the deck
just as there was always an inner passage to the roof from one
of the small chambers of the tepiple.

The boat is manned by a numerous company whose appear-
ance in procession would excite enthusiasm in any American
town. Abd-el-Atti has for companion and clerk his nephew, a
young Egyptian (employed in the telegraph office), but in Frank
dress, as all government officials are required to be.

The reis, or captain, is Hassan. Aboo Seyda, a rather stately
Arab of sixty years, with a full turban, a long gown of blue
cotton, and bare-footed. He walks the deck with an ease and
grace that an actor might envy ; there is neither stiffness nor
strut in it ; it is a gait of simple majesty which may be inherit-
ed from generations of upright ancestors, but could never be
acquired. Hassan is an admirable figure-head to the expedition,
but he has no more pluck or authority than an old hen, and
was of not much more use on board than a hen would be in a
chicken-hatching establishment.

Abdel Hady Hassed, the steersman, is a Nubiaji from the First
Cataract, shiny black in color, but with regular and d^lioato
features. I can see him now, with his turban set well back on
his head, in a loose, long-sleeved, brown garment, and without

ON THE NILE.

113

stockingH or Hlippors, ''^aning agairiHt h\n tillor and looking
Htraight ahead with unchanging countenance. His face had tlio
peculiarity, which is sometimes seen, of appearing always to
have a smile on it. He was born with that smile; he will die
with it. An admirable person, who never showed the least ex-
citement. That man would run us fast on a sand -bank, put us
on a rock in plain sight, or let his sail jibe, without changing a
muscle of his face, and in the most agreeable and good-natured
manner in the world. And he never exhibited the least petu-
lance at his accidents. I hope he will be rewarded for the
number of hours he patiently stood at that tiller. The reis
would take the helm when Abdel wanted to say his j)rayers or
to eat his simple meals ; but, otherwise, I always found him at
his post, late at night or in the early morning, gazing around on
Egypt with that same stereotyped expression of pleasure:

The cook, Hasaneyn Mahrowan (the last name has an Irish
sound, but the first is that of the sacred mosque where is buried
the head of the martyr El Hoseyn) is first among his craft, and
contrives to produce on his little range in the bow a dinner that
would have made Rameseo II. a better man. He is always at
his post, like the steersman, and no matter what excitement or
peril we may be in, Hasaneyn stirs his soup or bastes his chicken
with perfect sang froid. The fact is that these Orientals have
got a thousand or two thousand years beyond worry, and never
feel any responsibility for what others are doing.

The waiter, a handsome Cairene, is the perfection of a trained
servant, who understands signs better than English. Hoseyn
Ali also rejoices in a noble name. Hasan and Hoseyn are, it is
well known, the "two lords of the youths of the people of
Paradise, in Paradise " ; they were grandsons of the Prophet.
Hoseyn was slain at the battle of the Plain of Karbala. Hoseyn
is the most smartly dressed fellow on board. His jacket and
trousers are of silk ; he wears a gay kuffia about his fez and his
waist is girded with a fine Cashmere shawl. The fatal defect in
his dress is that the full trowsers do not quite meet the stock-
ings. There is always some point of shabbiness or lack of finish
in every Oriental object.

The waiter's lieutenant is an Abyssinian boy who rejoices in
the name of Ahman Abdallah (or, "Slave of God"); and the
cook's boy is Gohah ebn Abdallah ("His father slave of God").
8

114

MUMMIES AND MOSLKMS.

'i '
ill* ■

\-4 ■ t

ThiH in tho poetical way of ))uttiiif; tlieir condition ; they were
both Hlavoaot' Ab«i-el-Atti, but now, h«i says, lie lui.s tVcr.! t\\vu\.
For Uohah ho gave two napoleons whon tho hid waH now.
Greater contrast coukl not be between two colored boyH. Ah-
man is black enough, but his features are regular and wrll made,
he has a bright merry eye, and is quick in all his intuitions,
and intellectually faithful to tlie least particular. He divines
the wants of his masters by his quick wit, and never neglects
or forgets anything. Gohah is from tho Soudan, and a jRu-fect
Congo negro in features and texture of skin — lips i)rotniding
and nose absolutely level with his cheeks ; as faithful and affec-
tionate as a Newfoundland dog, a mild, gentle boy. What an-
other servant would know through his sharpened interest,
Gohah comprehends by his affections.

I have described these persons, because they are types of the
almost infinite variety of races and tribes in Egypt. Besides
these there aie fourteen sailors, and no two of the same shade
or with similar features. Most of them are of Upper Egypt,
and two or three of them are Nubians, but I should say that
all are hopelessly mixed in blood. Ahmed, for instance, is a
Nubian, and the negro blood comes out in him in his voice and
laugh and a certain i*olling antic movement of the body. An-
other sailor has that flush of red under dark in the face which
marks the quadroon. The dress of the crew is usually a gown,
a pair of drawers, and a turban. Ahmed wears a piece of
Turkish towelling round his head. The crew is an incongruous
lot altogether ; a third of them smoke hasheesh whenever they
can get it ; they never obey an order without talking about it
and suggesting something different; they are all captains in
fact ; they are rarely quiet, jabbering, or quarreling, or singing,
when they are not hauling the sail, hoisting us from a sandbar,
or stretched on deck in deep but not noiseless slumber. You
cannot but like the good-natured rascals.

An irresponsible, hard-working, jolly, sullen, contradictory
lot of big children, who, it is popularly reported, need a
koorbdg (a whip of hippopotamus hide) to keep them in the way
of industry and obedience. It seems to me that a little kind-
ness would do better than a good deal of whip. But the kindness
ought to have begun some generations back. The koorbig is
the legitimate successor of tho stick, and the Egyptians hay©

ON THE NILE.

it it
in

)ar,
ou

)ry
a
ray
id-

Uion ruled by tho stick for a |>rriod of whidi history roport^i
not to tlio coiitniry. In tho HculpturcH on tho earliest tombs
lafK)rer8 are driven to their tasks with the? stick. Hailors on
the old Nile boats are menaced with the stick. Tlu? o^-erseer
in the field swings the stick. Prisonei's and slaves are
marshalled in line with tho stick. Tlie stick is to-day ilso the
one visible and prevalent charajteristic of tlie government of
Egypt. And I think that it is a notion among the subject
classes, that a beating is now and then good for them. They
might feel neglected without it. I cannot find that Egypt was
ever governed in any other way than on the old plan of force
and fear.

If there is anything that these officers and sailors do not un-
derstand, it is the management of a Nile boat. But this ia
anticipating. Just now all goes as merrily as a colored ball.
The night is soft, the moon Ls half full ; the river spreads out
in shining shallows ; tho shores are dim and show lines of
feathery palms against the sky ; we meet or pass white sails
which flaijh out of the dimness and th^n vanish ; the long line
of pyramids of Sakkara is outlined beyond the palms ; now
there is a light on shore, and a voice or the howling of a dog is
heard ; aloDg the bank by the ruins of 3ld Memphis a jackal
inins barking in the moonlight. By half-past nine we are
abreast the pyramids of Dashoor. A couple of dahabeehs are
laid up below for the night, and the lights from their rows of
cabin windows gleam cheerfully on the water.

We go right on, holding our way deeper and deeper into this
enchanted country. The night is simply superb, such a wide
horizon, such brilliancy above ! Under the night, the boat
glides like a phantom ship ; it is perfectly steady, and we
should not know we were in motion but for the running ripple
at the sides. By this lulling sound we sleep, having come, for
once in the world, into a country of tranquillity, where nothing
need ever be done till to-morrow, for to-morrow is certain to be
like to-day.

When we came on deck at eight o'clock in the morning after
" flying " all night as on birds' wings, we found that we had
made thirty-five miles, and were almost abreast of the False
Pyramid of Maydoon, so called because it is supposed to be
built about a rook ; a crumbled pyramid but curiously con-

ii6

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

& ; "'

M. ■• i

I: I' «

It 3

structed, and perhaps older than that of Cheops. From a tomb
in the necropolis here caroe the two life-size and striking figures
that are in the Boulak Museum in Cairo. The statues, carved
in calcareous limestone, represent two exceedingly respectable
and intelligent looking persons, who resemble each other enough
to be brother and s^'ster ; they were probably alive in the third
dynasty. They sit up now, with La,nds on knees, having a
bright look on their faces as if they hadn't winked in five
thousand years, and were expecting company.

I said v/-e were " flying " all night. This needs qualification.
",Ve went aground three times and spent a good part of the
night in getting off. It is the most natural thing in navigation.
"We are conscious of a slight grating, then a gentle lurch, not
enough to disturb a dream, followed, however, by a step on
deck, and a jabber of voices forward. The sail is loosed ; the
poles are taken from the rack and an effort is made to shove off
by the use of some muscle and a good deal of chorus ; when
thi" fails the crew jump overboard and we hear them splashing
along the side. They put their backs to the boat and lift, with
a gi'unting " JHuJt-hk, euh-he," which changes into a rapid "halee,
halee, halee," as the boat slides off; and the crew scramble on
board to haul tight the sail with an emphatic " Yah ! Moham/w^c?,
Yah ! Mohammec?."

We were delayed some hours altogether, we learn. But it
was not delay. There can' be no delay on this voyage ; lor
there is no one on board who is in any haste. Are we not the
temporary owners of this boat, and entirely irresponsible for
any accident, so that if it goes down with all on board, and
never oomes to port, no one can hold us for damages 1

The day is before us, and not only the day, but. Providence
permitting, a winter of days like iti There is nothing to be
done, and yet we are too busy to read even the guide-book.
There is everything to be seen ; it is drifting past us, we are
gliding away from it. It is all old and absolutely novel. If
this is laziness that is stealing over us, it is of an alert sort. In
the East, laziness has the more graceful title of resignation ;
but we have not come to that condition even ; curiosity is con-
stantly excited, and it is a sort of employment to breathe this
inspiring air.

We are spectators of a pageant that never repeats itself; for

ON THE NILE.

117

although there is a certain monotony in the character of the
river and one would think that its narrow strips of arable land
would soon be devoid of interest, the scenes are never twice
alike. The combinations vary, the desert comes near and
recedes, the mountains advance in bold precipices or fall away ;
the groups of people, villages, trees, are always shiftirg.

And yet, in fact, the scenery changes little during the day.
There are great reaches of ri\er, rapidly flowing, and wide
bends across which we see vessels sailing as if in the meadows.
The river is crowded all day with boats, pleasure dahabeiihs,
and trading vessels uncouth and picturesque. The passenger
dahabeeh is long, handsomely painted, carries an enormous sail
on its long yard, has a national flag and a long streamer ; and
groups of white people sit on deck, under the awning ; some of
them are reading, some sketching, and now and then a man
rises and discharges his shot-gun at a flock of birds a half a
mile beyond its range.

The boats of African traders are short, high-pooped, and have
the rudder stepped out behind. They usually carry no flag, and
are dirty and lack paint, but they carry a load that would in-
terest the most hlasp, European. Those bound up stream, under
full sail, like ourselves, are piled with European boxes and
bales, from stem to stem, and on top of the freight, in the
midst of the freight, sitting on it, stretched out on it, peeping
from it, is another cargo of human beings, men, women and
children, black, yellow, clothed in all the hues of heaven and
the rags cf earth. It is an impassive load that stares at us
with incurious, unwinking eyes.

The trading ooats coming down with the current are even
moie strange and barbarous. They are piled with merchandise,
but of a different sort. The sails and yards are down, and the
long sweeps are in motion, balanced on outriggers, for the for-
ward deck is filled, and the rowers walk on top of the goods as
they move the oars to and fro. How black the rowers are !
How black everybody on board is ! They come suddenly upon
us, like those nations we have read of, who sit in great dark-
ness. The rowers are stalwart fellows whose basalt backs shine
in the sun as they bend to the oar ; in rowing they walk
towards the cabin and pull the heavy oars as they step back-
wai'ds, and every sweep is accompanied by the burst of a refrain

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

i» i

If I

in chorus, a wild response to a line that has been chanted by the
leader as they stepped forwards. The passengers sit immove-
able in the sun and regard us with a calmness and gravity
which are only attainable near the equatorial regions, where
tilings approach an equilibrium.

Sometimes we count nearly one hundred dahabeehb m s%ht,
each dipping or veering or turning in the sun its bird-wing sail —
the most graceful in the world. A person with fancies, who is
watching them, declares that the triangular sails resemble quills
cut at the top for pens, and that the sails, seen over the tongue
of land of a long bend ahead, look like a procession of goose
quills.

The day is warm enough to call out all the birds : flocks of
wild geese clang overhead, and companies of them, ranks on
ranks, stand on the low sand-dunes; there are pelicans also,
motionless in the shallow water near the shore, meditating like
a derweesh or one leg, and not caring that the thermometer does
mark 74°. Little incidents entertain us. We like to pass the
dongola, flying " Ohio " from its yard, which took advantage
of our stopping for milk early in the morning to go by us. We
overhaul an English boat and have a mildly exciting race with
her till dark, with varying fortune, the boats being nearly a
match, and the victory depending upon some trick or skill on
the part of the crew. All the party look at us, in a most un-
sympathetic manner, through goggles, which the English always
put on whenever they leave the twilight of EnglaLd, I do not
know that we have any right to complain of this habit of wear-
ing wire eye-screens and goggles ; persons who have it mean no
harm by it, and their appearance is a source of gratification to
others. But I must say that goggles have a different effect in
different lights. When we were sailing slowly past the English-
man, the goggles regarded us with a feeble and hopeless look.
But when the Englishman was, in turn, drawing ahead of us,
the goggles had a glare of "Who the devil are youl" Of
course it was only in the goggles. For I have seen many of
these races on the Nile, and passengers always affect an extreme
indifference, leaving all demonstrations of intrrost to the crews
of the boats.

The two banks of the river keep all day about the same
relative character — ^the one sterile, the other rich. On the east,

ON THE NILE.

119

lisb

jme

tewB

ime
last.

the brown sand licks down p-lmost to the water ; there is only a
strip of green ; there are few tiees, and habitations only at long
intervals. Only a little distance back are the Mokattara hills,
which keep a rarely broken and level sky-line for two hundred
and fifty miles south of Cairo.

The west side is a broad valley. The bank is high and con-
tinually caving in, like the alluvial bottoms of the Missouri ; it
is so high that from our deck we can see little of the land. There
are always, however, palm-trees in sight, massed in groves,
standing in lines, or waving their single tufts in the blue. These
are the date -pal m;j, which have no branches on their long poles;
each yrjar the old stalks are cut off for fuel, and the trunk, a
mass of twisted fibres, comes to have a rough bark, as if the
tree had been shingled the wrong way. Stiff in form and with
only the single crown of green, I cannot account for its effect of
grace and beauty. It is the life of the Nile, as the Nile is life
to it. It bears its annual crop of fruit to those who want it,
and a crop of taxes for the Khedive. Every palm pays in fact
a poll-tax, whether it brings forth dates or not.

Where the bank slopes we can see the springing wheat and
barley darkly grpen ; it is sown under the palms even, for no
foot of ground is left vacant. All along the banks are shadoofs,
at which men in black stand all day raising water, that flows
back in regulated streams ; for the ground falls slightly away
from the height of the bank, ^.t intervals appears a little col-
lection of mud hovels, dumped together without so much plan
as you would find in a beaver settlement, but called a village,
and having a mud minaret and perhaps a dome. An occasional
figure is that of a man ploughing with a single ox ; it iias just the
stiff square look of the sculptures in the tombs.

Now and then, where a zig-zag path is cut, or the bank
slopes, women are washing clothes in the river, or groups of
them are filling their water jars. They come in files from the
villages and we hear theit shrill voices in incessant chatter.
These countrywomen are invariably in black or dark brown ;
they are net veiled, bui draw their head shawl over the face as
our boat passes. Their long gowns are drawn up, exposing
bare feet and legs as they st«p into the stream. The jars are
large and heavy when unfilled, and we marvel how they can
raise them to their heads when they are full of water. The

wmoBBBBrnm^.

120

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

woman drags her jar out upon the sand, oquats before it, lifts it
to her head with her hands, and then rises steadily and walks
up the steep bank and over the sand, holding her robe with one
hand and steadying the jar with the other, with perfect grace
and ease of motion. The strength of limbs required to raise
that jar to the head and then rise with it, ought to be calculated
by those in our own land who are striving to xmprove the con-
dition of w^oman.

We are still flying along with the unfailing wind, and the
merry progress communicates its spirit to the crew. Before sun-
set they get out their musical instruments, and squatting in a
circle on the forward deck, prepare to enjoy themselves. One
thumps and shakes the tambourine, one softly beats with his
lingers the darabooka drum, and another rattles castanets. All
who are not so employed beat time by a jerking motion of the
raised hands, the palms occasionally coming together when the
rhythm is properly accented. The leader, who has a very good
tenor voice, chants a minor and monotonous love song to which
the others respond either in applause of the sentiment or in a
burst of musical enthusiasm which they cannot contain. Ahmed,
the Nubian, whose body is full of Congoism, enters into it with
a delightful ahamdoUf swaying from side to side and indulging
?.n an occasional shout, as if he were at a camp meeting. His
ugly and good-natured face beams with satisfaction, an expres-
sion that is only slightly impaired by the vacant place whei'e
two front teeth ought to shine. The song is rude and barbarous
but not without a certain plaintiveness ; the song and scene
belong together. In this manner the sailors of the ancient
Egyptians an sjed themselves without doubt ; their instruments
were the same; thus they sat upon the ground, thus they
clapped hands, thus they improvised ejaculations to the absent
beloved : —

"The night I The night ! thou with sweet hands !

Holding the dewy peach."

The sun goes down, leaving a rosy color in the sky, that
changes into an ashes-of-roses color, that gradually fades into
the indefinable softness of night punctured with stars.

We are booming along all night, under the waxing moon.
This is not so much a voyage as a flight, chased by the north

ON THE NILE.

121

that
into

wind. The saU is always set, the ripples are running always
along the sides, the shores slide by as in a dream ; the reis is at
the bow, the smUing steersman is at the helm ; if we were
enchanted we could not go on more noisela^Jsly. There is some-
thing ghostly about this night-voyage through a land so im-
perfectly defined to the senses, but so crowded with history. If
only the dead who are buried on these midnight shores were to
rise, we should sail tlyough a vast and ghastly concourse pack-
ing the valley and stretching away into the desert.

About midnight I step out of the cabin to look at the night.
I stumble over a sleeping Arab. Tv, o sailors, set to hold the
sail-rope and let it go in case of a squall of wind, are nodding
over it. The night is not at all gloomy or mysterious, but in
all the broad sweep of it lovely and full of mvitation. We are
jufc,t passing the English dahabeeh, whose great sail is dark as
we approach, and then takes the moon full upon it as we file
abreast. She is hugging the bank and as we go by there is a
snap. In the morning Abd-el-Atti says that she broke the tip
of her yard against the bank. At any rate she lags behind like
a crippled bird.

In the morning we are in sight of four da'habeehs, but we
overhaul and pass them all. We have contracted a habit of
doing it. One of them gets her stern-sprit knocked oflF as she
sheers before us, whereupon the sailors exchange compliments,
and our steersman smiles just as he would have done if he had
sent the Prussian boat to the bottom. The morning is delicious,
not a cloud in the sky, and the thermometer indicating a tem-
perature of 56° ; this moderates speedily under the sun, but if
you expected an enervating climate in the winter on the Nile
you will be disappointed ; it is on the contrary inspiring.

We pass the considerable town of Gol6saneh, not caring very
much about it ; we have been passing towns and mounds and
vestiges of ancient and many times dug up civilizations, day and
night. We cannot bother with every ash-heap described in the
guide-book. Benisooef, which has been for thousands of years
an enterprising city, we should like to have seen, but we went
by in the night. Acd at night most of these towns are as black
as the moon vrill let them be, lights being very rare. We usually
receive from them only the salute of a barking dog. Inland
from Goldsaneh rises the tall and beautiful minaret of Semaloot,

123

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

a very pretty sight above the palm-groves ; so a church spire
might rise out of a Connecticut meadow. At 10 o'clock we
draw near the cliffs of Gebel e* Tayr, upon the long flat 3ummit
of which stands the famous Coptic convent of Sitteh Miriam el
Adra, " Our Lady Mary the Virgin," — called also Dayr el
Adra.

We are very much interested in the Copts, and are glad of
the opportunity to see something of the practice of their religion.
For the religion is as peculiar as the race. In fact, the more
one considers the Copt, the more difficult it is to define him.
He is a descendant of the ancient Egyptians, it is admitted, and
he retains the cunning of the ancients in working gold and
silver; but his blood is crossed with Abyssinian, Nubian,
Greek and Arab, until the original is lost, and to-day the repre-
sentatives of the pure old Egyptian type of the sculptures are
found among the Abyssinians and the Noobeh (genuine Nu-
bians) more frequently than among the Copts. The Copt usually
wears a black or brown turban or cap ; but if he wore a white
one it would be difficult to tell him from a Moslem. The Copts
universally use Arabic ; their ancient language is practically
dead, although their liturgy and some of their religious books
are written in it. The old language is supposed to be the
spoken tongue of the old Egyptians.'

The number of Christian Copts in Egypt is small — but still
large enough; they have been persecuted out of existence, or
have voluntarily accepted Mohammedanism and married among
the faithful. The Copts in religion are seceders from the
orthodox Church, and their doctrine of the Trinity was con-
demned by the council of Chalcedon ; they consequently hate
the Greeks much more than they hate the Moslems. They
reckon St. Mark their first patriarch.

Their religious practice is an odd jumble of many others.
Most of them practice circumcision. The baptism of infants is
held to be necessary ; for a child dying unbaptized will be blind
in the next life. Their fasts are long and strict ; in their
prayers they copy both Jews and Moslems, praying often and
with endless repetitions. They confess before taking the sacra-
ment; they abstain from swine's flesh, and make pilgrimages
to Jerusalem. Like the Moslems they put off their shoes on
entering the place of worship, but they do not behave there

L-i >.

m 1:1

ON THE NILE.

123

•a-
es

with the deconim of the Moslom ; they stand alwayn in the
church, and as the service is three or four hours long, beginning
often at daybreak, the long staff or crutch upon which they
lean is not a useless appendage. The patriarch, who dwells in
Cairo, is not, I think, a person to be envied. He must be a
monk originally and remain unmarried, and this is a country
where marriage is so prevalent. Besides this, he is obliged to
wear always a woollen garment next the skin, an irritation in
this climate more constant than matrimony. And report says
chat he lives under rules so rigid that he is obliged to be waked
up, if he sleeps, every fifteen minutes. I am inclined to think,
however, that this is a polite way of saying that the old man
has a habit of dropping off to sleep every quarter of an hour.

The cliffs of Gebel e' Tayr are of soft limestone, and seem to
be two hundred feet high. In one place a road is cut down to
the water, partly by a zig-zag covered gallery in the face of the
rock, and this is the usual landing-place for the convent. The
convent, which is described as a church under ground, is in the
midst of a mud settlement of lay brothers and sisters, and the
whole is surrounded by a mud wall. From below it has the
appearance of an earthwork fortification. The height commands
the river for a long distance up and down, and from it the
monks are on the lookout for the dahabeehs of travellers. It
is their habit to plunge into the water, clothed only with
their professions of holiness, swim to the boats, climb on board
and demand " backsheesh" on account of their religion.

It is very rough as we approach the cliffs, the waves are high,
and the current is running strong. We fear we are to be dis-
appointed, but the monks are superior to wind and waves.
While we are yet half a mile off, I see two of them in the
water, with their black heads under white turbans, bobbing
about in the tossing and muddy waves. They make heroic
efforts to reach us ; we can hear their voices faintly shouting :
Aim CJwistiany Howadji, " I am a Christian, O! Howadji."

" We have no doubt you are exceptional Christians," we
shout to them in reply, *' Why don't you come aboard — back-
shee-e-s-h ?"

They are much better swimmers than the average Christian
with us. But it is in vain. They are swept by us and away
from us like corks on the angry waves, and even their hail of

124

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

1 I

I [

i' 1

Christian fellowship is lost in the whistling wind. When we
are opposite the convent another head is seen bobbing abont in
the water ; he is also swept below us, but three-quarters of a
mile down stream he effects a landing on another dahabeeh.
As he climbs into the jolly-boat, which is towed behind, and
stands erect, he resembles a statue in basalt.

It is a great feat to swim in a current so awift as this, and
lashed by such a wind. I should like to have given these
monks something, if only to encourage so robust a religion. But
none of them succeeded in getting on board. Nothing happens
to us as to other travellers, and we have no opportunity to make
the usual remarks upon the degraded appearance of these Coptic
monks at Dayr el Adra. So far as I saw them they were very
estimable people.

At noon we are driving past Minieh with a strong wind. It
appears to be — but if you were to land you would find that it
is not — a handsome town, for it has two or three graceful
minarets, and the long white buildings of the sugar factory,
with its tall chimneys, and the palace of the Khedive, stretch-
ing along the bank, give it an enterprising and cheerful aspect.
This new palace of his Highness cost about half a million of
dollars, and it is said that he has never passed a night in it. I
confess I rather like this; it must be a royal sensation to be
able to order houses made like suits of clothes without ever
even trying them on. And it is a relief to see a decent build-
ing and a garden now and then, on the river.

We go on, however, as if we were running away from the
sheriff, for we cannot afford to lose the advantage of such a
wind. Along the banks the clover is growing sweet and green
as in any New England meadow in May, and donkeys are
browsing in it, tended by children ; a very pleasant sight to see
this ill-used animal for once in clover and trying to bury his
long ears in luxury. Patches of water-melon plants are fenced
about by low stockades of dried rushes stuck in the sand — for
the soil looks like sand.

This vegetation is not kept alive, however, without constant
labor ; weeds never gi'ow, it is true, but all green things would
speedily wither if the shadoofs were not kept in motion, pouring
the Nile into the baked and thirsty soil.

ON THE NILE.

»25

the
ich a
1 green
rs are
Ito see
y his
lenced
] — for

istant

rould

kiiring

These simple contrivances for irrigation, iinclianged since the
tiw'> of the Pharaohs, have ah-eady been described. Here two
tiers are required to lift the water to the level of the fields ;
the first dipping takes it into a canal parallel with the bank,
and thence it is raised to the top. Two men are dipping the
leathern buckets at each machine, and the constant bending
down and lifting up of their dark bodies are fatiguing even to
the spectator. Usually in barbarous countries one pities the
woman ; but I suppose this is a civilized region, for here I pity
the men. The women have the easier tasks of washing clothes
in the coo' stream, or lying in the sand. The women all over
the East have an unlimited capacity for sitting motionless all
day by a running stream or a pool of water.

In the high wind the palm-trees are in constant motion, tossing
their feather tufts in the air; some of them are blown like an
umbrella turned wrong side out, and a grove presents the ap-
pearance of a crowd of people overtaken by a sudden squall.
The acacia tree, which the Arabs call the sorit, the acanthus of
Strabo (Mimosa Nilotica) begins to be seen with the pylm. It
is a thorny tree, with small yellow blossoms, and bears a pod.
But what interests us most is the gum that exudes from its
bark ; for this is the real Gum Arabic ! That Heaven has been
kind enough to let us see that mysterious gum manufacturing
itself ! The Gum Arabic of our childhood. How often have I
tried to imagine the feelings of a distant and unconverted boy
to whom Gum Arabic was as common as spruce gum to a New
England lad.

As I said, we go on as if we were evading the law ; our
dahabeeh seems to have taken the bit in its teeth and Is run-
ning away with us. We pass everything that sails, and begin
to feel no pride in doing so ; it is a matter of course. The
other dahabeehs are left behind, some with broken yards. I
heard reports afterwards that we broke their yards, and that
we even drowned a man. It is not true. We never drowned
a man, and never wished to. We were attending to our own
affairs. The crew were busy the first day or two of the voyage
in cutting up their bread and spreading it on the upper deck
to dry — heaps of it, bushels of it. It is a black bread, made
of inferior unbolted wheat, about as heavy as lead, and sour to

126

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

the imoducatod taHte. Tho Figyi)tians like it, however, and it
is Haid to bo very healthful. The men gnaw cliiinkH of it with
reliHh, but it i8 usually prepared for eating by first soaking it
in Nile-water and warming it o\'er a tiro, in a big copper dish.
Into the " stodge " thus made are sometimes thrown some
" gi-eens " snatched from the shore. The crew seat themselves
about this dish when it is ready, and each one dips his right
hand into the mass and claws out a mouthful. The dish is
always scraped clean. Meat is very rarely had by them, only
a few times during the whole voyage ; but they vary their diet
by eating green beans, lettuce, onions, lentils, and any sort of
" greens " they can lay hands on. The meal is cooked on a lit-
tle fire built on a pile of Ft( nes near the mast. When it is
finished they usually gather about the fire for a pull at the
" hubble-bubble." This is a sort of pipe with a cocoa-nut shell
filled with water, through which the smoke passes. Usually a
lump of hasheesh is put into the bowl with the tobacco. A.
pufi" or two of this mixture is enough ; it sets the smoker cough-
ing and conveys a pleasant stupor to his brain. Some of the
crew never smoke it, but content themselves with cigarettes.
And the cigarettes they are always rolling up and smoking
while they are awake.

The hasheesh-smokers are alternately elated and depressed,
and sometimes violent and noisy. A man addicted to the habit
is not good for much ; the hasheesh destroys his nerves and
brain, and finally induces idiocy. Hasheesh intoxication is the
most fearful and prevalent vice in Egypt. The government
has made many attempts to stop it, but it is too firmly fixed ;
thenise of hasheesh is a temporary refuge from poverty, hunger,
and all the ills of life, and appears to have a stronger fascination
than any other indulgence. In all the towns one may see the
dark little shops where the drug is administered, and generally
rows of victims in a stupid doze stretched on the mud benches.
Sailora are so addicted to hasheesh that it is almost impossible
to make up a decent crew for a dahabeeh.

Late in the afternoon we are passing the famous rock-tombs
of Beni Hassan, square holes cut in the face of the cliff, high
up. With our glasses we can see paths leading to them over
the debris and along the ledges. There are two or three rows

ON THE NILE.

127

[ombs
higk
over

Irows

of theHe tombs, on diffcront ledges ; they Heem to be hi«;h, dry,
and airy, and F should ratlier livo in th<Mn, dead or alive, than
in the mnd hovels of the fellaheen b<»low. These j)laces of
sepulchre are older than those at Thebes, and from the pictures
and sculptures in them, more than from any others, the anti-
quarians have reconstructed the domestic life of tlie ancient
Egyptians. This is a desolate si)ot now ; there is a decayed old
mud village Ih^Iow, and a little south of it is the new town ;
both can barely be distinguished from the brown sand and rock
in which and in front of which they stand. This is a good
place for thieves, or was before Ibraheem Pasha destroyed
these two villages. We are warned that this whole country
produces very skilful robbers, who will swim off and glean the
valuables from a dahabeeh in a twinkling.

Notwithstanding the ^tiff breeze the thermometer marks 74" ;
but both wind and temperature sink with the sun. Before the
sun sets, however, we are close under the ea.st bank, and are
watching the play of light on a magnificent palm-grove, beneath
which stand the huts of the modem village of Sheykh Abadeh.
It adds romance to the loveliness of the scene to know that this
is the site of ancient Antinoe, built by the Emperor Adrian.
To be sure we didn't know it till this moment, but the traveller
warms up to a fact of thisikind immediately, and never betrays
even to his intimate friends that he is not drawing upon his in-
exhaustible memory.

"That is the ancient Ajitinoe, built by Adrian."

Oh, the hypocrisy and deceit of the enthusiastic.

"IsitV

" Yes, and handsome Antinoiia was drowned here in the
Nile."

" Did they recover his bodyl"

Upon the bank there are more camels, dogs, and donkeys
than we have seen all day ; buffaloes are wallowing in the
muddy margin. They are all in repose ; the dogs do not bark,
and the camels stretch their necks in a sort of undulatory ex-
pression of discontent, but do not bleat, or roar, or squawk, or
make whatever the unearthly noise which they make is called.
The men and the women are crouching in the shelter of their
mud walls, with the light of the setting sun upon their dark

128

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

!
i

faces. Thoy drnw thoir wrapH closer about tliem to proUwt
themselveH from the north wind, and regard uh Htolidly and
without intereHt an we go by. And when the light fades, what
in there for thenil No cheerful lamp, no book, no nowHpai>or.
They Himply crawl into their kennels and sleep the sleep of
"inwardness" and peace.

Just here the arable land on the oast bank is broader than
usual, and there was evidently a tine city built on the edge of
the desert behind it. The Egyptians always took wjiste and
desert lar d for dwellings and for burial-places, leaving every
foot of soil available for cultivation free. There is evidence all
along here of a once much larger population, though 1 doubt if
the east bank of the river was ever much inhabited. The
river banks would support many more people than we find here
if the land were cultivated with any care. Its fertility, with
the annual deposit, is simply inexhaustible, and it is good for
two and sometimes three crops a year. But we pass fields now
and then that are abandoned, and others that do not yield half
what they might. The people are oppressed with taxes and
have no inducemett to raise more tl\an is absolutely necessary
to keep them alive But I suppose this has always been the
case in Egypt. The masters have squeezed the last drop from
the people, and anything like an accumulation of capital by the
laborers is unknown. Th e Romans used a long rake, with tine
and sharp teeth, and I have no doubt that they scraped the
country as clean as the present government does.

The government has a very simple method of adjusting its
taxes on land an ' crops. They are based upon the extent of
the inundation. 'jO many feet rise, overflowing such an area,
will give such a return in crops ; and tax on this product can
be laid in advance as accurately as when the crops are hai'vest-
ed. Nature is certain to do her share of the work ; there will
be no frost, nor any rain to spoil the harvest, nor any freakish-
ness whatever on the part of the weather. If the harvest is
not up to the estimate, it is entirely the fault of the laborer,
who has inadequately planted or insufliciently watered. In the
same manner a tax is laid upon each palm-tree, and if it does
not bear fruit that is not the fault of the government.

There must be some satisfaction in farming on the Nile, You

ON THE NILE.

129

and
what
>apor.
iep of

than
Ige of
tj and
every
ice all
Dubt if
The
d here
r, with
x)d for
da now
lid half
es and
cesHary
sen the
p from

by the
Lth fine
ed the

ing its
tent of
tn area,
uct can
larvest-
Bre will
"eakish-
rvest ia

aborer,
Intbe

it does

i. You

are alwavH certain of the restilt of your labor.* Whereas, in
our country farming is the merest lottery. The scaaon will
open too wet or too dry, the seed may rot in the ground, the
young plant may be nipped with frost or grow pale for want of
rain, the crop runs the alternate liazards of drought or floc^H,
it is wasted by rust or devoured by worms ; and, to cap the
climax, if the harvest is abundant an<l of goo<l quality, the
price goes down to an unremunerative figure. In Egypt you
may scratch the groinid, put in the seed, and then go to slo'jp
for three months, in {)erfect certainty of a good harvest, if only
the shadoof and the sakiya are kept in motion.

By eight o'clock in the evening, on a failing wind, we are
passing Roda, whose tall chimneys have been long in sight.
Here is one of the largest of the Khedive's sugar-factories, and
a new palace which has never been occuj)ied. We are one
hundred and eighty-eight miles from Cairo, and have made this
distance in two days, a speed for which I suppose history has
no parallel ; at least our dragoman says that such a run has
never been made before at this time of the year, and we arc
quite willing to believe a statement which reflects so much
honor upon ourselves, for choosing such a boat and such a
dragoman.

This Nile "^'oyage is nothing, after all ; its length has been
greatly overestimated. We shall skip up the river and back

*It should be said, however, that the ancient Egyptians found the
agricufturai conditions beset with some vexations. A papyrus in the
British Museum contains a correspondence between Ameneman, the
hbrarian of llameses II, and his pupil Pentaour, who wrote the cele-
brated epic upon the exploits of tnat king on the river Orontes. One
of the letters describes the life of the agricultural people : — " Have you
ever conceived what sort of life the peasant leads who cultivates the
■oil ? Even before it is ripe, insects destroy part of his harvest. .
Multitudes of rats are in the field ; next come invasions of locusts, cat-
tle ravage his harvest, sparrows alight in flocks on his sheaves. If he
delays to get in his harvest, robbers come to carry it off with them ; his
horse dies of fatigue in drawing the plough ; the tax-collector arrives in
the district, and has with him men armed with sticks, negroes with
palm- branches. All say, 'Give us of your corn,' and he has no means
of escaping their exactions. Next the unfortunate wretch is seized,
bound, and carried off by force to work on the canals ; his wife is bound,
his children are stripped. And at the same time his neighbors have each
of them his own trouble."

130

MUMMIES ANI> MOSLEMS.

again before the season is half spent, and have t. go somewhere
else for the winter. A man feels all-powerful, so long as the
wind blows ; but let his sails collapse, and there is not a more
crest-fallen creature. Night and day our sail has been full, and
we are puffed up with pride.

At this rate we shall hang out our colored lanterns at Thebes
on Christmas night.

CHAPTER XI.

PEOPLE ON THE RIVER BANKS.

^HE morning puts a new face on our affairs. It is Sun-
day, and the most devout could not desire a quieter day.
There is a thick fog on the river, and not breeze enough
stirring to show the stripes on our flag ; the boat holds its own
against the current by a soi t of accunnulated impulse. During
the night we may have made five miles altogether, and now we
barely crawl. We have run our race ; if we have not come
into a haven, we are at a stand-still, and it does not seem now
as if we ever should wake up and go on again. However, it is
just as well. Why should we be tearing through tb's sleepy
land at the rate of four miles an hour 1

The steersman half dozes at the helm ; the reis squats near
him watching the flapping sails ; the crew are nearly all asleep
on the forward deek, with their burnouses drawn over their
head and the feet bare, for it is chilly as late as nine o'clock,
and the thermometer has dropped to 64°. Abd-el-Atti slips his
beads uneasily along between his fingers, and remembers that
when he said that we * would reach Asioot in another day,
he forgot to ejaculate : " God willing." Yet he rises and greets
our coming from the cabin with a willing smile, and a —

" Morning, sir ; morning, marm. I hope you enjoyin' your
sleep, marm."

" Where are we now, Abd-el-Atti V

" Not much, marm ; this is a place call him Hadji Kandeel.
But we do very well ; I not to complain."

" Do you think we shall have any wind to-day 1 "

"Id' know, be sure. The wind come from Lord Not so 1"

Hadji Kandeel is in truth only a scattered line of huts, but
one lands here to visit the grottoes or rock-tombs of Tel el

132

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

]

Amdma. All this country is gaping -with tombs af parently ;
all the cliffs are cut into receptacles for the dead, all along the
margin of the desert on each side are old necropolises and
moslem cemeteries, in which generation after generation, for
almost fabulous periods of time, has been deposited, Heve
behind Hadji Kandeel are remains of a once vast city built let
us say sixteen hundred years before our era, by Amunoph IV.,
a wayward king of the eighteenth dynasty, and made the capital
of Egypt. In the grottoes of Tel el Amdma were deposited
this king and his court and favorites, and his immediate suc-
cessors — all the splendor of them sealed up there and forgotten.
This king forsook the worship of the gods of Thebes, and set up
that of a Semitic deity, Aten, a radiating disk, a sun with rays
terminating in human hands. It was his moth ^r v led him
intC' this, and she was not an Egyptian ; neither u/q -.^a /eatures
of the persons sculptured in the grottoes Egyptian.

Thus all along the stream of Egyptian history cross currents
are coming in, alien sovereigns and foreign task-masters ; and
great breaks appear, as if one full civilization had run its course
of centuries, and decay had come, and then ru^ix, and then a new
start and a fresh career.

Early this morning, when we were close in to the west bank,
I heard measured chanting, and saw a procession of men and
women coming across the field. The men bore on a rude bier
the body of a child. They eame straight on to the bank, and
then turned by the flank with military precision and marcl ^d
up-stream to the place where a clumsy country ferry-boo,' , .^ 1
just landed. The chant of the men, as they walked, was Ur^ ^
voiced and solemn, and I could hear in it frequently repeate.
the name of Mohammod. The women in straggling file followed,
like a sort of ill-omened birds in black, and ohe noise they
made, a kind of waii, was exactly like the cackle of wild geese.
Indeed before I saw the procession I thought that some geese
were flying overhead.

The body was laid on the ground and four men kneeled upon
the bank as if in prayer. The boat meantime was unloading,
men, women and children scrambling over the sfdes into the
shallow water, and the donkeys, urged with blows, juiiiping
after them. When they were all out the funeral took possession
of the boat, and was slowly wafted across, as dismal a going to

PEOPLE ON THE RIVER BANKS.

133

a funeral as if this were the real river of death. When the
mourners had landed we saw them walking under the palm
trees, to the distant burial-place in the desert, with a cer!»in
solemn dignity, and the chanting and wailing were borne to us
very distinctly.

It is nearly a dead calm all day, and our progress might be
imperceptible to an eye naked, and certainly it must be so to
the eyes of these natives which are full of flies. It grows warm,
however, and is a summer temperature when we go ashore in
the afternoon on a tour of exploration. We have for attendant,
Ahmed, who carries a big stick as a defence against dogs.
Ahmed does not differ much in appearance from a wild bar-
barian, his lack of a complete set of front teeth alone preventing
him froni looking tierce. A towel is twisted about his head,
feet and 1^ are bare, and he wears a blue cotton robe with full
sleeves longer than his arms, gathered at the waist by a piece
of rope, and falling only to the knees. A nice person to go
walking with on the Holy Sabbath.

The whole land is gi*een with young wheat, but the soil is
baked and cracked three or four inches deep, even close to the
shore where the water has only receded two or or three days
ago. The land stretches for several miles, perfectly level and
every foot green and smiling, back to the desert hills. Sprinkled
over this expanse, which is only interrupted by ditches
and slight dykes upon which the people walk from village to
village, are frequent small groves of palms. Each grove is the
nucleus of a little settlement, a half dozen sun-baked habita-
tions, where people, donkeys, pigeons, and smallt/ sorts of ani-
mated nature live together in dirty amity. The general plan
of building is to erect a circular wall of clay six or seven feet
high, which dries, hardens, and cracks in the suii. This is the
Oriental court. Inside this and built against the wall is a low
mud-hut with a wooden door, and perhaps here and there ure
two similar huts, or half a dozen, according to the size of the
family. In these hovels the floor i« of smooth earth, there is a
low bedstead or some matting laid in one comer, but scarcely
any other furniture, except some earthen jars holding doora or
dried fruit, and a few cooking utensils. A people who never
sit, except on their heels, do not need chairs, and those who
wear at once aJi %h^ clothes they possess need no closets or

134

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

wardrobes. I looked at first for a place where they could keep
their " Sunday clothes" and " nice things," but this philoso-
phical people do not have anything that is too good for daily
use. It is nevertheless true that there is no hope of a people
who do not have " Sunday clothes."

The inhabitants did not, however, appear conscious of any
such want. They were lounging about or squatting in the dust
in picturesque idleness ; the children under twelve years often
without clothes and not ashamed, and the women wearing no
veils. The women are coming and going with the heavy water-
jars, or sitting on the ground, sorting doora and preparing it for
cooking ; not prepossessing certainly, in their black or dingy
brown gowns and shawls of cotton. Children abound. In all
the fields men are at work, picking up the ground with a rude
hoe shaped like an adze. Tobacco plants have just been set out,
and water-melons carefully shaded from the sun by little tents
of rushes. These men are all fellaheen, coarsely and scantily
clad in brown cotton gowns, open at the breast. They are not
bad figures, better ^>han the women, but there is a hopeless
acceptance of the portion of slaves in their bearing. *.

We encountered a very diflferent race further from the
river, where we came ^^pon an encampment of Bedaween, or
desert Arabs, who hold themselves as much above the fella-
heen B» the poor white trash used to considei' itself above the
negroes in our Southern States. They pretend to keep their
blood pure by intermarrjdng only in desert tribes, and perhaps
it is pure ; so, I suppose, the Gipsies are pure blood enough,
but one would not like them for neighbors. These Bedaween,
according to their wandering and predatory habit, have dropped
down here from the desert to feed their little flock of black
sheep and give their lean donkeys a bite of grass. Their tents
are merely strips of coarse brown cloth, probably camel's hair,
like sacking, stretched horizontally over sticks driven into the
sand, so as to form a cover from the sun and a protection from
the north wind. Underneath them are heaps of rags, matting,
old clothes, blankets, mingled with cooking utensils and the
nameless and broken assortment that beggars usually lug about
with them. Hens and lambs are at home there, and dogs, a
omall, tawny, wolfish breed, abound. The Arabs are worthy of
their dwellings, a dirty, thievish Iqt to look at, but, as I said,

PEOPLE ON THE RIVER BANKS.

no doubt of pure blood, and having all the virtues for which
these nomads have been celebrated since the time when Jaoob
judiciously increased his flock at the expense of Laban.

A half-naked boy of twelve years escorts us to the bank of
the canal near which the tents are pitched, and we are met by
the sheykh of the tribe, a more venerable and courtly person
than the rest of these pure-blood masqueraders in rags, but not
a whit less dirty. The fellaheen had paid no attention to us ;
this sheykh looked upon himself as one of the proprietors of
this world, and bound to extend the hospitalities of this portion
of it to strangers. He received us with a certain formality.
When two Moslems meet there is no end to their formal salu-
tation and complimentary speeches, which may continue as long
as their stock of religious expressions holds out. The usual first
greeting is Eascdamn 'aleykoom "peace be on you ] " to which
the reply is ^Altykoom es-aalaam, " on you be peace." It is
said that persons of another religion, however, should never
make use of this salutation to a Moslem, and that the latter
should not and will not return it. But we were overflowing with
cliarity aud had do bigttry, and went through Egypt salaaming
rig^t and left, sometimes getting no reply and sometimes a
return, to our " peace be on you," of Wa-*aleykoom, " and on
you."

The salutations by gesture are as varied as those by speech.
When Abd-el-Atti walked in Cairo with us, he constantly
varied his gestures according to the rank of the people we met.
To an inferior he tossed ^ free salaam ; an equal he saluted by
touching with his right hand in one rapid motion his breas\
lips and head ; to a superior he made the same motion except
that his hand first made a dip down to his knees ; and when he
met a person of high rank the hand scooped down to the ground,
before it passed up to the head.

I flung a cheerful salaam at the sheykh and gave him the
Oriental salute, which he returned. We then shook hands,
and the sheykh kissed his after touching mine, a token of
friendship which I didn't know enough to imitate, not having
been brought up to kiss my own hand.

" Anglais or Francaise ] " asked the sheykh.

" No," I said, " Americans."

*• Ah," he ejaculated, throwing back his head with an aspira-
tion of relief, " Melicans ; tyeb (good)."

136

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

f''

I'W ^*

A ring of inquisitive Arabs gathered about us and were
specially inteiested in stutlying the features and costume of one
of our party ; the women, standing further off and remaining
closely veiled, kept their eyes fixed on her. The sheykli invited
us to sit and ha^e coffee, but tlie surroundings were not tempt-
ing to the appetite and we parted with profuse salutations. I
had it in mind to invite him to our American centennial ; I
should like to set him off against some of our dirty red brethren
of the prairies. I thought that if I could transport these Beda-
ween, tents, children, lank, veiled women, donkeys, and all to
the centennial grounds they would add a most interesting (if
unpleasant) feature. But, then, I reflected, what is a centen-
nial to this Bedawee whose ancestors were as highly civilized
as he is when ours were ^ /ading about the fens with the Angles
or burrowing in German forests. Besides, the Bedawee would
be at a disadvantage when away from the desert, or the bank
of this Nile whose unceasing flow symbolizes his tribal longevity.

As we walk along through the lush-fields which the despised
fellaheen are irritating into a fair yield of food, we are per-
plexed with the query, what is the use of the Bedaween in this
world 1 They produce nothing. To be sure they occupy a \X)r-
tion of the earth that no one else would inhabit ; they dwell on
the desert. But there is no need of any one dwelling on the
desert, especially as they have to come from it to levy contri-
butions on industrious folkss in order to live. At this stage of
the inquiry, the philosopher asks, what is the use of any one
living 1

As no one could answer this, we waded the water where it
was shallow and crossed to a long island, such as the Nile
frequently leaves in its sprawling course. This island was green
from end to end, and inhabited more thickly than the main-
land. We attracted a good deal of attention from the mud-
villages, and much anxiety was shown lest we should walk
across the wheat-fields. We expected that the dahabeeh would
Come and take us off, but its streamer did not advance, and we
were obliged to rewade the shallow channel and walk back to
the starting-place. There was a Sunday calm in the scene.
At the rosy sunset the broad river shone like a mirror and the
air T.'aM soft as June. How strong is habit. Work was
going on as usual, and there could have been up consent of sky,

'■ . If.

PEOPLE ON THE RIVER BANKS.

ri^

earth, and people, to keep Sunday, yet there seemed to be the
Bunday 8)>ell upon the laiidwcape. I auspecrt that people here
have got into the way of keeping all the days. The most strik-
ing way in which an American can keep Sunday on the Nile is
by not going gunning, not even taking a " iByer " at a hawk
from the deck of the dahabeeh. There is a chance for a tract
on this subject.

Let no one get the impression that we are idling away our
time, because we are on Monday morning exactly where we
were on Sunday morning. We have concluded to " keep "
another day. There is not a breath of wind to scatter the haze,
thermometer has gone down, and the sun's rays are feeble.
This is not our fault, and I will not conceal the adverse circum-
stances in order to give you a false impression of the Nile.

We are moored against the bank. The dragoman has gone
on shore to shoot pigeons and buy vegetables. Our turkeys,
which live in cages on the stern-deck, have gone ashore and are
strutting up and down the sand ; their gobble is a home sound
and recalls New England. Women, as usual, singly and in
groups, come to the river to fill their heavy water-jars. There
is a row of men and boys on the edge of the bank. Behind are
two camels yoked wide apart drawing a plough. Our crew chaff
the shore people. The cook says to a girl,

" You would make me a good wife ; we will take you along."
Men, squatting on the bank say, " take her along, she is of no
use."

Girl retorts, " You are not of more use than animals, you sit
idle all day, while I bring water and grind the corn."

One is glad to see this assertion of the rights of women in
this region where nobody has any rights ; and if we had a tract
we would leave it with her. Some good might be done by
travellers if they would distribute biscuit along the Nile, stamped
in Arabic with the words, " Man ought to do half the work,"
or, " Sistera rise !"

In the afternoon we explore, a large extent of country, my
companion carrying a shot-gun for doves. These doves are in
fact wild pigeons, a small and beautiful ijearly-grey bird. They
live on the tops of the houses in nests formed for them by the
insertion of tiles or earthen pots in the mud-walls. Many
hovw^^s have an upper stc.ry of this sort on purpose for the doves ;

138

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

■I

;i
'I

i '' ' ■

and a collection of mere mud-cabinB so ornamented is a pictur-
esque sight, under a palm-grove. Great flocks of these birds are
flying about, and the shooting is permitted, away from the
houses.

We make efibrts to get near the wild geese and the cranes,
great numbers of which are sunning themselves on the sand-
banks, but these birds know exactly the range of a gun, and fly
at the right moment. A row of cranes will sometimes trifle
with our feel'jigs. The one nearest will let us approach almost
within rangf/ before he lifts his huge wings and sails over the
river, the next one will wait for us to come a few steps further
before he flies, and so on until the sand-spit is deserted of these
long-legged useless birds. Hawks are flying about the shore
and great greyish crows, or ravens, come over the fields and
light on the margin of sand — a most gentlemanly looking bird,
who is under a :^ueer necessity of giving one hop before he can
raise himself in flight. Small birds, like sand-pipers, are
flitting about the bank. The most beautiful creature, however,
is a brown bird, his wing marked with white, long bill, head
erect and adorned with a high tuft, as elegant as the blue-jay ;
the natives call it the crocodile's guide.

We cross vast fields of wheat and of beans, the Arab " food,"
which are sown broadcast, interspersed now and then with a
melon-patch. Villages, such as they are, are frequent ; one of
them has a mosque, the only one we have seen recently. The
water for ablution is outside, in a brick tank sunk in the
ground. A row of men are sitting on their heels in front of the
mosque, smoking ; some of them in white gowns, and fine-look-
ing men. I hope there is some saving merit in this universal
act of sitting on the heels, the soles of the feet flat on the
ground ; it is not an easy thing for a Christian to do, as he will
find out by trying.

Towards night a steamboat flying the star and crescent of
Egypt, with passengers on board, some of " Cook's personally
conducted," goes thundering down stream, filling the air with
smoke and frightening the geese, who fly before it in vast
clouds. I didn't suppose there were so many geese in the world.

Truth requires it to be said that on Tuesday morning the
dahabeeh holds about the position it reached on Sunday morn-
ing ; we begin to think we are doing well not to lose anything

PEOPLE ON THE RIVER BANKS.

139

the
will

with
vast
orld.
th«
om-
hing

in this rapid current. The day is warm and cloudy, the wind
is from the east and then from the south-east, exactly the
direction we must go. It is in fact a sirocco, and tills one with
languor, which is better than being frost-bitten at home. The
evening, with the cabin windows all open, is like one of those
soft nights which come at the close of sultry northern days, in
which there is a dewy freshness. This is the sort of winter
that we ought to cultivate.

During the day we attempt tracking two or three times, but
with little success ; the wind is so strong that the boat is contin-
ually blown ashore. Tracking is not very hard for the passengers,
and gives them an opportunity to study the bank and the people
on it close at hand. A long cable fastened on the forward deck
is carried ashore, and to the far end ten or twelve sailors attach
themselves at intervals by short ropes which press across the
breast. Leaning in a slant line away from the river, they walk
at a snail's pace, a file of parti-colored raiment and glistening
legs ; occasionally bursting into a snatch of a song, they slowly
pull the bark along. But obstructions tc> progress are many.
A spit of sand will project itself, followed by deep water, through
which the men will have to wade in ordci to bring the boat
round ; occasionally the rope must be passed i ound trees which
overhang the caving bank ; and often freight-boats, tied to the
shore, must be passed. The leisure with which the line is
carried outside another boat is amusing even in this land of
deliberation. The groups on these boats sit impassive and look
at us with a kind of curiosity that has none of our eagerness in
it. The well-bred indifferent " stare " of these people, which is
not exactly brazen and yet has no element of emotion in it,
would make the fortune of a young fellow in a London season.
The Nubian boatmen who are tracking the freight-dahabeeh
appear to have left their clothes in Cairo ; they flop in and out
of the water, they haul the rope along the bank, without con-
sciousness apparently that any spectators are within miles ; and
the shore-life goes on all the same, men sit on the banks, women
come constantly to fill their jars, these crew stripped to their
toil excite no more attention than the occasional fish jumping
out of the Nile. The habit seems to be general of minding one's
own business.

At early morning another funeral crossed the river to a

140

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

desolate burial-place in the sand, the women wailing the whole
distance of the tnarch ; and the noise was more than before like
the clang of wild geese. These women have inherited the
Oriental art of " lifting up the voice," and it adds not a little
to the weirdness of this ululation and screeching to think that
for thousands of years the dead have been buried along this
valley with exactly the same feminine tenderness.

These women wear black ; all the countrywomen we have
seen are dressed in sombre gowns and shawls of dark or deep
blue-black ; none of them have a speck of color in their raiment,
not a bit of ribbon nor a bright kerchief, nor any relief to the
dullness of their apparel. And yet they need not fear to make
themselves too attractive. The men wear all the colors that are
worn ; though the fellaheen as a rule wear brownish garments,
bhie and white are not uncommon, and a white turban or a red
fez, or a silk belt about the waist gives variety and agreeable
relief to the costumes. In this these people imitate that nature
which we affect to admire, but outrage constantly. They imitate
the birds. The male birds have all the gay plumage ; the
feathers of the females are sober and quiet, as befits their
domestic position. And it mu^t be admitted that men need the
aid of gay dress more than women.

The next morning when the sun shows over the easte)'n
desert, the sailors are tracking, hauling the boat slowly along
an ox-bow in the river, until at length the sail can catch the
light west wind which sprang up with the dawn. When we
tetA that, the men scramble aboard, and the dahabeeh, like a
duck that has been loitering in an eddy for days, becomes instinct
with life and flies away to the cliffs opposite, the bluffs called
Gebel Aboofayda, part of the Mokattam range that here rises
precipitously from the river and overhangs it for ten or twelve
miles. I think these limestone ledges are two or three hundred
feet high. The face is scarred by the slow wearing of ages, and
worn into holes and caves innumerable. Immense numbers of
cranes are perched on the narrow ledges of th,3 cliff", and flocks
of them are circling in front of it, apparently having nests
there. As numerous also as swallows in a sand-bank is a species
of duck called the diver ; they float in troops on the stream, or
wheel about the roosting cranes.

This is a spot famed for its sudden gusts of wind which some-
times flop over the brink and overturn boats. It also is th^

■i i

PEOPLE ON THE RIVER BANKS.

141

resort of the crocodile, which seldom if ever comes lower down
the Nile now. But the crocodile is evidently shy of exhibiting
himself, and we scan the patches of sand at the foot of the rocks
with our glasses for a long time in vain. The animal dislikes
the putting, swasliing steamboats, and the rifle-balls that passing
travellers pester him with. At last we see a scaly log six or
eight feet long close to the water under the rock. By the aid of
the glass it turns out to be a crocodile. He is asleep, and too
far off to notice at all the volley of shot with which we salute
him. It is a great thing to say you saw a crocodile. It isn't
much to 8ee one.

And yet the scaly beast is an interesting and appropriate
feature in such a landscape, and the expectation of seeing a
crocodile adds to your enjoyment. On our left are these im-
pressive cliffs ; on the right is a level island. Half-naked boys
and girls are tending small flocks of black sheep on it. Abd-
el-Atti raises his gun as if he would shoot the children, and
cries out to them, " lift up your arm," words that the crocodile
hunter uses when he is near enough to fire, and wants to attract
^/he attention of the beast so that it will raise its fore-paw to
move off, and give the sportsman a charice at the vulnerable
bpot. The children understand the allusion, and run laughing
awav.

Groups of people are squatting on the ground, doing nothing,
waiting for nothing, expecting nothing ; buffaloes and cattle are
feeding on the thin grass, and camels are kneeling near in
stately indifference ; women in blue-black robes come — the
everlasting sight — to draw water. The whole passes in a dumb
show. The hot sun bathes all.

We pass next the late residence of a hermit, a Moslem
" welee " or holy man. On a broad ledge of the cliff, some
thirty feet above the water, is a hut built of stone and plaster,
and whitewashed, about twelve feet high, the roof rounded like
an Esquimau snow-hut with a knob at the top. Here the
good man lived, isolated from the world, fed by the charity of
passers-by, and meditating on his own holiness. Below him,
out of the rock, with apparently no better means of support
than he had, grows an acacia-tree, now in yellow blossoms.
Perhaps the saint chewed the gum-arabic that oozed from it.
Just above, on the river, is a slight strip of soil, where he used
to raise a few cucumbers and other cooling vegetables. The

i I

fJi !

^ . N

142

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

farm, which in no larger than two bed blankets, is deserted
now. The saint died, and is buried in his house, in a hole ex-
cavated in the rock, so that his condition is little changed, his
house being his tomb, and the Nile still soothing his slumber.

But if it is easy to turn a house into a tomb, it is still easier
to turn a tomb into a house. Here are two square-cut tombs in
the rock, of which a family has taken possession, the original
occupants probably having moved out hundreds of years ago.
Bmoke is issuing from one of them^ and a sorry-looking woman
i» pulling dead grass among the rocks for fuel. There seems to
be no inducement for any one to live in this barren spot, but
probably rent is low. A little girl seven or eight years old
comes down and walks along the bank, keeping up with che
boat, incited, of course, by the universal expectation of back-
sheesh. She has on a head-veil, covering the back of the head
and neck, ai;d a single shirt of brown rags hanging in strings.
I throw her an apple, a fruit she has probably never seen,
which she picks up and carries until she is join'^d by an elder
sister, to whom she shows it. Neither seems t 'ow what it
is. The elder smells it, sticks her teeth into it, ^ then takes
a bite. The little one tastes, and they eat it in alternate bites,
growing more and more eager for fair bites as the process
goes on.

Near the southern end of the cliffs of Gebel Aboofayda are
the crocodile-mummy pits which Mr. Prime explored ; caverns
in which are stacked up mummied crocodiles and lizards by the
thousands. We shall not go nearer to them. I dislike mum-
mies ; I loathe crocodiles ; I have no fondness for pits. What
could be more unpleasant than the three combined ! To crawl
on one's stomach through crevices and hewn passages in the
rock, in order to carry a torch into a stifling chamber, packed
with mummies and cloths soaked in bitumen, is an exploit that
we willingly leave to Egyptologists. If one takes a little pains,
he can find enough unpleasant things above ground.

It requires all our skill to work the boat round the bend
above these cliffs ; we are every minute about to go aground on
a sand-bar, or jibe the sail, or turn about. Heaven only knows
how we ever get on at all, with all the crew giving orders and
no one obeying. But by five o'clock we are at the large market
town of ManfaJoot, which has half a dozen minarets, and is
sheltered by a magiuficent palm-grove. You seem to be ap*

PEOPLE ON THE RIVER BANKS.

143

ap-

proHcliin^ an earthly imradise ; and one can keep up the illuRion
ii' lie docs not go iiHiiorc. And yet this is a H{)ot that ought to
intereHt the traveller, for hei-e Lot is said to have spent a portion
of the years of his exile, after the accident to his wife.

At sunset old Abo Arab comes limping along the bank with
a tin pail, having succeaded at length in overtaking tlie boat ;
and in reply to the question where he has been asleep all day,
])ulls out from his bosom nine small Ush as a peace-offering.
He was put off at sunrise to get milk for breakfast What a
happy-go-lucky country it i&

After sundown, the crew, who have worked hard all day, on
and off, tacking, poling, and shifting sail, get their supper round
an open tire on deck, take each some whitfs from the " hubble-
bubble," and, as we sail out over the broad, smooth water, sing
a rude and plaintive melody to the subdued thump of the dara-
booka. Towards dark, as we are about to tie up, the wind,
which had failed, rifi' s, and we voyage on, the waves rippling
against the sides i) a delicious lullaby. The air is soft, the
moon is full, and peeps out from the light clouds which obscure
the sky and prevent dew.

The dragoman asleep on the cabin deck, the reis crouched,
attentive of the course, near him, part of the sailors grouped
about the bow in low chat, and part asleep in the shadow of
the sail, we voyage along under the wide night, still to the
south and warmer skies, and seem to be sailing through an
enchanted land.

Put not your trust in breezes. The morning finds us still a
dozen miles from Asioot, where we desire to celebrate Christ-
mas ; we just move with sails up, and the crew poling. The
head man chants a line or throws out a word, and the rest
come in with a chorus, as they walk along, bending the
shoulder to the pole. The leader — the "shanty man" the
English sailors call their leader, from the French chanter^ I
suppose — ejaculates a phrase, sometimes prolonging it, or dwell-
ing on it with a variation, like "01 Mohammed I" or "01
Howadji !" or some scraps from a love-song, and the men strike
in in chorus: " Ha Yalesah, ha Yalesah," a response that the
boatmen have used for hundreds of years.

We sail leisurely past a large mud village dropped in a splen-
did grove of palms and acacias. The scene is very poetical
before details are inspected, and the groves, we think, ought to

ij >

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

144

be the homes of refineraent aitd luxury. Men arc building a
boat under the lon^ arcade of trees, women are stooping with
the eternal water-jars, which do not appear to retain fluid any
better than the sieves of the Danaides, and naked children run
along the bank crying " Backsheesh, Howadji." Our shot-
gun brings down a pigcon-hav»k close to the shore. A boy
plunges in and gets it, handing it to us on deck from the bank,
but not relinquishing his hold with una hand until he feels the
half-piastre in the other. So early is distrust planted in the
human breast.

Getting away from this idyllic scene, which has not a single
resemblance to any civilized town, we work our way up to El
Hamra late in the afternoon. This is the landing-place for
Asioot ; the city itself is a couple of miles inland, and could be
reached by a canal at high water. We have come again iato
an lictive world, and there are evidences that this is a busy
place. New boats are on the stocks, and there is a forge for
making some sort of machinery. So much life has not been
met with since we left Cairo. I'he furling our great sail is a
fine sight as we round in to the bank, the sailors crawling out
on the slender, hundred-feet-long, yard, like monkeys, and draw-
ing up the hanging slack with both feet and hands.

It is long since we have seen so many or so gaily-dressed
people as are moving on shore ; a procession of camels passes
along ; crowds of donkeys are pushed down to the boat by
their noisy drivers ; old • women come to sell eggs, and white
grease that pretends to be butter, and one of them pulls some
live pigeons from a bag. We lie at the mud-bank, and classes
of half-clad children, squatting in the sand, study us. Two
other dahabeehs are moored near us, their passengers sitting
under the awning and indolently observing the novel scene,
book in hand, after the manner of Nile voyagers.

These are the pictures constantly recurring on the river,
only they are never the same in grouping or color, and they
never weary one. It is wonderful, indeed. Low satisfying the
Nile is in itself, and bow little eifort travellers make for the
society of each other. Boats pass or meet and exchange
salutes, but with little more effusion than if they were on the
Thames. Nothing R^oat is so much like a private house as a
dahabeeh, and I should think, by what we hear, that sociability
decreases on the Nile with increase of travel and luxury.

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iability

CHAPTER XII.

SPENDING CHRISTMAS ON THE NILE.

jEOBABLY this present writer has the distinction of
being the only one who has written about the Nile and
has not invented a new way of spelling the name of the
town whose many minarets and brown roofs are visible
over the meadows.

It is written Asioot, Asyoot, Asiiit, Ssout, Sioout, Osyoot,
Osioot, 0'Sio(5t, Siut, Sioot, O'siout, Si-66t, Siout, Syouth, and
so on, indefinitely. People take the liberty to spell names as
they sound to them, and there is consequently a pleasing vari-
ety in the names of all places, persons, and things in Egypt ;
and when we add to the many ways of spelling an Arabic word,
the French, the German, and the English translation or equiv-
alent, you are in a hopeless jumble of nomenclature. The only
course is to strike out boldly and spell everything as it seems
good in your eyes, and differently in different moods. Even
the name of the Prophet takes on half a dozen forms ; there are
not only ninety-nine names of the attributes of God, but I pre-
sume there are ninety-nine ways of spelling each of them.

This Asioot has always been a place of impoi'tance. It was
of old called Lycopolis, its divinity being the wolf or the wolf-
headed god ; and in a rock-mountain behind the town were not
only cut the tombs of the inhabitants, but there were deposited
the mummies of the sacred wolves. About these no one in
Asioot knows or cares much, : ^-day. It is a city of twenty-five
thousand people, with a good many thriving Copt Christians ;
the terminus, to-day, of the railway, and the point of arrival
and departure of the caravans to and from Darfoor — a desert
march of a month. Here are made the best clay pipe-bowls in
Egypt, and a great variety of ornamented dishes and vases in
10

146

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

■':

'>?

f 1
; 4

II. i

! !

clay, which ne traveller buys and doesn't know what to do
with. The artisans also work up elephants' tusks and ostrich
feathers into a variety of " notions."

Christmas day opens warm and with an air of festivity.
Great palm-branches are planted along the bank and form an
prbor over the gang-plank. The cabin is set with them, in
gothic arches over windcvs and doors, with yellow oranges at
the apex. The forward and saloon decks are completely em-
bowered in palms, which also run up the masts and spars.
The crew have entered with zeal into the decoration, and in the
early morning transformed the boat into a floating bower of
greenery ; the effect is Oriental, but it is difficult to believe
that this is really Christmas day. The weather is not right,
for one thing. It is singularly pleasant, in fact like summer.
"We miss the usual snow and ice and the hurtling of savage
winds that bring suffering to the poor and make charity merit-
orious. Besides, the Moslems are celebrating the day for us,
and, I fear, regarding it simply as an occasion of backsheesh.
The sailors are very quick to understand so much of our religion
as is profitable to themselves. a^ xli

In such weather as this it would be possible for " shepherds
to watch their flocks by night."

Early in the day we have a visit from Wasef el Khyat, the
American consul here for many years, a Copt and a native of
Asioot, who speaks only Arabic ; he is accompanied by one of
his sons, who was educated at the American college in Beyrout.
So far does that excellent institution send its light ; scattered
rays, to be sure, but it is from it and such schools that the East
is getting the real impetus of civilization. I do not know what
the consul at Asioot does for America, but our flag is of great
service to him, protecting his property from the exactions of
his own government. Wasef is consequently very polite to all
Americans, and while he sipped coffee and puffed cigars in oui:
cabin he smiled unutterable things. This is the pleasantest
kind of intercourse in a warm climate, where a puff and an
occasional smile will pass for profuse expressions of social
enjoyment.

His Excellency Shakirr Pasha, the governor of this large and
rich province, has sent word that he is about to put carriages
and donkejrs at our disposal, but this probably meant that the

! I

CHRISTMAS ON THE NILE.

147

anc

consul would do it ; and the consul has done it. The carriage
awaits us on the bank. It is a high, paneled, venerable ark,
that moves with trembling dignity ; and we choose the donkeys
as less pretentious and less liable to come to pieces. This is no
doubt the only carriage bet\^een Cairo and Kartoom, and its
appearance is regarded as an event. J,'^^' .'^^ ''^ [

Our first visit is paid to the pasha, wfi6 lias lieen only a few
days in his province, and has not yet transfeiTed his harem
from Cairo. We are received with distinguished , ceremony,
to the lively satisfaction of Abd-el-Atti, whose face beams like
the morning, in bringing together such " distinguish" people as
his friend the pasha, and travellers in his charge. The pasha
is a courtly Turk, of most elegant manners, and the simplicity
of high breeding, a man of ttie world, and one of the ablest
governors in Egypt. The room into which we are ushered,
through a dirty alley and a mud wall court, is hardly in keep-
ing with the social stilts on which we are all walking. Jn our
own less favored land, it would answer very well for a shed or
an out-house to store beans in, or for a " reception room" for
sheep; a narrow oblong apartment, covered with a flat roof of
palm logs, with a couple of dirty little windows high up, the
once whitewashed walls stained variously, the cheap divans
soiled.

The hospitality of this gorgeous saloti was otfered us with
effusion, and we sat down and exchanged compliments as if we
had been in a palace. I am convinced that there is nothing
like the Oriental imagination. An attendant (and the servants
were in keeping with the premises) brought mjingana of coffee.
The servant presents the cup in his right hand, holding the
bottom of the silver receptacle in his thumb and finger ; he
takes it away empty with both hands, placing the left under
and the right on top of it. These formalities are uni\'ersal and
all- important. Before taking it you ought to make the saluta-
tion by touching breast, lips, and forehead, with the right hand
—an acknowledgment not to the servant but to the master.
Cigars are then handed round, for it is getting to be considered
on the Nile that cigars are more "swell" than pipes ; more's the

pity. .,^''''''"'''''-' ,'*..,

The exchange of compliments meantime' '#e!nt on, and on
the part of the pasha with a fineness, adroitness, and readiness

148

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS,

; ;

>1-

sis :.

that showed the practice of a lifetime in social fence. He
surpassed our most daring invention with a smiling ease, and
topped all our extravagances with an art that made our poor
efforts appear clumsy. And what the effect would have been
if we could have understood the flowery Arabic I can only
guess ; nor can we ever know how many flowers of his own
the dragoman cast in.

"His excellency say that he feel the honor of your visit."

"Say to his excellency that although we are only spending
one day in his beautiful capital, we could not forego the
pleasure of paying our respects to his excellency." This
sentence is built by the critic, and strikes us all favorably.

" His excellency himself not been here many da^'s, and sorry
he not know you coming, to make some preparations to receive
you."

"Thank liis excellency for the palms that decorate our
boat."

"They are nothing, nothing, he say not mention it; the
dahabeeh look very different now if the Nile last summer had
not wash awa.y all his flower-garden. His excellency say, how
you enjoyed your voyage 1 "

^ "It has be«n very pleasant; only for a day or two v e have
wanted wind."

"Your misfortune, his excellency say, his pleasure; it give
him the opportunity of your society. But he say if you want
wind he sorry no wind ; it cause him to suffer that you not
come here sooner."
,. "Will his excellency dine with us to-day?"

"He say he think it too much honor."

" Assure his excellency that we feel that the honor is con-
ferred by him."

And he consents to come. After we have taken our leave,
the invitation is extended to the consul, who is riding with us.

The way to the town is along a winding, shabby embank-
ment, raised above high water, and shaded with sycamore-
trees. It is lively with people on foot and on donkeys, in more
colored and richer dress than that worn by country-people; the
fields are green, the clover is springing luxuriantly, and spite of
the wrecks of unbumed-lMick houses, left gaping by the last flood
and spite of the general untidiness of everything, the ride is en-

CHRISTMAS ON THE NILE.

149

joyable. I don't know why it is that an irrigated country never
is pleasing on close inspection, neither is an irrigated garden.
Both need to be seen from a little distance, which conceals the
rawness of the alternately dry and soaked soil, the frequent
thinness of vegetation, the unkempt swampy appearance of the
lowest levels, and the painful whiteness of paths never wet and
the dustiness of trees unwashed by rain. There is no Egyptian
landscape or village that is neat, on near inspection. 1I '

Asioot has a better entrance than most towns, through an
old gateway into the square (which is the court of the palace),
and the town has extensive bazaars and some large dwellings;
But as we ride through it, we are always hemmed in by mud-
walls, twisting through narrow alleys, encountering dirt and
poverty at every step. "We pass through the quarter of the
Ghawazees, who, since their banishment from Cairo, form little
colonies in all the large Nile towns. These are the dancing-
w^men whom travellers are so desirous of seeing ; the finest-
looking women and the most abandoned courtesans, says Mr.
Lane, in Egypt. In showy dresses of bright yellow and rod,
adorned with a profusion of silver-gilt necklaces, earrings, and
bracelets, they sit at the doors of their hovels in idle expecta-
tion. If these happen to be the finest-looking women in Egypt,
the others are wise in keeping their veils on.

Outside the to.wn we find a very pretty cemetery of the
Egyptian style, staring white tombs, each dead person resting
under his own private little stucco oven. Near it is encamped
a caravan just in from Darfoor, bringing cinnamon, gum-
arabic, tusks, and ostrich feathers. The camels are worn with
the journey ; their drivers have a fierce and free air in striking
contrast with the bearing of the fellaheen. Their noses are
straight, their black hair is long and shaggy, their garment is
a single piece of coarse brown cloth; they have the wildness of
the desert. b/ioix u mi}

The soft limestone ledge back of the town is honeycombed
with grottoes and tombs, rising in tiers from the bottom to the
top. Some of them have merely square-cut entrances into a
chamber of aioderate size, in some part "of Which, or in a
passage beyond, is a pit cut ten or twenty feet deep in the rock,
like a giave, for the Jdaummy. One oi them has a mugtiificent
entrance thirough a doorway over thirty feet high and fifteen

i5<5

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

jli

deep; upon the jambs are gigantic figures cut in the rock.
Some of the chambers are vast and were once pillared, and may
have served for dwellings. These excavations are very old.
The hieroglyphics and figures on the walls are not in relief on
the stone, but cut in at the outer edge and left in a gradual
swell in the centre- — an intaglio relievato. The drawing is
generally spirited, and the figures show knowledge of form and
artistic skill. It is wonderful that such purely conventional
figures, the head almost always in profile and the shoulders
square to the front, can be so expressive. On one wall is a
body of infantry marching, with the long pointed shields
mentioned by Xenophon in describing Egyptian troops.
Everywhere are birds, gracefully drawn and true to species,
and upon some of them the blue color is fresh. A ceiling of
one grotto is wrought in ornamental squares — a "Greek
pattern," executed long before the time of the Greeks. Here
we find two figures with the full face turned towards us^ in-
stead of the usual profile.

These tombs have served for a variety of purposes. As long
as the original occupants rested here, no doubt their friends
came ^nd feasted and were mournfully merry in these sightly
chambers overlooking the Nile. Long after they were turned
out. Christian hermits nested in them, during that extraordin-
ary period of superstition when men thought they could best
secure their salvation by living, like wild beasts in the deserts
of Africa. Here one John' of Lycopolis had his den, in which
he stayed fifty years, without ever opening the dooi ^r seeing
the face of a woman. At least, he enjoyed that reputation.
Later, persecuted Christians dwelt in these tombs, and after
them have come wanderers, and jackals, and houseless Arabs.
I think I should rather live here than in Asioot; the tombs are
cleaner and better built than the houses of the town, and there
is good air here and no danger of floods.

When we are on the top of the blufi", the desert in broken
ridges is behind us. The view is one of the best of the usual
views from hills near the Nile, the elements of which are
similar ; the spectator has Egypt in all its variety at his feet.
The valley here is broad, and we look a long distance up and
down the river. The Nile twists and turns in its bed like one
of the chimerical serpents sculptured in the chambers of the

: 'i

CHRISTMAS ON THE NILE.

151

dead; canals wander from it through the plain ; and groves of
palms and lines of sycamores contrast their green with that of
the fields. All this level expanse is now covered with wheat,
barley and thick clover, and the green has a vividness that we
have never seen in vegetation before. This owes somewhat to
the brown contrast near at hand and something mayl)e to the
atmos[)here, but, I 'think the growing grain has a lustre un-
known to other lands. The smiling picture is enclosed by
the savage frame of the desert, gaunt ridges of rocky hills,
drifts of stones, and yellow sand that sends its hot tongues in
long darts into the plain. At the foot of the mountain lies
Asioot, brown as the mud of the Nile, a city built of sun-dried
bricks, but presenting a singular and not unpleasing appear-
ance on account of the dozen white stone minarets, some of
them worked like lace, which spring out of it.

The consul's home is one of the best in the city, but outside
it shows only a mud-wall like the meanest. Within is a
paved court, and oflfices about it ; the rooms above are large,
many-windowed, darkened with blinds, and not unlike those
of a plain house in America. The furniture is European
mainly, and ugly, and of course out of place in Africa. We
see only the male members of the family. Confectionery and
coffee are served and some champagne, that must have been
made by the Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company ;
their champagne is well known in the Levant, and there is no
known decoction that is like it. In my judgment, if it is pro-
posed to introduce Christianity and that kind of wine into
Egypt, the country would better be left as it is.

During our call the consul presents us fly-whisks with ivory
haniles, and gives the ladies beautiful fans of ostrich feathers
mounted in ivory. These presents may have been due to a
broad hint from the Pasha, who said to the consul at our inter-
view in the morning: —

"I should not like to have these distinguished strangers go
away without some remembmnce of Asioot. I have not been
here long; wnat is th^e to get for them? "

"O, your excellency, I will attend to that," said the consul.

In the evening, with the dahabeeh beautifully decorated and
hung with colored lanterns, upon the deck, which, shut in with
canvas and spread with Turkish rugs, was a fine reception-room,

1-E

k ^

'.1 .

I';!'' 1

152

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

we awaited our guests, as if we had been accustomed to this
sort of thing in Ameiica fi'om our infancy, and as if we usually-
celebrated Christmas outdoors, fans in hand, with fireworks. A
stand for the exhibition of fireworks had been erected on shore.
The pasha was received as he stepped on board, with three
rockets (that being, I suipose, the number of his official "tails,"),
which flew up into the sky and scattered their bui-sting bombs
of color amid the stars, announcing to the English dahabeehs,
the two steamboats and the town of Asioot, that the governor
of the richest province in Egypt was about to eat his din^^er.

The dinner was one oi those perfections that one likes to
speak of only in confidential moments to dear friends. It wanted
nothing either in number of courses or in variety, in meats, in
confections, in pyramids of gorgeous construction, in fruits and
flowers. There was something touching about the lamb roasted
whole, reclining his head on his own shoulder. There was
something tender about the turkey. There was a terrible
moment when the plum-pudding was borne in on fire, as if it
had been a present from the devil himself. The pasha regarded
it with distrust, and declined, like a wise man, to eat flame. I
fear that the English have fairly introduced this dreadful dish
into the Orient, and that the natives have come to think that
all foreigners are Molochs who can best be pleased by offering
up to them its indigestible ball set on fire of H. It is a fearful
spectacle to see this heathen people offering this incense to a
foreign idol, in the subserviency which will sacrifice even religion
to backsheesh.

The conversation during dinner is mostly an exchange of
coraplimenis, in the art of which the pasha is a master, displa)'-
ing in it a wit, a variety of resource and a courtliness that make
the game a very entertaining one. The Arabic language gives
full play to this sort of social espieglerie, and lends a delicacy to
encounters of compliment which the English language does not
admit.

Coffee and pipes are served on deck, and the fireworks begin
to tear and astonish the night. The Khedive certainly employs
very good pyrotechnists, and the display by Al/d-el-Atti and
his equally excited helpers, although simple, is brilliant. The
intense delight that the soaring and bursting of a rocket gives to
Abd-el-Atti is expressed in unconscious and unrestrained de-

CHRISTMAS ON THE NILE.

153

monstration. He might be himself in flames but he would
watch the flight of the rushing stream of fire, jumping up and
down in liis anxiety for it to burst : —

"There! there! that's-a he, hooray! "
f Every time one bursts, scattering its colored stars, the crew,
led by the dragoman, cheer,

" Heep, heep, hooray I heep, heep, hooray ! "

A whirligig spins upon the river, spouting balls of fire, and
the crow come in with a "Heep, heep, hooray ! heep, heep,
hooray !" '" "'■

"The steamer, which has a Belgian prince on board, illuminates,
and salutes with shot guns. In the midst of a fusillade of
rockets and Roman candles, the crew develope a new accom-
plishment. Drilled by the indomitable master of ceremonies,
they attempt the first line of that distinctively Amei-ican melody,

.,i,i',..

?»ft

,j^** We won't go home till morning."

They really catch the air, and make a bubble, bubble of
sounds, like automata, that somewhat resemble the words.
Probably they think that it is our national anthem, or perhaps
a Christmas hymn. No doubt, " won't-go-home-till-morning "
sort of Americans have been up the nver before us.

The show is not over when the pasha pleads an engagement
to take a cup of tea with the Belgian prince, and asks permission
to retire. He expresses his anguish at leaving us, and he will
not diepart if we say "no." Of course, our anguish in letting
the pasha go exceeds his suffering in going, but we sacrifice
ourselves to the demand of his station, and permit him to depart.
At the foot of the cabin stairs he begs us to go no further, in-
sisting that we do him too much honor to come so far.

The soft night grows more brilliant. Abd-el-Atti and his
minions are stUl blazing away. T^e consul declares that Asioot
in all his life has never experienced a night like this. We ex-
press ourselves as humbly thankful in being the instruments of
giving Asioot (which is asleep there two miles off*) such an "eye-
opener." (This remark has a finer sound when translated into
Arabic.) rnif-.^fio-.

The spectacle closes by a voyage out upon the swift river in
the sandal. We take Roman candles, blue, red, and green
lights and floaters which Abd-el-Atti lets off", while the crew

154

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

■

hoarsely roar "We won't go home till morning," and mingle
"Heep, heep, hooray," with "Ha Yalesah, ha Yalesah."

The long range of lights on the steamers, the flashing lines
and pyramids of colors on our own dahabeeh, the soft June-like
night, the moon coming up in fleecy clouds, the broad Nile
sparkling under so many fires, kindled on earth and in the sky,
made a scene unique, and as beautiful as any that the Arabian
Nights suggest.

To end all, there was a hubbub on shore among the crew,
caused by one of them who was crazy with hasheesh, and threat-
ened to murder the reis and dragoman, if he was not permitted
to go on board. It could be demonstrated that he was less
likely to slay them if he did not come on board, and he was
therefore sent to the governor's lock-up, with a fair prospect of
going into the Khedive's army. We left him behind, and about
one o'clock in the morning stole away up the river with a gentle
and growing breeze.

Net result of pleasure: — one man in jail, and Abd-el-Atti's
wrist so seriously burned by the fireworks, that he has no use
of his arm for weeks. But, "'twas a glorious victory." For a
Christmas, however, it was a little too much like the Fourth of
July.

«;.riv.jl 'mhn-

ti-

.a...

CHAPTER XIII.

SrGHTS AND SCENES ON THE RIVER.

^S WE sail down into the heart of Egypt and into the

t-emote past, living in fact by books and by eye-sight,
in eras so far-i-eacliing that centuries count only as years
in them, the word ''ancient" gets a new signification. We
pass every day ruins, ruins of the Old Empire, of the Middle
Empire, of the Ptolomies, of the Greeks, of the Romans, of the
Christians, of the Saracens ; but nothing seems ancient to us
any longer except the remains of Old Egypt.

We have come to have a singular contempt for anything so
modern as the work of the Greeks, or Romans. Ruins pointed
out on shore as Roman do not interest us enough to force us to
raise the field-glass. Small antiquities that are of the Roman
period are not considered worth examination. The natives
have a depreciatory shrug when they say of an idol or a brick-
wall, " Roman ! "

The Greeks and the Romans are moderns like ourselves.
They are as broadly separated in the spirit of their life and
culture from those ancients as we are ; we can understand them ;
it is impossible ior us to enter into the habits of thought and
of life of the early Pharaonic times. When the variation of two
thousand years in the assignment of a dynasty seems to us a
trifle, the two thousand years that divide us and the Romans
shrink into no importance.

In future ages the career of the United States and of Rome
will be reckoned in the same era ; and children will be taught
the story of George Washington suckled by the wolf, and
Romulus cutting the cherry-tree with his little hatchet. We
must have distance in order to put things in their proper rela-
tions. In America, what have we that will endure a thousand

;' 1.

. \ >!

1 ;
t ^

•t I

llk^^

156

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

years 1 Even Oeorj^o Washington's hatchet may be forgotten
sooner tlian the Jlabellum of Pharaoh.

The (lay after Christmas wo are going with a ^jtiff wind, so
fresh tliat we can carry only the forward sail. The sky is
cloudy and stormy-looking. It is in fact as disagreeable and as
sour a fall day as you can find anywhere. We keep the cabin,
except for a time in the afternoon, when it is comfortable sitting
on dock in an overcoat. We fly by Abooteeg ; IlaAineh, a raore
j)icturesque village, the top of every house being a pigeon-tower;
Gow, with its remnants of old Antaeopolis — it was in the river
here that Horus defeated Typhon in a great battle, as, thank
God I he is always doing in this flourishing world, with a good
chance of killing him outright some day, when Typhon will no
njore take the shape of crocodile or other form of evil, war, or
pajHjr currency ; Tahtah, conspicuous by its vast mounds of an
ancient city ; and Gebel Sheykh HereMee, near the high cliff's
of which we run, impressed by the grey and frowning ci*ags.

As we are passing these rocks a small boat dashes out to our
side, with a sail in tatters and the mast carrying a curiously
embroidered flag, the like of which is in no signal-book. In the
stern of this fantastic craft sits a young and very shabbily clad
sheykh, and demands backsheesh, as if he had a right to demand
toll of all who pass his dominions. This right Our reis acknow-
ledges and tosses him i nae paras done up in a rag. I am sure
I like this sort of custom-house better than some I have seen.

We go on in the night past Soohag, the capital of the province
of Girgeh ; and by other villages and spots of historic interest,
where the visitor will find only some heaps of stones and rubbish
to satisfy a curiosity raised by reading of their former im-
portance ; by the White Monastery and the Red Convent ; and,
coming round a bend, as we always are coming round a bend,
and bringing the wind ahead, the crew probably asleep ; we
ignominiously run into the bank, and finally come to anchor in*
mid-stream. • '

As if to crowd all weathers into twenty-four hours, it clears
off cold in the night ; and in the morning when we are opposite
the pretty town of Ekhmeem, a temperature of 51" makes it^
rather fresh for the men who line the banks working the'
shadoofs, with no covering but bredch-cloths. The people here,
when it is cold, bundle up abmtt the hettd and shoulders with

SIGHTS AND SCKN£S ON THE RIVER.

157

thick wrapB, and leave the feet and legs bare. Tlie natives are
huddled in clusters on the bank, out of the shade of the houws,
in order to get the warmth of the sun ; near one group a couple
of discontented camels kneel ; and the naked boy, making no
pretence of a superfluous wardrobe by hanging hLs shirt on a
bush while he goes to bed, is holding it up to dry.

We skim along in almost a gale the whole day, passing in
the afternoon an American dahabeiih tied up, repairing a
broken yard, and giving Bellianeh the go-by as if it wore of no
importance. And yet this is the landing for the great AbyduM,
a city once second only to Tliebes, the burial-place of (Jsiris
himself, and still marked by one of the finest temples in Egypt.
But our business now is navigation, and we improve the night
as well as the day ; much against the grain of the crew. There
is always more or less noise and row in a night sail, going
agi'ound, splashing, and boosting in the water to get off, shouting
and chorusing and tramping on deck, and when the thermometer
is as low as 52° these night-baths are not very welcome when
followed by exjwsure to keen wind, in a cotton shirt. And
with the dragoman in bed, used up like one of his burnt-out
rockets, able only to grumble at " dese fellow care for nothing
but smoke hasheesh," the crew are not very subordinate.
They are liable to go to sleep and let us run aground, or they
are liable to run aground in order that they may go to sleep.
They seem to try both ways alternately.

But moving or stranded, the night is brilliant uU the same ;
the night-skies are the more lustrous the farther we go from the
moisture of Lower Egypt, and the stars scintillate with splendor,
and flash deep colors like diamonds in sunlight. Late, the moon
rises over the mountains under which we are sailing, and the
effect is magically lovely. We are approaching Farshoot.
! i Farshoot is a market-town and has a large sugar-factoiy, the
first set-up in Egypt, built by an uncle of the Khedive. It wia
the seat of power of the Howara tribe of Arabs, and famous for
its breed of Howara horses and dogs, the latter bigger and
fiercer than the little wolfish curs with which Egypt swarms.
It is much like other Egyptian towns now, except that its in-
habitants, like its dogs, are a little wilder and more ragged
than the fellaheen below. This whole district of Hamram is
exceedingly fertile and bursting with a tropical vegetation.

>5^

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

The Turkish governor pays a formal visit and we enjoy one
of those silent a*id impressive interviews over chibooks and
coflfee, in which nothing is said that one can regret. We
J5nally make the governor a complimentary speech, which
Hoseyn, who only knows a little table-English, pretends to
translate The bey replies, talking very rapidly for two or
three minutes. When we asked Hoseyn to translate, he
smiled and said — " Thank you " — which was no doubt the long
palaver. t7i.?is/f

The governor conducts us. through the sugar-factory, which is
not on so grand a scale as those we shall see later^ but hot
enough and sticky enough, and then gives rs the inevitable
coffee in his office ; seemingly, if you clap your hands anywhere
m Egypt, a polite and ragged attendant will appear with a tiny
cup of coffee. ^ i^V--

The town is just such a collection of mud-hovels as the others,
and we learn nothing new in it. Yes, we do. We learn how
to scour brass dishes. We see at the doorway of a house where
a group of women sit on the ground waiting for their hair to
grow, two boys actively engaged in this scouring process.
They stand in the dishes, which have sand in them, and, sup-
porting themselves by the side of the hut, whirl half-way round
and back. Hie soles of their feet must be like leather. Thid
method of scouring is worth recording, as it may furnish an
occupation for boys at an* age when they are usually, and cer-
tertainly here, useless. . 4vr.,,„.?t « ■

The weekly market is held in the open air at the edge of the
town. The wares for sale are spread upon the ground, the
people sitting behind them in some soi*t of order, but the crowd
sui^s everywhere and the powd*^red dust rises in clouds. Itii
is the most motley assembly we have seen. The women ai%''
tattooed on the i'ace and on the breast ; they wear anklets of
bone and of silver, and are loaded with silver ornaments. As'
at every other place where a fair, a wedding, or a funeral'
attracts a crowd, there are some shanties of the Ghawazee^''
who are physically superior to the other women, but more*^*
tattooed, their necks, bosoms and waist* covered with their
whole fortune of silver, their eyelids heavily stained with kohl
— bold-looking jades, who come out and stare at us with a more
than masculine impudence. -.m oii Jiwl

liw i

SIGHTS AND SCENES ON THE RIVER.

15^

IS. It^

lets of

As'

liberal

I . .-.f

razees,

their^^

kohl

The market offers all sorts of green country produce, and eggs,
corn, donkeys, sheep, lentils, tobacco, pipe-stems, and cheap
ornaments in glass. The crowd hustles about us in a trouble-
some manner, showing special curiosity about the ladies, as if
they had rarely seen white women. Ahmed and ano»ther sailor
charge into them with their big sticks to open a passage for us,
but they follow us, commenting freely upon our appear-u "o.
The sailors jabber at them and at us, and are anxious to i.\. >i
back to the boat, where we learn that the natives "n ■ likj
you." The feeling is mutual, though it is discouraging to oar
pride to be despised by such barbarous half-clad folk.

Beggars come to the boat continually for backsheesh ; ' tall
juggler in a white, dirty tunic, with a long snake coiled about
his neck, will not go a^&y for less than half a piastre. One
tariff piastre (five cents) buys four eggs here, double the price
of former years, but still discouraging to a hen. However, the
hens have learned to lay their eggs small. All the moniing we
are trading in the desultory way in which everything is done
here, buyinj^ a handful of eggs at a time, and live chickens by
the siiigle one.

In the a.fteru(X)n the boat is tracked along through a land that
is bursting with richness, waving with vast fields of wheat, of
lentils, of sugar-cane, interspei-sed with melons and beans. Thf
date-palms are splendid in stature and mass of crown. "We
examine for the first time the Dom palm, named from its shape,
which will not flourish much lower on the river than here. Its
stem grows up a little distance, and tlien branches in two, and
these two limbs each branch in two ; always in two. The leaves
are shorter than those of the date-palm, and the tree is alto*-
gether more scraggy, but at a little distance it assumes the dome
form. The fruit, now green, hangs in large bunches a couple of
feet long ; each fruit is the size of a large Flemish Beauty pear.
It has a thick rind, and a stone, like vegetable ivory, so hard
that it is used for drill-sockets. The fibrous rind is gnawed off
by the natives when it is ripe . and is said to taste like ginger-
bread. These people live on gums and w,te?y vegetables and
fibrous stuff that wouldn't give a northern man strength enough
to gather them.

We find also the gont acacia here, and dig the gum^rabio-
from itfl bark. In the midst of a great plain of wheat, inter^'

If ^

1
I-

1 60

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

sected by ditches and raised footways, we come upon a sakiya,
embowered in trees, which a long distance off makes itself
known by the most doleful squeaking. These water-wheels,
which are not unlike those used by the Persians, are not often
seen lower down the liver, where the water is raised by the
shadoof. Here we find a well sunk to the depth of the Nile,
and bricked up. Over it is a wheel, upon which is hung an
'^ndle-ss rope of palm fibres, and on its outer rim are tied earthen
jars. As the wheel revolves these jars dip into the well, and
coming up discharge the water into a wooden trough, whence
it flows into channels of earth. The cogs of this wheel fit into
another, and the motive power of the clumsy machine is fur-
nished by a couple of oxen or cows, hitched to a pole swinging
round an upright shaft. A little girl, seated on the end of the
pole, is driving the oxen, whobe slow hitching gait sets the
machine rattling and squeaking as if in pain. Nothing is
exactly in gear, the bearings are never oiled ; half the water is
spilled before it gets to the trough ; but the thing keeps grind-
ing on, night and day, and I suppose has not been improved or
changed in its construction for thousands of years.

During our walk we are attended by a friendly crowd of men
and boys ; there are always plv^nty of them who are as idle as
we are, and are probably very much puzzled to know why we
roam about in this way. I am sure a New England farmer, if
he saw a troop of these Arabs strolling through his corn-field,
would set his dogs on them.

Both sides of the river are luxuriant here. The opposite
bank, which is high, is lined with shadoofs, generally in set/S of.
three, in order to raise the Avater to the required level. The
view is one long to remember : — the long curving shore, with
the shadoofs and the woi'kmen, singing as they dip ; people in
flowing garments movirig along the high bank, and processions
of donkeys and camels as well ; rows of palms above them, and
beyond the purple Libyan hills, in relief against a rosy sky,
slightly clouded along the even mountain line. In the fore-
ground the Nile is placid and touched with a little colour.

We feel more and more that the Nile is Egypt. Everytliing
takes place on its banks. From our boat we study its life at
our leisure. The Nile is always vocal with singing, ov scolding,
or calling to prayer ; it is always lively with boatmen or work-

SIGHTS AND SCENES ON THE RIVER.

l6l

itself
leels,
often
y the
Nile,
kg an
rthen
[, and
hence
t into
3 fur-
nging
of the
bs the
Lng is
iter is
grind-
v^fcd or

)f men
.die as
hy we
nor, if
field.

iposite
}ets of.
The
with
)le in
f,ssions
I, and
[y sky,
fore-

^thing

life at

llding,

work-

men, or picturesque groups, or women filling Iheir water-jars.
It is the highway ; it is a spectacle p thousand miles long. It
supplies everything. I only wonder at one thing. Seeing that
it is so swift, and knowing that it flows down and out into a
world whence so many wonders come, I marvel that its inhabi-
tants are contented to sit >)n its banks year after year, genera-
tion after generation, shut in behind and before by desert hills,
without any desire to sail down the stream and get into a larger
world. We meet rather intelligent men who have never jour-
neyed so far as the next large town.

Thus far we have had only a few days of absolutely cloudless
skies ; usually we have some clouds, generally at sunrise and
sunset, and occasionally an overcast day like this. But the
cloudiness is merely a sort of shade ; there is no possibility of
rain in it.

And, sure of good weather, why should we hasten ? In fact,
we do not. It is something to live a life that has in it neither
worry nor responsibility. We take an interest, however, in
How and Disnah and Fow, places where people have been liv-
ing and dying now for a long time, which we cannot expect you
to share. In the night while we -ire anchored a breeze springs
up, and Abd-el-Atti roars at the sailors to rouse them, but un-
successfully, until he cries,
" Come to prayer I"
The sleepers, waking, answer,
" God is great, and Mohammed is his prophet."
'iThey the get up and set the sail. This is what it is to carry
religion into daily life.

To-day we have been going northward, for variety. Keneh,
A ^ich is thirty miles higher up the river than How, is nine
m utes further north. The Kile itself loiters through the
lai. i. An the crew are poling slo\7ly along, this hot summer
day, we have nothing to do but to enjoy the wide and glassy
Nile, its fei-tile banks vocal with varied life. The songs of
Nubian boatmen, rowing in measured stroke down the stream,
come to us. The round white wind-mills of Keneh are visible
on the sand-hills above the town. Children are bathing, and
cattle and donkeys wading in the shallows, and the shrill chatter
of women is heard on the shore. If this is winter, I wonder
what summer here is like.

■

.1;

;

CHAPTER XIV.

MII>WINTER IN EGYPT.

Ij^HETHER we go north or south, or wait for some wan-
dering, unemployed wind to take us round the next
bend, it is all the same to us. We have ceased to care
much for time, and T think we shall adopt the Assyrian system
of reckoning.

The period of the precession of the equinoxes was regarded as
one day of the life of the universe ; and this day equals 43,200
jj of our years. This day, of 43,200 years, the Assyrians divided
into twelve cosmic hours or "sars," each one of 3,600 yeai*s;
each of these hours into six " ners," of 6000 years ; and the
" ner" into ten " sosses" or cosmic minutes, of 600 years. And
thus, as we reckon sixty. seconds to a minute, our ordinary year
was a second of the great chronological period. What then is
the value of a mere second of time ] What if we do lie half a
day at this bank, in the sun, waiting for a lazy breeze 1 There
certainly is time enough, for we seem to have lived a cosmic
hour since we landed in Egypt.

One sees here what an exaggerated importance we are accus-
tomed to attach to the exact measurement of tima We con-
stantly compare our watches, and are anxious that they should
ij not gain or lose a second. A person feels his own importance
- somehow increased if he owns an accurate watch. There is
nothing that a man resents more than the disparagement of his
watch. (It occurs to me, by the way, tha^i the superior attrac-
tiveness of women, that quality of repose and rest which the
world finds in them, springs from the same amiable laisser aUer
that suffers their watches never to be correct. When the day

MIDWINTER IN EGYPT.

163

comes that women's watches keep time, there will bo no peace
in this world.) When two men meet, one of the most frequent
interchanges of courtesies is to compare watches ; certainly, if
the question of time is raised, as it is sure to be shortly among
a knot of men with us, every one pulls out his watch, and com-
parison is made.

We are, in fact, the slaves of time and of fixed times. We
think it a great loss and misfortune to be without the correct
time ; and if we are away from the town-clock and the noon-
gun, in some country place, we importune the city stranger, who
appears to have a good watch, for the time ; or we lie in wait
for the magnificent conductor of the railway express, who
always has the air of getting the promptest time from head-
quarters. ' -'io,«Wi/<. *>

Here in Egypt we see how unnatural and unnecessary this
anxiety is. Why should we care to know the exact time ? It
is 12 o'clock, Arab time, at sunset, and that shifts every even-
ing, in order to wean us from the rigidity of iron habits. Time
is flexible, it waits on our moods and we are not slaves to its
accuracy. Watches here never agree, and no one cares whether
they do or not. My own, which was formerly as punctual as
the stars in their courses, loses on the Nile a half hour or three
quarters of an hour a day (speaking in our arbitrary, artificial
manner) ; so that, if I were good at figures, I could cypher out
the length of time which would suffice, by the loss of time by
my watch, to set me back into the age of Thothmes III. — a very
good age to be in. We are living now by great cosmic periods
and have little care for minute divisions of time,
li ii This morning we are at Ballds, no one knows how, for we
anchored three times in the night. At Ballas are made the big
earthen jars which the women carry on their heads, and which
are sent from here the length of Egypt. Immense numbers of
them are stacked upon the banks, and boat-loads of them are
waiting for the wind. Rafts of these jars are made and floated
down to the Delta ; a fi-ail structure, one would say, in the
swift and shallow Nile, but below this place there are neither
rocks in the stream nor stones on the shore.

The sunrise is magnificent, opening a cloudless day, a day of
hot sun, in which the wheat on the banks and under the p^mj

17^

1 64

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

f:P

groves, now knee-high and a vivid green, sparkles as if it had
dew on it. At night th3re are colors of salmon and rose in the
sky and on the water ; and the end of the mountain, where
Thebes lies, takes a hue of greyish or pearly pink. Thebes !
And we are really coming to Thebes ! It is fit that it should
lie in such a bath of color. Very near to-night seems that
gr«at limestone ledge in which the Thebans entombed their
dead ; but it is by the winding river thirty miles distant.

The last day of the year 1874 finds us lounging about in this
pleasant Africa, very much after the leisurely manner of an
ancient maritime expedition, the sailors of which spent most of
their time in marauding on shore, watching for auguries, and
sailing a little when the deities favored. The attempts, the
failures, this mismanagements of the day add not a little to your
entertainment on the Nile.

In the morning a light breeze springs up and we are slowly
ci'awling forward, when the wind expires, and we come to
anchor in mid-stream. The Nile here is wide and glassy, but
it is swift, and full of eddies that make this part of the river
exceedingly difficult of navigation. We are too far from the
shore for tracking, and another resource is tried. The sandal is
sent ahead with an anchor and a cable, the intention being to
drop the anchor and then by the cable pull up to it, and repeat
the process until we get beyond these eddies and treacherous
sand-bars. asjiki 6\ '

Of course the sailors in the sandal, who never i^ink of two
things at the same time, miscalculate the distance, and after
they drop the anchor, have not rope enough to get back to the
dahabeeh. They are, just above us, and just out of reach, in a
most helpless condition, but quite resigned to it. After various
futile experiments they make a line with their tracking-cords
and float an oar to us, and we send them rope to lengthen their
cable. Nearly an hour is consumed in this. When the cable
is attached, the crew begin slowly to haul it in through the
pullies, walking the short deck in a round and singing chorus
of, " O Mohammerf," to some catch-word or phi^ase of the leader.
They like this, it is the kind of work that Iwys prefer, a sort of
frolic : — if

AUah, AUah !"

And in response,

kiJUQiixi 4i^ji fci Mil

MIDWINTER IN EGYPT.

165

tO'i'T

•' Mohammcrf 1"
•• God forgive ub !"

" Mohammeef !"
** God is most great !"

'♦OMoha..imeti!"
" El Hoseyn !"

t/iart " Mohammed !"

And so they go round as hilarious as if they played at leap-
frog, with no limit of noise and shouting. They cannot haul a
rope or pull an oar without this vocal expression. When the
anchor is reached it is time for the crew to oat dinner.
to We make not more than a mile all day, with Lard work, but
we reach the shore. We have been two days in this broad,
beautiful bend of the river, surrounded by luxuriant fields and
palm-groves, the picture framed in rosy mountains of limestone
which glow in the clear sunshine. It is a becalmment in an en-
chanted place, out of which there seems to be no way, and if
there wore we are loosing the desire to go. At night, as we lie
at the bank, a row of ra^ed fallaheen line the high shore, like
buzzards, looking down on us. There is something admirable
in their patience, the only virtue they seem to practise.

Later, Abd-el-Atti 'is thrown into a great excitement upon
learning that this is the last day of the year. He had set his
heart on being at Luxor, and celebrating the New Year with a
grand illumination and burst of fire-works; If he had his way
we should go blazing up the river in a perpetual fizz of pyro-
technic glory. At Luxor especially, where many boats are
usually gathered, and which is for many the end of the voyage,
the dragomans like to outshine each other in display. This is
the fashionable season at Thebes, and the harvest-time of its
merchants of antiquities ; entertainments are given on shore,
boats are illuminated, and there is a . general rivalry in gaiety.
Not to be in Thebes on New Year's is a misfortune. Some-
thing must be done. The sheykh of the village of Tookh is
sent for, in the hope that he can help us round the bend. The
sheykh comes, and sits on the deck and smokes. Orion also
comes up the eastern sky, like a conqueror, blazing amid a
blazing heavenv But we don't stir.

Upon the bank sits the guard of men from the village, to
protect us; the sight of the ragamuffins grouped round their
lanterns is very picturesque. Whenever we tie up at night we

i66

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

i«

' !

1 )•

are obliged to procure from the sheykh of the nearest village r
guard to keep thieves from robbing us, for the thieves are not only
numerous but expert all along the Nile. No wonder. They
have to steal their own crops, in order to get a fair share of the
produce of the land they cultivate under the exactions of the
government. The sheykh would not dare to refris© the guard
asked for. The office of sheykh is still hereditary from father
to eldest son, and the sheykh has authority over his own vil-
lage, according to the ancient custom, but he is subject to a bey,
set by the government to rule a district. '^

New Year's morning is bright, sparkling, cloudless. When
I look from my window early, the same row of buzzards sit on
the high bank, looking down upon our deck and peering into
our windows. Brown, ragged heaps of humanity ; I suppose
they are human. One of the youngsters makes mouths and
faces at me ; and, no doubt, despises us, as dogs and unbelievers.
Behold our critic : — he has on a single coarse brown garment,
through which his tawny skin shows in spots, and he squats in
the sand. * «^"

What can come out of such a people ? Their ignorance ex-
ceeds their poverty ; and they appear to own nothing save a
single garment. They look not ill-fed, btit ill-conditioned.
And the country is skinned ; all the cattle, the turkeys, the
chickens are lean. The fatness of the land goes elsewhere.

In what contrast are these people, in situation, in habits, in
every thought, to the farmers of America. This Nile valley
is in effect cut off from the world ; nothing of what we call
nc *»3 enters it, no news, or book, no information of other coun-
tries, nor of any thought, or progress, or occurrences. These
people have not, in fact, the least conception of what the world
is ; they know no more of geogi-aphy than they do of history.
They think the world is flat, with an ocean of water round it.
Mecca is the centre. It is a religious necessity that the world
should be flat in order to have Mecca its centre. All Moslems
believe that it is flat, as a inatter of faith, though a few intel-
ligent men know better, r vr^f^i,.f!.^ r.ti v;,r.n

' These people, as I say, do not know anjrthihg, as we estimate
knowledge. And yet these watchmen and the group dn the
bank talked all night long ; their tongues were racing inces-
santly, and it appeared to be conversation and not monologue

r-ii

MIDWINTER IN EGYPT.

167

or narration. What could they have been talking about ? Is
talk in the inverse ratio of knowledge, and do we lose the
power or love for mere talk, as we read and are informed ]

• These people, however, know the news of the river. There
is a sort of freemasonry of communication by which whatever
occurs is flashed up and down both banks. They know all
about the boats and who are on them, and tlie name of the
dragomans, and hear of all the accidents and disasters.

There was an American this year on the river by the name
of Smith — not that I class the coming of Smith as a disaster —
who made the voyage on a steamboat. He did not care much
about temples or hieroglyphics, and he sought to purchase no
antiquities. He took his enjoyment in another indulgence.
Having changed some of his pounds sterling into copper paras,
he brought bags of this money with him. "When the boat
stopped at a town Smith did not go ashore. He stood on deck
and flung his coppers with a free hand at the group of idlers he
was sure to find there. But Smith combined amusement with
his benevolence, by throwing his largesse into the sand and into
the edge of the river, where the recipients of it would have to
fight and scramble and dive for what they got. When he cast
a handful there was always a tremendous scrimmage, a rolling
of body over body, a rending of garments, and a tumbling into
the river. This feat not only amused Smith, but it made him
the most popular man on the river. Fast as the steamer went,
his fame ran before him, and at every landing there was sure
to be a waiting crowd, calling " Smit, Smit." There has been
no one in Egypt since Cambyses who has made so much stir as
Smit.

I should not like to convey the idea that the inhabitants here
are stupid ; far from it ; they are only ignorant, and oppressed
by long misgovernment. There is no inducement for any one
to do more than make a living. The people have sharp counte-
nances, they are lively, keen at a bargain, and, as we said,
many of them expert thieves. They are full of deceit and cun-
ning, and their afiability is unfailing. Both vices and good
qualities are products not of savagery, but of a civilization worn
old and threadbare. The Eastern civilization generally is only
one of manners, and I suspect that of the old Egyptian was no
more.

These people may or may not have a drop of the ancient

i68

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

Egyptian blood in them ; they may be no more like the Egyptians
of the time of the Pharoahs than the present Eui-opoan J(;w8
are like the Jews of Judea in Herod's time ; but it is evident
that, in all the changes jn tlie occupants of the Nile valley, there
has been a certain continuity of habits, of modes of life, a hold-
ing to ancient traditions ; the relation of men to th(5 soil is
little changed. The Biblical i)atriarchs, fathers of nomadic
tribes, have their best repi'esentutivea to-day, in mode ol life
and even in poetical and highly figurative speech, not in
Israelite bankers in London nor in Israelite beggars in Jei'usa-
lem, but in the Bedaween of the desert. And I think the
patient and shaip-witted, but never educated, Egyptians of old
times are not badly represented by the present settlers in the
Nile valley.

There are ages of hereditary strength in the limbs of the
Egyptian women, who were here, carrying these big water-jars,
oefore Menes turned the c< se of the Nile at Memphis. I
saw one to-day sat down on her heels before a full, jar that
could not weigh less than a hundred pounds, lift it to her head
with her hands, and then rise stiaight up with it, as if the
muscles of her legs were steel. The jai*s may be heavier than
I said, for I find a full one not easy to lift) and I never saw an
Egyptian man touch one. fit or '

We go on towards Thebes slowly ; though the river is not
swifter here than elsewhere,- we have the feeling tlint we are
pulling up-hill. We come in the afternoon to Negiideh, and
into one of the prettiest scenes on the Nile. The bouses of the
old town are all topped with pigeon towers, and thousands of
these birds are circling about the palm-groves or swooping in
large flocks along the shore. The pigeons seem never to be
slain by the inhabitants, but are kept for the sake of the fertirt?
lizer they furnish. It is the correct thing to build a secondo:
story to your house for a deposit of this kind. The inhabitants'
here are jiearly all Copts, but we see a Roman Catholic Church
with its cross ; and a large wooden cross stands in the midst of
the village — a singular sight in a Moslem country.

A large barge lies here waiting for a steamboaL to tow it».v.
to Keneh. It is crowded, packed solidly, with young fellowtt i
who have been conscripted foi* the army, so that it looks like a-
floating hulk covered by a gigantic swarm of black bees. And

MIDWINTER IN EGYPT.

i60

they are all buzzing in a continuous hum, as if tho queen bee
had not arrived. On the shore aie circleH of womeri, seated in
the sand, wailing r id mourning jih if for the dead — the mothers
and wives of the men ^ho have just been seized for the service
of their country. We all respecjt ^'rief, and female ^rief alM)ve
all ; but these women enter into grief iw if it were a pleasure,
and aj)pear to enjoy it. If the son of one of the women in
the village is conscripted, all the women join in with lier in
mourning.

I presume there are many hard canes of separation, and that
there is real grief enough in the scene before us. The exj)res-
sion of it certainly is not wanting; i. lays of women relieve
those who have wailed long t^nough ; and T see a little clay hut
into which the women go, I have no doubt for refi'eshments,
and from which issues a burst of sorrow evei-y time the door
opens.

Yet I suppose that there is no doubt that the conscription
(much as I hate the trade of the soldier) is a good thing for the
boys and men drafted, and for Rgypt. Shakirr Pasha told us
that this is the first conscription in fifteen years, and that it
does not take more than two per cent, of the men liable to mili-
tary duty — one or two from a village. Tliese lumpish and
ignorant louts are put for the first time in their lives under
discipline, are taught to obey ; they learn to read and write,
and those who show aptness and brightness have an opf)oi unity,
in the technical education organized by (General Stone, to be
come something more than common soldiers. When these men
have served their time, and return to their villages, they will
bring with them some ideas of the w orld and some habits of
discipline and subordination. It is probably the speediest way,
this conscription, by which the dull clodishness of Egypt can
be broken up. I suppose that in time we shall discover some-
thing better, but now the harsh discipline of the military ser-
vice is often the path by which a nation emerges into a useful
career.

Leaving this scene of a woe over which it is easy to be philo-
sophical — the raw recruits, in good spirits, munching black
bread on the barge while the women howl on shore — we cele-
brate the night of the New Year by sailing on, till presently
the breeze fails us, when it is dark ; the sailors get out the

'.»

Imi

170

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

small anchor forward, and the steersman calmly lets the sail
jibe, and there in a shock, a prospect of shipwreck, and a great
tumult, everybody commanding, and no «>ne doing anything to
prevent the boat capsizing or stranding. It i» exactly like beys'
play, but at length wo get out of the tangle, and go on. Heaven
knows how, with much pushing and hauling, and calling uyKyii
" Allah" and " Mohammed."

No. We are not going on, but fast to the bottom, near the
shore.

In the morning we are again tracking with an occasional
l)uff of wind, and not more than ten miles from Luxor. We
can, however, outwalk the boat; and we find the country very
attractive and surprisingly rich ; the gioat fields of wheat^,
growing rank, testify to the fertility of tl ) soil, and when the '
fields are dotted with palm trees the picture is beautiful.

It is a scene of wide cultivation, teeming with an easy, ragged,
and abundant life. The doleful sakiyas are creaking in theirf
ceaseless labor ; frequent mud-villages dot with brown the green
expanse, villages abounding in yellow dogs and coffee-colored
babies; men are working in the fields, directing the irrigating
streams, digging holes for melons and small vegetables, and
ploughing. The plough is simply the iron-pointed stick that
has been used so long, and it scratches the ground five or six
inches deep. The effort of the government to make the
peasants use a modern plongh, in the Delta, failed. Besides
the wheat, we find large cotton-fields, the plant in yellow blos-
soms, and also ripening, and sugar-cane. With anything like
systematic, intelligent agriculture, what harvests this land would
yield !

" Good morning !"

The words were English, the speaker was one of two eager
Arabs, who had suddenly appeared at our side.

" Good morning. O, yes. Me guide Goorna."

"WhatisGoornar

" Yes. Temp de Goorna. Come bime by."

"What is Goorna?'

" Plenty. I go you. You want buy any antiques ? Come
bime by."

" Do you live in Goorna V*

" All same. Memnonium, Grooma, I show all gentlemens.
Me guide. Antiques I plenty. Come bime by."

MIDWINTER IN EGYPT.

171

Come Bime By's comrade, an older man, Iopo<l along by hiH
sido unable to join in this intelligent conversation, but it turn^
ed out that he was the real guide, and all the bettor in that ho
made no pretence of speaking any English.

" Can you get us a mummy, a real one, in the original package,
that hasn't been opened V

" You like. Come plenty mummy. Used bo. Not now.
You like, I get. Come bime by, hookra."

"We are in fact on the threshold of great Thebes. Those are
two of the prowlera among its sepulchres, who have 'spied our
dahabeiih approaching from the rocks above the plain, and have
come to prey on us. They prey equally upon the living and the
dead, but only upon the dead for the benefit of the living.
They try to supply the demand which we tourists create. They
might themselves be content to dwell in the minor tombs, in
the plain, out of which the dead were long ago ejected ; but
Egyptologists have set them the example, and taught them the
profit of digging. If these honest fellows cannot always find
the ancient scarabaii and the vases we want, they manufacture
very good imitations of them. So that their industry is not
altogether so ghastly as it may appear.

We are at the north end of the vast plain upon which Thebes
stood ; and in the afternoon we land, and go to visit the nor-
thernmost ruin on the west bank, the Temple of Koorneh
(Qoorneh), a comparatively modern structure, begun by Sethi
I., a great warrior and conqueror of the nineteenth dynasty,
before the birth of Moses.

'■'tail

',!

..-.OS)

CHAPTEIIXV.

AMONQ THE RUINS OF THEBES.

)tT need not fear that you are to have inflicted upon
you a description of Thebes, its ruins of temples, it»
statues, obelisks, pylons, tombs, holes in the ground,
mummy-pits and mounds, with an attempt to recon-
struct the fabric of its ancient splendor, and present
you, gratis, the city as it wa° thirty-five hundred years ago,
when Egypt was at the pinnacle of her glory, the feet of her
kings were on the necks of every nation, and this, her capital,
gorged with the spoils of near and distant maraudings, the
spectator of triumph succeeding triumph, the depot of all that
was precious in the ancient world, at or<^e a treasure-house and
a granary, ruled by an aristocracy of cruel and ostentatious
soldiers, and crafty and tyrannical priests, inhabited by abject
Egyptians and hordes of captive slaves — was abandoned to a
sensuous luxury rivalling that of Rome in her days of greatest
wealth and least virtue in man or woman.

I should like to do it, but you would go to sleep before you
were half through it, and forget to thank the cause of your
comfortable i-epose. We can see, however, in a moment, the
uniqxie situation of the famous town.

We shall have to give up, at the outlet, the notion of Homer's
" hundred-gated Thebes." It is one of his generocities of speech.
There never were any walls about Thebes, and it never needed
any; if it had any ^ates they must have been purely ornamental
structures; and perhaps the pylons of the many temples were
called gates. If Homer Lad been more careful in slinging
around his epithets he would have saved us a deal of troubla.
Nature prepared a place here for a vast city. The valley of

_'<^-,

AMONG THE RUINS OF THEBES.

^73

the Nile, narrow above and below, suddenly spreads out into a
great circular plain, the Arabian and Libyan ranges of moun-
tains falling back to make room for it. In the circle of these
mountains, which are bare masses of limestone, but graceful and
bold in outline, lies the plain, with some undulation of surface,
but no hills : the rim of the setting sun is grey, pink, purple,
according to the position of the sun ; the enclosure is green as
the emerald. The Nile cuts this plain into two unequal parts.
The east side is the broader, and the hills around it are neither
so near the stream nor so high as the Libyan range.

When the Nilo first burst into this plain it seems to have
been undecided wlia^ ourse to take through it. I think it has
been undecided ev.;i '^ince, and has wandered about, shifting
from bluff to blu..', ia the long ages. Where it enters, its
natural course would be under the eastern hills, and there, it
seems to me, it once ran. Now, however, it sweeps to the
westward, leaving the larger pordon of the plain on the right
bank.

The situation is this : on the east side of the river are the
temple of Luxor on a slight elevation, and the modern village
built in and around it : a mile and a half below and further
from the I'iver, are the vast ruins of KakTsak ; two or three
miles north east of Karr.ak are some isolated columns and
remains of temples. On the west side of the river is the great
necropolis. The crumbling Libyan hills are pierced with tombs.
The desert near them is nothing but a cemetry. In this desert
are the ruins of the great temples, Medeenet Hdboo, Dayr el
Bahree, the Memnonium (or Rameboum, built by Rameses II. ,
who succeeded in affixing his name to as many things in Egypt
as Michael Angelo did in Italy), the temple of Koorneh, and
several smaller ones. Advanced out upon the cultivated plain,
a mile or so from the Memnonium, rtand the two Colossi. Over
beyond the first range of Libyan hills, or precipices, are the
Tombs of the Kings, in a wild gorge, approached from the north
by a winding sort of caiion, a defile so hot and savage that a
mummy passing through it couldn't have had much doubt of
the place he was going to.

The ancient city of Thebes spread from its cemetery under
and in the Libyan hills, over the plain bej ond Karaak. Did
the Nile divide that city ? Or did the Nile run under the
eastern bluff and leave the plain and city c e.

174

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

It is one of the most delightful questions in the world, for no
one knows anything about it, nor ever can know. Why, then,
discuss it ] Is it not as important as most of the questions we
discuss I What, then, would become of learning and scholar-
ship, if we couldn't dispute about the site of Troy, and if we
all agreed that the temple of Pandora Regina was dedicated to
Neptune and not to Jupiter 1 I go in for united Thebes.

Let the objector consider. Let him stand upon one of the
terraces of Dayr el Bahree, and casting his eye over the plain
and the Nile in a straight line to Karm^k, notice the conform-
ity of directions of the lines of both temples, and that their
avenues of sphinxes produced would have met ; and let him say
whether he does not think they did meet.

Let the objector remei^ber that the Colossi, which now stand
in an alluvial soil that buries their bases over seven feet and is
annually inundated, were originally on the hard sand of the
desert ; and that all the arable land of the west side has been
made within a period easily reckoi 'd ; that every year adds to
it the soil washed from the eastern bank.

Farther, let him see hov; rapidly the river is eating away the
bank at Luxov ; wearing its way back again, is it not ? to the
old channel under tho AraV^an blufi", which is still marked. The
temple at Luxor is only a few rods from the river. The English
native consul, who built his house between the pillars of the
temple thirty years ago, reihembers that, at that time, he used
to saddle his donkey wlienever he wanted to go to the river.
Observation of the land and stream above, at Erment, favors
the impression that the river once ran on the east side and that
it is working its wav back to the old channel.

The village of Element is about eight miles above Luxor, and
on the west side of the river. An intelligent Arab at Luxor
told me that one hundred and fifty years ago Erment was on
the east side. It is an ancient village, and boasts ruins ; among
the remaining sculptures is an authentic portrait of Cleopatra,
who appears to ha^^e sat to all the stone-cutters in Upper Egypt.
Here then is an instance of the Nile going round a town instead
of washing it awaj'.

One thing more : Karnak is going to tumble into a heap
some day, Great H;all of Columns and all. It is slowly having
its foundations sapped by inundations and leachings from the

AMONG THE RUINS OF THEBES.

175

heap
laving
the

Nile, Now, does it stand to reason that Osirtasen, who was a
sensible king and a man of family ; that the Thothmes people,
and especially Hatasoo Thothmes, the woman who erected the
biggest obelisk ever raised ; and that the vain Rameses II., who
spent hia life in an effort to multiply his name and features in
stone, so that time couldn't rub them out, would have spent ao
much money in structures that the Nile was likely to eat away
in three or four thousand years 1

The objector may say that the bed of the Nile has risen ; and
may ask how the river got over to the desert of the west side
withouf destroying Karnak on its way. There is Erment, for
an example.

Have you now any idea of the topogi-aphy of the plain 1 I
ought to say that along the western bank, opposite Luxor,
stretches a long sand island joined to the main, in low water,
and that the wide river is very shallow on the west side.

We started for Koorneh across a luxuriant wheat-field, but
soon struck the desert and the dehHs of the old city. Across
the river we had our first view of the pillars of Luxor and the
pylons of Karnak, sights to heat the imagination and set the
blood dancing. But how far off they are ; on what a grand
scale this Thebes is laid out — if one forgets London and Paris
and New York.

The desert we i)ass over is full of rifled tombs, hewn hori-
zontally in rocks that stand above the general level. Some of
them are large chambers, with pillars left for support. The
doors are open and the sand drifts in and Dver the rocks in
which they are cut. A good many of them are inhabited by
miserable Arabs, who dwell in them and in huts among them.
I fancy that, if the diBposseased mummies should reappear, they
would differ little, except perhaps in being better clad, from
these bony living persons who occupy and keep warm their
sepulchres.

Our guide leads us at a lively pace through these holes and
heaps of the dead, over sand hot to the feet, under a sky blue
and burning, for a mile and a half. He is the first Egyptian
I have seen who can walk. He gets over the ground with a
sort of skipping lope, barefooted, and looks not unlike a tough
North American Indian. As he swings along, holding hia thin
cotton robe with one hand, wo feel as if we were following a

176

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

shade despatched to conduct us to some Unhappy Hunting-
Grounds.

Near the temple are some sycamore-trees and a collection of
hovels called Koorneh, inhabited by a swarm of ill-conditioned
creatui'es, who are not too proud to beg and probably are not
ashamed to steal. They beset us there and in the ruins to buy
all manner of valuable antiquities, strings of beads from mum-
mies, hands and legs of mummies, small green and blue images,
and the like, and raise such a clamor of importunity that one
can hold no communion, if he desires to, with the spirits of
Sethi I., and his son Rameses II., who spent the people's money
in erecting these big columns and putting the vast stones on
top of them.

We are impressed with the massiveness and sombreness of
the Egyptian work, but this temple is too squat to be effective,
and is scarcely worth visiting, in comparison with others,
except for its sculptures. Inside and out ii is covered with
them ; either the face of the stone f^v »vay, leaving the figures
in relief, or the figures are cut in .ne sides and left in relief
in the centre. The rooms are small — from the necessary limi-
tations of roof-stones that stretched from wall to wall, or from
column to column ; but all the walls, in darkness or in light,
are covered with carving.

The sculptures are all a glorification of the Pharaolis. We
should like to know the unpronounceable names of the artists,
who, in the conventional limits set them by their religi'^n,
drew pictures of so much expression, and figures so life-like, anJ.
chiseled these stones with such faultless execution ; but there
are no names here but of Pharaoh and of the gods.

The king is in battle, driving his chariot into the thick of the
fight ; the king crosses rivers, destix)ys walled cities, routs
armies ; the king appears in a triumphal procession with
chained captives, sacks of treasure, a menagerie of beasts, and
a garden of exotic trees and plants borne from conquered
countries ; the king is making offerings to his predecessors, or
to gods many, hawk-headed, cow-headed, ibis-headed, man-
headed. The king's scribe is taking count of the hands, piled
in a heap, of the men the kin^ has slain ir ^t-le. The king,
a gigantic figure, the heighi; of a pylon, •/ -■^'^^n;^ hy Jn*; .air of the
head a bunch of prisoDers, whom he ib itb/'iv ta sin with a

, (, <

AMONG THE RUINS OF THEBES.

177

an^.v

the
outs
with
and
lered
s, or
man-
ned
pting,
fthe
■th a

raised club — as one would cut cff the tops of a handful of
radishes. . .,^..

There is a veiii'^olf'^^'^ig irijun '* running through them all.
The same swagger and boastfulness, and cruelty to captives. I
was glad to see one woman in the mythic crowd, doing the
generous thing : Isis, slim and pretty, oflfers her breast to her
son, and Horus stretches up to the stone opportunely and takes
his supper like a little gentleman. And there is color yet in
her cheek and robe that was put on when she was thirty-five
hundred years younger than she is now.

Towards the south we saw the more extensive ruins of the
Memnonium, and, more impressive still, the twin Colossi, one of
them the so-called vocal statue of Memnon, standing up in the
air against the evening sky more than a mile distant. They
rose out of a calm green plain of what seemed to be wheat, but
which was a field of beans. The friendly green about them
seemed to draw them nearer to us in sympathy. At tliis distance
we could not see how battered they were. And the unspeakable
calm of these giant figui-es, sitting with hands on knees, front-
ing the east, like the Sphinx, conveys the same impre&sion of
lapse of time and of endurance that the pyramids give.

The sunset, as we went 1 ack across the plain, was gorgeous
in Vermillion, crimson, and yellow. The Colossi dominated the
great expanse, and loomed up in the fading light like shapes
out of the mysterious past.

Our dahabeiih had crept up to the east side of the i.^land, and
could only be reached by passing through sand and water. A
deep though not wide channel of the Nile ran between us and
the island. We were taken over this in a deep tub of a ferry-
boat. Laboriously wading through the sand and ploughed fields
of the island, we found our boat anchored in the etream, and
the shore so shallow that even the sandal could not land. The
sailors took us off to the row-boat on their backs.

In the evening the dahabeeh is worked across and secured to
the crumbling bank of th6 Luxor. And the accomplishment of
a voyage of four hundred and ^liy jniles in sixteen days is, of
course, announced by rockets. *

CHAPTER XVI.

HISTORY IN STONE.

k
f

NEVER rniiis at Thebes ; you begin with that fact.
(v^J ^"^ hxit everybody is anxious to have it rain, so that he can
Ife^ say, *' It vained wh en I was at Thebes, for Uie fii-st time
in four tlioui;and y; ars."

It has not rained for four thousand yeai-s, and the evidence of
this is that no representation of rain is found in any of the
sculptures on temples or monuments ; and all Egyptologists
know that what is not found thus represented has had no
existence.

To day, it rained for the first time in four thousand years.
The circumstances were these. We were crossing at sunset from
the west side to the island, in a nasty little ferry, built like a
canal-bi.irge, its depths beihg full of all \incleanliness and smell
— doni'3ys, peasants, and camels using it for crossing. (The
getting of a camel in and out of such a deep trough is a work of
time and considerable pounding and roaring of beast and men.)
The boat was propelled by two halfdad, handsome, laughing
Egyptian boys, who rowed with some crooked limbs of trees,
and sang " Ha ! Yalesah," and " Yali ! Mohammed " as they
stood and p\dled the unwieldy oars.

We were standing above the reek, on a loose platfonn of
sticks at the stem, when my comrade said, " It rains, I think
I felt a drop on my hand."

•' It can't be," I said, " it has not rained here in four thous-
and years /' and I extended my hand. I feit nc^hijm^. And
yet I could not swear that a dri^» or two did n»:>t fall into tlie
river. It had that iippearance, ixearly. And we have seen no
flies skipping on the Nile at this season.

HISTORY IN STONE.

.179

of
ink

In the sculpture we remember that the king is often repre-
sented extending his hand. He would not put it out for nothing,
for everthing done anciently in Egypt, every scratch on a rock,
has a deep and profoiind meaning. Pharaoh is in the attitude
of fearing that it is going to rain. Perhaps it did rain last night.
At any rate, there were light clouds over the sky.

The morning opens with a cool west wind, which increases
and whirls the sand in great clouds over the Libyan side of the
river, and envelopes Luxor in its dry storm. Luxor is for the
most part a collection of miserable mud-hovels on a low ridge,
with the half-buned temple for a nucleus, and a few houses of a
better sort along the bank, from which float the consular flags.

The inhabitants of Luxor live upon the winter travellers.
Sometimes a dozen or twenty gay dahabeehs and several steam-
boats are moored here, and the town assumes the appearance of
a fashionable watering-place. It is ^he best place on the river,
on the whole, considering its attractions for scholars and sight-
seers, to spend the winter, and I have no doubt it wovdd \)€i a
great resort if it had any accommotlations for visitors. But it
has not ; the stranger must live in JiIh >K>at. There in not iivleed
in the whole land of Egypt above Cairo Huch a thing m ecr> inn ;
scarcely a refiige where a clean Christian, who wishes to keep
clean, ca.n j)as8 a night, mnless it be in the house of some governor
or a palace of the Khedive. The perfection of the world's
climate in winter is, tk) be sure, higher up, in Nubia ; but that
of Thebes is good enough f>r j)eople ,1 -ustomed to Europe and
New England. With steam boa '^ making regular trips and a
railroad orawling up thf^ river, there is cHitain to be the Kameses
Hotel at Thebes l)efore long, and its rival a Thothmes House ;
together witli the Mummy R#wtaurant, and the Scarabaius
Saloon.

You need t^vD or three weeks to se*^ properly the ruins of
Thebes, though Cook's "pe^rfK^ially conducted tourists" doit
in four (Uys, and have a *<♦♦*>« of the dancing-girls btwidos. The
region to be tm veiled over is not only '^Tist (8trabf) says the city
WRS nine miles long) Hut it is exceedingly difficult getting alx)ut,
and fatigtiing if haste in neoessary. Croiwing the swift Nile in a
fwndal takes fcimo ; vou ma!«t wade '>r be carried over shallow i
to the island headi ; there is a weary walk or ride over tliis ;
another stream is to be crossetl, and then begins the work of the

i8o

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

day. You set out with a cavalcade of mules, servants, water-
carriers, and a retinue of hungry, begging Arabs, over the fields
and through the desert to the temples and tombs. The distances
are long, the sand is glaring, the incandescent sun is reflected
in hot waves from the burning Libyan chain. It requires
hours to master the plan of a vast temple in its mins, and days
to follow out the story of the wonderful people who built it, in its
marvellous sculptures — acres of inside and outside walls of
picture cut in stone.

Perhaps the easiest way of passing the time in an ancient
ruin was that of two Americans, who used to spread their rugs
in some shady court, and sit there, drinking brandy and
champagne all day, letting the ancient civilization gradually re-
construct itself in their brains.

Life on the dahabech is much as usual ; in fact, we are only
awaiting a favorable wind to pursue our voyage, expecting to
see Thebes satisfactorily on our return. Of the inhabitants and
social life of Luxor we shall have more to say by and by. We
have daily a levee of idlers on the bank, who spend twilight
hours in watching the boat; we are visited by sharp-eyed
dealers in antiquities, who pull out strings of scarabaji from
their bosoms, or cautiously produce from under their gowns a
sculptured tablet, or a stone image, or some articles from a
mummy-case — antiques really as good as new. Abd-el-Atti
sits on the forward-deck cheapening the poor chickens with old
women, and surrounded by an admiring group of Arab friends,
who sit all day smoking and sipping coffee, and kept in a lively
enjoyment by his mterminahle jfacetift', and badinage.

Uur most illustrious visitors are the American consul, All
MflToudl N'oorad, and the ICnglish consul, Mustapha Aga. Ali
is a well-featured, bronze com[)l(?xioned Arab of good family (I
tliiiik of the Ababdehs), whose brother is sheykh of a tribe at
Karnak. Jlo <^!aiinot speak £nglish, biifc hn has a iilnasanter
smile than any other Amnrican consul 1 know. Mustapha,
now very old au<l woU known to wll Nile travellers, is a vener-
able wJHo man of the VmhI, h most suavr-, courtly A tab, plausible,
and soft of H|)eech ; under his bii«hy pynbrows one sees eyes
that are keen aaiti yet glaaed with a lilui of neereoy ; the soi't of
eye that you cannot look into, but which you have no doubt
looks into you.

HISTORY IN STONE.

iSi

Mustapha, as I said, built his house between two columns of
the temple of Luxor. These magnificent columns, with flaring
lotus capitals, are half-buried in sand, and the whole area is so
built in and over by Arab habitations that little of the once
extensive and splendid structure can be seen. Indeed, the
visitor will do well to be content with the well-known poetic
view of the columns from the river. The elegant obelisk, whose
mate is in Paris, must however be seen, as well as the statues
of Kameses II. sitting behind it up to their necks in sand — as
if a sitz-bath had been prescribed. I went one day into the
interior of the huts, in order to look at some of the sculptures,
especially that of a king's chariot wl ich is shaded by a parasol
— an article which we invented throe or four thousand years
after the Egj^tians, who first used it, had gone to the shades
where parasols are useless. I was sorry that I went. The
private house I entered was a mud enclosure with a creaky
wooden door. Opening this I found myself in what appeared
to be a private hen-yard, where babies, chickens, old women,
straw, flies, and dust, mingled with the odors of antiquity ;
about this were the rooms in which the family sleep — mere
dog-kennels. Two of the women had nose-rings put through
the right nostril, hoops of gold two or three inches across. I
cannot say that a nose-ring a Ids to a woman's beauty, but if
I had to manage a harem of these shai*p-tongued creatures I
should want rings in their noses — it would need only a slight
pull of the cord in the ring to cause the woman to rry, In
Oriental language, *'^^ here thou goest, I will go." The parasol
8<MiIpture was half-covei'ed by the mud-wall and the oven ; but
there wm Pharaoh visible, riding on in gluiy through all this
8v|[Vialor. The Pharaohs and priests never let one of the com-
mon people set foot inside these superb temples ; and there is
a sort of base satisfaction now in seeing the ignoranf and
oppressed living in their palaces, and letting the hens roost on
Pharaoh's sun-shade. But it ^'^as diflicult to make picturesque
the inside of this temple-palace, even with all the flowing rags
of its occupants.

.M We spend a day in a preliminary visit to the Memnoniuin
Jtndi the vast ruins kmiwn as those of Medoenet if 4boo, A mong
CUV attendants over the plain are half a dozen little girls, bright,
smiling lassos, who salute us with a cheery "Good-morning,'

iBz

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

H-'l

and devote themselves to us the whole day, Each one carries
on her head a light, thin vrAter-kooUeh, that would hold about
a quart, balancing it pei-fcctly as she runs along. I have seen
mere infants carrying very small kooUehs, beginninj^ thus young
to learn the art of walking with the large ones, which is to be
the chief business of their lives.

One of the girls, who says her name is Fatimeh (the name
of the I'rophet's favonte daughter is in great request), is very
pretty, and may be ten or eleven years old, not far from the;
marriaj'eable age. She has black hair, large, soft, black eyes, J
the lids stained with kohl, dazzling white teuth and a sweet '
smile. She wears cheap earrings, a necklace of bi'ads and
metal, a,rA & flight ring on one hand ; her finger-nails and the
palms of her little hands are stained with henna. For drestf"^
she has a sort of shawl used as a head-veil, and an ample outer^^*^
garment, a mantle of dark-blue cotton, ornamented down the'
front seams with colored beads — a coc^uettish touch that con-'^
nects her with her sisters of the ancient regime who sei^m td '
have used the cylindrical blue bead even more profusely than
ladies now-a-day the jet "bugles," in dress trimming. I fes^'
the pretty heathen is beginning to be aware of her attractions.
The girls run patiently beside us or wait lor us at the
temples all day, bruising their feet on the stony ways, getting-
nothing to eat unless we give them something, chatting ch^r-
fully, smiling at us and using their little stock of English to
gain our good will, constantly ready with their koollehs, and
say nothing of backsheesh until they are about to leave us at
night and go to their homes. But ^\ hen they begin to ask, and
get a copper or two, they beg with a mixture of pathos and
anxiety and a use of the pronouns that is irresistible.
"You tired. Plenty backsheesh for little girl. Yes."
"Why don't you give us backsheesh 1 We are tired too,"
we reply.

" Yes. Me give you backsheesh you tii-ed all day."
Fatimeh only uses her eyes, conscious already of her powei-.
They are satisfied with a piastre ; which the dragoman says is
too much, and enough to spoil them. But, after all, five cents
is not a magnificent gift, from a stranger who has come five
thousand miles, to a little ffirl in the heart of Africa, who has
lighted up the desert a whole iay with her charming smiles?

HISTORY IN STONE.

'83

The don key -boy pulls the strings of pathos for his back-
sheesh, having no beauty to use ; ho says, "Father and mother
all dead." Seeras to have belonged to a harem.

Before we can gain space or quiet either to examine or enjoy
a temple, we have to free ourselves of a crowd of adhesive men,
boys, and girls, who prr s upon us their curiositicH, relics of
the dead, whose only value is their antiquity. The price of
these relics is of course wholly *' fancy," and I presume that
Thebes, where the influence of tlio antique is mowt strong, is
the best market in the world for these trifles ; ind that, how,
ever cheaply they may be bought hci-e, they fetcli a better i)rice
than they would elsewhere.

I supp<jse if I were to stand in Broadway and oflfer pasb i-s-by
such a mummy's hand as this which is now pressed upon my
notice, I could scarc(3ly give it away. This hand has been
"doctored" to sell; the present owner has re-wrapj>ed its
bitumen soaked flesh in mummy-cloth, and partially concealed
three rings on the fingers. Of course the hand is old and the
cheap rings are new. It is pleasant to think of these mer-
chants in dried flesh prowlinsj about among the dead, selecting
a limb here and there that they think will decorate well, and
tricking or.c with cheap jew Iry these mortal fragments. This
hand, which the rascal hah chosen, is small, and may have
been a source of pride tO its owner lov^ago; somebody else
may have been fond of it, though even he — the lover — would
not care to hold it long now. A pretty little hand ; I suppose
it has in its better days given many a carewb and love-pat, and
many a slap in the face ; belonged to one of the people, or it
would not have been found in a common mummy-pit ; perhaps
the hand of a sweet water-bearer like Fatimeh, perhaps of
some slave-girl whose fatal beauty threw her into the drag-net
that the Pharaohs occasionally cast along • the Upper Nile —
slave-hunting raids that appear on the monuments as great
military achievements. This hand, nake<l, supple, dimpled,
henna-tipped, mAy have been offered for nothing once ; there
are wanted for it four pijistres now, rings and all. A dear
little hand !

Great quantities of antique beads are offered us in strings,
to one end of whi'h is usually tied a small image of Osiris, or
the winged sun, or the scarabajua with w ings. The inexhaust.

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184

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS,.

ibid supply of these beads and images leads many to think that
they are manufactured to Guit the demand. But it is not so.
Their blue is of a shade that is not produced now-a-days. And,
besides, there is no need to manufacture what exists in the
mummy-pits in such abundance. The beads and bugles are of
glass; they were much used for necklaces and are found cover*
ing the breasts of mummies, woven in a network of various
patterns, like old bead pui-ses. The vivid blue color was given
by copper. * ,,!^.

The little blue images of Osiris which are so abundant are
also genuine. They are of porcelain, a sort of pcrcelain-glass,
a sand-paste, glazed, colored blue, and baked, They are found
in great quantities iu ail tombs ; and it was the Egyptian prac-
tice to thickly strew with them the gi'ound upon whidi the
foundations and floors of temples were laid. These images
found in tombs are more properly figures of the dead under thiB
form of Osiris, and the hieroglyphics on them sometimes give
the name and quality of the departed. They are in fact a sort
of " p.P.c." visiting- cai-d, which the mummy has left for future
ages. The Egyptians succeeded in handing^ themselves down
to posterity ; but the manner in which postenty has received
them is not encouraging to us to salt ourselves down for

another age.

^iUll Jill

;i-.i JHO-Jii .i.<ajijjiv>.^ Jt

The Memnonium, or more properly Katnesetitfi, since it was
built by Rameses II., ?.nd. covered with his deedc, writ in stone,
gives you even in its ruina a very good idea of one of the most
symmetrical of Egyptian ten^pl^s ; the vast colamns of its great
hall attest Its magnificence, while the elaboration of its sculpture,
wanting the classic purity of the earlier work found in the
tombs of Geezeh and Sakkara, speak of a time when art was
greatly stimulated by royal patronage.

It was the practice of the Pharaohs when they came to the
throne to make one or more military expeditions of conquest
and plunder, slay as many enemies as possible (all people being
considered " enemies " who did not pay tribute), cut as wide a
swath of desolation over the earth as they were able, loot the
cities, drag into captiv'ty the pleasing women, and return laden
with treasure and slaves and the evidences of enlarged dominion.
Then they spent the remainder of their virtuous days in erect-
ing huge temples and chiseling their exploits on them. Tliii
is, in a word, the history of the Pharaohs.

HISTORY IN STONE.

«A

• f

But I think that Rameses II., who wa.s the handsomest and
most conceited swell of them all, was not so particular about
doing the deeds as he was about recording them. He could not
have done mucsh else in his long reign than erect the temples,
carve the hieroglyphics, and set up the statues of himself, which
proclaim his fame. He literally spread himself all over Egypt,
and must have kept the whole country busy, quarrying, and
building, and c^arving for his glorification. That he did a tenth
of the deeds h€! is represented performing, no one believes now ;
and I take a vindictive pleasure in abusing him. By some
historic fatality he got the name of the Great Sesostris, and
was by tradition credited with the exploits of Thothmee III.,
the greatest of the Pharaohs, a real hero and statesmaWj during
whose reign iit was no boast to say that Egypt " placed her
frontier where it pleased herself," and with those of his father
Sethi I., a usurper in tho line, but a great soldier, ^i-^'^-j^i^'ia-^t
However, this Rameses did not have good Itt^^k* Wi# hi^
gigantic statues ; I do not know one that is not shattered,
defaced, or thrown down. .This one at the Rameseum is only
H wreck of gigantic fragments. It was a monolith of syenite,
and if it was the largest statue in Egypt, as it is said, it must
have been over sixty feet high. The arithmeticians say that
it weighed about eight hundred and eighty-sevien tons, having
a solid content of three times the largest obelisk in the world,
that at Karnak. These figures convey no idea to my mind,
'-'hen a stone man is as big as a four-story house, I cease to
grasp him. I climbed upon the arm of this Rameses, and
found his name cut deeply in the hard granite, the cutting
polished to the very bottom like the finest intaglio. The
polishing alone of this great mass must have been an incredible
labor. How v/^as it moved from itr. quarry in Assouan, a hun-
dred and thiri;y miles distant? And how was it broken into

tthe thouyand fragments ir. which it lies'? An earthquake
would not do it. There are no marks of drilling or the use of
an explosive material. But if Cambyses broke it — and Cam-
byses must ha\e been remembered in Egypt as Napoleon I. is

;^,in Italy, the one for smashing, the other for stealing — he had
something as destructive as nitro-glycerine.

Rameses II. impressed into his service not only art but

^x literature. One of his achievements depicted here is his victory

1 86

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

over the Khitas (Hittites), an Asiatic tribe ; the king is in the
single-handed act of driving the enemy over the river Orontes,
— -a blueish streak meandering down tlie wall. This scene is
the subject of a famous poem, known as the Poem of Pantaoor,
which is carved in hieroglyphics at Karnak and at Luxor.
The battle is very spiritedly depicted here. On the walls are
many side-scenes and acts characteristic of the age and the
people. The booty from the enemy is collected in a heap ; and
the quantity of gold is indicated by the size of a bag of it which
is breaking the back of an ass ; a soldier is pulling the board
of his prisoner, and another is beating his captives, after the
brutal manner of the Egyptians.

The temples at Medeenet Haboo are to me as interesting as
those at Karnak. There are two ; the smaller one is of various
ages ; but its oldest portions were built by Amun-noo-het, the
sister of Thothmes, the woman who has left more monuments
of her vigor than any other in history, and, woman-like,
the monuments are filial offerings, and not erections to her own
greatness ; the larger temple is the work of Rameses III. The
more you visit it, the more you will be impressed with the
splendor of its courts, halls, and columns, and you may spend,
days in the study of its sculptures without exhausting them.

Along these high-columned halls stalk vast processions, armies
going to battle, conquerors in triumphal entiy, priests and
soldiers bearing sacrifices, and rows of stone deities of the
Egyptian pantheon receiving them in a divine indifference.
Again the battle rages, the chaiiots drive furiously, arrows fill
the air, the foot-troops press forward with their big spears and
long shields, and the king is slaying the chief, who tumbles
from his car. The alarm has spread to the country beyond ;
the terrified inhabitants are in flight ; a woman, such is the
detail, is seen to snatch her baby and run into the woods,
leaving her pot of broth cooking on the fire.

Tho carving in this temple is often very deep, cut in four or
five inches in the syenite, and beautifully polished to the bottom,
as if done with emery. The colors that once gave each figure
its character, are still fresh, red, green, blue, and black. The
ceilings of some of the chambers yet represent the blue and
star-sprinkled sky. How surpassingly brilliant these must
have been once ! We see how much the figure owed to color,

HISTORY IN STONE.

.87

when the color designated the different nationalities, the enemies
or the captives, the shade of their skin, hair, beard and gar-
ments. We recognize even textures of cloth, and the spotted
leopai-d-skins worn by the priests. How gay are the birds of
varied plumage !

Thfc.re is considerable variety in sculpture here, but, after all,
an endless repetition on wall after wall, in chamber after cham-
ber, of the same royal persons, goda, goddesses, and priests.
There is nothing on earth so tiresome as a row of stone gods, in
whom I doubt if anybody ever sincerely believed, standing to
receive the offerings of a Turveydrop of a king. Occasionally
the gods take turn about, and pour oil on the head of a king,
at his coronation, and with this is usually the very pretty
device of four birds flying to the four quarters of the globe to
announce the event. But whatever the scene, warlike oc
religious, it is for tha glorification of Pharaoh, all the same.
He is commonly represented of gigantic size, and all the other
human figures about him are small in comparison. It must
have kept the Pharaoh in a constantly inflated condition, to
walk these halls and behold, on all sides, his extraordinary
apotheosis. But the Pharaoh was not only king but high priest,
and the divine representative on earth of, and about to become,
in a peculiar sense, Oniris himself, at his death.

The Egyptians would have saved us much trouble if they had
introduced perspective into these pictures. It is difficult to
feel that a pond of water, a tree, and a house, one above the
other on a wall, are intended to be on the same level. We have
to accustom ourselves to figures always in profile, with the eye
cut in full as if seen i>i front, and both shoulders showing. The
hands of prisoners are tied behind them, but this is shown by
biinging both elbows-, with no sort of respect for the man's
anatomy, round to thf> side toward us, yet it is wonderful what
character and vivacity they gave to their figures, and how by
simple profile they represent nationalities and races, Ethiops,
Nubians, Jews, Assyrians, Europeans. '/ ^J i-- '-

These temples are inlaid and overlaid, and Sttrrtmnded with
heaps of rubbish, and the debris of ancient and modem mud
and unbaked-brick dwellings ; part of the great pillars are
entirely covered. The Christians once (iccupied the temples,
and there are remains of a church, and a large church, in one

i88

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

"h. '

of the vast courU, built of materials at hand, but gone to ruin
more complete than the structure around it. The early Chris-
tians hewed away the beautiful images of Osiris from the pillars
(an Osiride pillar is one upon one side of which, and the length
of it, is cut in full relief only attached at the back, a figure of
Osiris), and covered the hieroglyphics and sculptures with
plaster. They defaced these temples as the Reformers hacked
and whitewashed the cathedrals, of Germany. And sometimes
the plaster which was meant to cover forever from sight the
images of a mysterious religion, has defeated the intentions of
the plasterers, by preserving, to an age that has no fear of stone
gods, the ancient pictures, sharp in outline and fresh in colour.

It is indeed marvelous that so much has been preserved, con-
sidering what a destructive creature man is, and how it pleases
his ignoble soul to destroy the works of his forerunners on the
earth. The earthquake has shaken up Egypt time and again,
but Cambyses was worse ; he was an earthquake with malice
and purpose, and left little standing that he had leisure to over-
turn. The ancient Christians spent a great deal of time in
rubbing out the deep-cut hieroglyphics, chiseling away the
heads of strange gods, covering the pictures of ancient cere-
monies and sacrifices, and painting on the walls their own rude
conceptions of holy persons and miraculous occurrences. And
then the Moslems came, hating all images and pictorial repre-
sentations alike, and scraped away or battered with bullets the
work of pagans and Christians.

There is much discussion whether these so-called temples
were not palaces and royal residences as well as religious
edifices. Doubtless many of them served a double purpose ;
the great pylons and propylons having rooms in which men
might have lived, who did not know what a comfortable house
is. Certainly no palaces of the Pharaohs have been discovered
in Egypt, if these temples are not palaces in part ; and it is not
to be supposed that the Pharaoh dwelt in a mud-house with a
palm-roof, like a common mortal. He was the religious as well
as the civil head, Pope and Caesar in one, and it is natural that
he should have dwelt in the temple precincts.

The pyramidal towers of the great temple of Medeenet
Haboo are thought to be the remains of the palace of Rameses
III. Here indeed the Egyptologists point out his harem and

HISTORY IN STONE.

189

the private apartments, when the favoured of Amun-Re unbent
himself from his usual occupation of seizing a bunch of captives
by the hair and slashing oft' their heads at a blow, in the society
of his women and the domestic enjoyments of a family man.
Here we get an insight into the private life of the awful
monarch, and are able to penetrate the mysteries of his retire-
ment. It is from such sculptures as one finds here that scholars
have been able to rehabilitate old Egyptian society and tell us
not only what the Egyptians did but what they were thinking
about. The scholar, to whom we are most indebted for the re-
construction of the ancient life of the Egyptians, Sir Gardner
Wilkinson, is able not only to describe to us a soiree, from
paintings in tombs at Thebes, but to tell us what the company
talked about and what their emotions were. ** In the mean-
time," he says, " the conversation became animated" (as it
sometimes does at parties) " and the ladies fluently discussed
the question of dress," " the maker of an earring and the shop
where it was purchased was anxiously inquired after." On one
occasion, when the guests were in "raptures of admiration"
over something, an awkward youth overturned a pedestal,
creating great confusion and frightening the women, who
screamed; however, no one was hurt, and harmony being
restored, " the incident afibrded fresh matter for conversation,
to be related in full details to their friends when they returned
home."

This is very wonderful art, and proves that the Egyptians
excelled all who came after them in the use of the chisel and
brush ; since they could not only represent in a drawing on the
wall of a tomb the gaiety of an evening party and the subject
of its conversation, but could make the picture convey as well
the talk of the guests to their friends after they returned home 1

We had read a good deal about the harem of Rameses III.,
and it was naturally the first object of our search at Medeenet
Haboo. At the first visit we could not find it, and all our ex-
pectation of his sweet domestic life was unrealized. It was in
vain that we read over the description : — " Here the king is
attended by his harem, some of whom present him with flowers,
or wave before him fans and flabella ; and a favourite is caressed,
or invited to divert his leisure hours with a game of draughts."
We climbed everywhere, and looked into every room, but the

190

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

I' <

king and his harem were not visible. And yet the pictures,
upon which has been built all this fair fabric of the domestic
life of llameses, must exist somewhere in these two pyramidal
towers. And what a gallery of delights it must be, we thought.
The king attended by his harem 1

Upon a subsequent visit, we insisted that the guide should
take us into this harem. That was not possible, but he would
show it to us. We climbed a broken wall, from the top of
which we could look up, through a window, into a small apart-
ment in the tower. The room might be ten feet by twelve in
size, probably smaller. There was no way of getting to it by
any interior stairway or by any exterior one, that we could see,
and I have no doubt that if Pharaoh lived there he climbed up
by a ladder and pulled his harem up after him.
r,. But the pictures on the walls, which we made out by tlie
help of an opera-glass, prove this to have been one of the pri-
vate apartments, they say. There are only two pictures, only
one, in fact, not defaced ; but as these are the only examples of
the interior decoration of an ancient royal palace in all Egypt,
it is well to make the nost of them. They are both drawn in
spirited outlines and are very graceful, the profile faces having
a Greek beauty. In one Rameses III., of colossal size, is re-
presented seated on an eleg&nt /auteuil, with his feet on a stool.
He wears the royal crown, a necklace, and sandals. Before him
stands a lady of his harem, clad in a high crown of lotus-stems,
a slight necklace, and sandals turned up like skates. It must
be remembered that the weather was usually very warm in
Thebes, especially on this side the river. The lady is holding
up a lotus-flower, but it is very far from the royal nose, and
indeed she stands so far off that the king has to stretch out his
arm to chuck her under the chin. The Pharaoh's beautiful
face preserves its immoi*tal calm, and the " favourite is caressed"
in accordance with the chastest requii-emeuts of high art.

In the other picture, the Pharaoh is seated as before, but he
is playing at draughts. In his left hand he holds some men,
and his right is extended lifting a piece from the draught-board.
His antagonist has been unfortunate. Her legs are all gone ;
her hand has disappeared. There remains of this " favorite"
only the outline of part of the body, the light arm and thehimd
which lifts a piece, and a suggestion of the left arm extended at

HISTORY IN STONE.

191

pictures,

domestic

)yramidal

thought.

le should
he would
le top of
all apart-
'Welve in
to it by
Jould see,
imbed up

) by the
the pri-
res, only
mples of
II Egypt,
Irawn in
« having
ze, is re-
1 a stool,
fore him
is-stems,
It must
v^arm in
holding
ose, and
out his
eautiful
iressed"
t. >(toiH

but he
e men,
i-board.
I gone ,'
vorite"
lehand
ided at

full length and pushing a lotus-bud close to the king's nose. It
is an exhibition of man's selfishness. The poor woman is not
only compelled to entertain the despot at the game, but she
must regale his fastidious and scornful nose at the same time ;
it must have been very tiresome to keep the left hand thus ex-
tended through a whole game. What a passion the Egyptians
had for the heavy perfume of this flower. They are smelling it
in all their pictures.

We climbed afterwards, by means of a heap of rubbish, into
a room similar to this one, in the other tower, where we saw
remains of the same sculpture. It was like the Egyptians to
repeat that picture five hundred times in the same palace.

The two Colossi stand half a mile east of the temple of Me-
deenes Haboo, and perhaps are the survivors of like figures
which lined an avenue to another temple. One of them is
better known to fame than any other ancient statue, and rests
its reputation on the most shadowj basis. In a line with these
statues are the remains of other colossi of nearly the same size,
buried in the alluvial deposit. These figures both represent
Amunoph III. (about 1500 or 1600 b. c); they are seated ; and
on either side of the legs of the king, and attached to the
throne, are the statues of his mother and daughter, little
women, eighteen feet high. The colossi are fifty feet high
without the bases, and must have stood sixty feet in the air
before the Nile soil covered the desert on which they were
erected. The pedestal is a solid stone thirty-three feet long.

Both were monoliths. The southern one is still one piece,
but shockingly mutilnted. The northern one is the famous
Vocal Statue of Memnon ; though why it is called of Memnon
and why " vocal" is not easily explained. It was broken into
fragments either by some marauder, or by an earthquake at the
beginning of our era, and built up from the waist by blocks of
stone, in the time of the Roman occupation, during the reign
of Septimiua Severus.

,i There was a tradition — perhaps it was only the tradition of
a 'tradition — that it used to sing every morning at sunrise. No
mention is made of this singing propei-ty, however, until after
it was overthrown ; and its singing ceased to be heard after the
Roman Emperor put it into the state in which we now see it.
It has been assumed that it used to sing, and many theories

;t't

!■* I ,1

>' i

192

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

have been invented to explain its vocal method. Very likely
the original report of this prodigy was a Greek or Roman fable ;
and the noise may have been produced by a trick for Hadrian's
benefit (who is said to have heard it) in order to keep up the
reputation of the statue.

Amunoph III. (or Amenophis, or Amen-hotep — he never
knew how to spell his name) was a tremendous slasher-about
ovor the territories of other iKJople ; there is an inscription
down at Samnah (above the second cataract) which says that he
brought, in one expedition, out of Soudan, seven hundred and
forty negro prisoners, half of wliom were women and children.
On the records which this modest man made, he is " Lord of
both worlds, absolute master, Son of the Sun." He is Horus,
the strong bull. "He marches and victory is gained, like
Horus, son of Isis, like the Sun in heaven." He also built
almost as extensively as Rameses II. ; he covered both banks
of the Nile with splendid monuments ; his structures are found
from Ethiopia to the Sinaitic peninsula. He set up his image
in this Colossus, the statue which the Greeks and Romans
called Memnon, the fame of which took such possession of the
imagination of poets and historians. They heard, or said they
heard, Memnon, the Ethiopian, one of the defeaders of Troy,
each morning saluting his mother, Aurora.

If this sound was heard, scientists think it was produced by
the action of the sun's rays upon dew fallen in the crevices of
the broken figure. Others think the sound was produced by a^^
priest who sat concealed in the lap of the fiigure and struck a
metallic stone. And the cavity and the metallic stone exist
there now. Of course the stone was put in there and the
cavity left, when the statue was repaired, it having been &
monolitli. And as the sound was never heard before the
statue was broken nor after it was repaired, the noise was not
produced by the metallic stone. And if I am required ta
laelieve that the statue sang with his head off, I begin to doubt
altogether. I incline to think that we have here only one of
those beautiful myths in which the Greeks and Romans loved
to clothe the distant and the gigantic. ,\ t>4 aaiiabiUi eui iiSiHij;

One of the means of accounting for a sound which may neyei^
have been heard, is that the priests produced it in order to
strike with awe the people. Now, the Egyptian priests never

;1,HIST0RY IN STONE.

193

cared anything about the people, and wouldn't have taken the
trouble ; indeed, in the old times " people" wouldn't have been
allowed anywhere within Huch a 8acred inclosure as this in
which the Colossus stood. And, besides, the priest could not
have got into the cavity mentioned. When the statue was a
monolith, it would puzzle him to get in ; and there is no stair-
way or steps by wliioh ho could ascend now. We sent an Anib
up, who scaled tlie broken fmgments with extreme difficulty,
and struck the stone. The noise produced was like that made;
by striking the metallic stones wo find in the desert, — not a
resonance to be heard far.

So that I doubt that there was any singing at sunrise by the
so-called Memnon (which was Amunoph), and 1 doubt that it
was a priestly device.

; , This Amunoph family, whose acquaintance wo have been
obliged to make, cut a wide swath in their day ; they had
eccentricities, and there are told a great many stories about
them, which might interest you if you could believe that the
Amunophs were as real as the Habsburgs and « he Stuarts and
the Grants.

■(■Amunoph I. (or Amen-hotep) was the successor of Amosis
(or Ahmes) who expelled the Shepherds, and even pursued
them into Canaan and knocked their walled-towns about their
heads. Amunoph I, subdued the Shasu or Bedaween of the
desert between Egypt and Syria, as much as those hereditary
robbers were ever subdued. This was in the seventeenth cen-
tury B. c. This king also made a naval expedition up the Nile
into Ethiopia, and it is said tiiat he took captive there the
"chief of the mountaineers." Probably then he went into
Abyssinia, and did not discover the real source of the Nile.
"r'The fourth Amunoph went conquering in Asia, as his pre-
decessors had done, for nations did not stay con-^^uered in those
days. He was followed by his seven daughters in chariots of
war. These heroic girls fought, with their father, and may be
seen now, in pictures, gently driving their chariot- wheels over
the crushed Asiatics. When Amunoph IV. came hoitie and
turned his attention to religion, he made lively work with the
i^yptian pantheon. This had grown into vast proportions from
the tim© of Menes, and Amunoph did not attempt to improve
13 :iJiJijt}V;4'-i-__'>»' '

;<■ '

■ *: i

■ " (

194

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

it or reform it ; he simply 8et it aside, and '^stabliiihed a new
religion. He It was who abandoned Thebes and built Tel-el-
Amarna, and there set up the worship of a single god, A ten,
represented by the sun's disc. He shut up the old tem[)l6S,
effaced the images of the ancient gods, and persecuted merci-
lessly their worahippers throughout the empire.

He was prompted to all this by his mother, for he himself
was little better than an imbecile. It was from his mother that
he took his foreign religion as he did his foreign blood, for there
was nothing of the Egyptian type in his face. His mother,
Queen Taia, wife of Amunoph III., had light hair, blue eyes
md rosy cheeks, the characteristics of northern women. She
was not of royal family, and not Egyptian ; but the child of a
foreign family then living in the Delta, and probably the king
married her for her beauty anu cleverness.

M. Lenormant thinks she was a Hebrew. That jMJOp'e were
then very numerous in the Delta, where they lived unmolested,
keeping their own religion, a very much corrupted and material-
ized monotheism. Queen Taia has the complexion and features
of the Hebrews — I don't mean of the Jews who are now dis-
persed over the continents. Lenormant credits the Hebrews,
through the Queen Taia, with the overthrow of the Pharaonic
religion and the establishment of the monotheism of Amunoph
IV. — a worship that had many external likenesses to the
Hebrew forms. At Tel-el-Amarna we see, among the utensils
of the worship of A ten, the Israelitish ** Table of Shew-bread."
It is iilso noticed that the persecution of the Hebrews coincides
with the termination of the religious revolution introduced by
the son of Taia.

Whenever a pretty woman of talent comes into history she
makes mischief. The episode of queen Taia is however a great
relief to the granite-faced monotony of the conservative Pharaohs.
Women rulers and regents always make the world li /ely for the
time being — and it took in this case two or three generations to
repair the damages. Smashing things and repairing damages
— that is history.

History starts up from every foot of this Theban plain, piled
four or five deep with civilizations. These temples are engulfed
in rubbish ; what the Persians and the earthquake spared,

niSTORV IN STONE.

f95

d a new
t Tel-cl-
1, A ten,
temples,
i merci-

himself
her that
for there

mother,
lue eyes
sn. She
lild of a
the king

[)'e were
lolested,
naterial-
features
now dis-
[ebrews,
baraonic
munoph
I to the
utensils
'^-bread."
!oincides
iuced by

tory she
a great
iiaraohs.
y for the
itions to
lamages

n, piled
ngulfed
spared,

Copts and Arabs for centuries have overlaid with their crumbl'
ling habitations. It requires a large draft upon the imagination
to reinstate the edifices that once covered this vast waste ; but
we are impressed with the size of the city, when we see the long
distances that the remaining temples are apart, and the evidence,
in broken columns, statues, and great hewn blocks of stone
shouldering out of the sand, of others perhaps as large. ' " '

'I Oil

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'1 «si| ill r.t.ommutt vl'y/ XI'. df

.44

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IS;

SB'

CIIAPTEK XVII.

KARNAK.

liHE weather is almost unsettled. There was actually
a dash of rain against the cabin window last night —
over before you could prepare an affidavit to the fact
— and to-day is cold, more or less cloudy with a drop, only a
drop, of rain occasionally. Besides, the wind is in the south-
west and the sand flies. We cannot sail, and decide to visit
Karnak, in spite of the entreaty of the hand-book to leave this,
as the crown of all sight-seeing, until we have climbed up to its
greatness over all the lesser ruins.

Perhaps this is wise ; but I tJiink I should advise a friend to
go at once to Karnak and outiageously astonish himself,
while his mind is fresh, and before he becomes at all sated
with ruins or familiar with other vast and exceedingly impressive
edifices. They are certain to dull a little his impression of
Karnak even.
;1j "Mado.m — " it is Abd el-Atti who comes in, rubbing his
hands — " your carriage stops the way."

" Carriage r '

" Yes, ma'am, I just make him."

The carriage was an arm-chair slung between two pushing-
poles ; between each end of them was harnessed a surly, dimin-
utive donkey who seemed to feel his degradation. Each donkey
required a dri\er ; Ahmed, with his sleeves rolled up and armed
with a big club, walked beside, to steady the swaying chair,
and to beat the boys when their donkeys took a fancy to lie
dowii ; and a cloud of interested Arabs hovered about it, running
with it, adding to the noise, dust, and picturesqueness of our
[eayalcade.

On the outskirts of the mud-oabins we pass through Sa*)

KARKAK.

197

weekly market, a motley assemblage of counffy-folks and
produce, ';amels, donkeys, and sheep. It is close by the Ghawazee
quarter, where is a colony of a hundred or more of these dancing-
girls. They are always conspicuous among Egyptian women
by their greater comeliness and gay apparel. They wear red
and yellow gowns, many tinkling ornaments of silver and gold,
and their eyes are heavily darkened with kohl. I don't know
what it is in this kohl, that giv^es women such a wicked and
v»angerous aspect. They come out to ask for backsheesh in a
brazen but probably intended to be a seductive manner ; they
are bold, but some of them rather well-looking. They claim to
be an unmixed race of ancient lineage ; but I suspect their blood
is no purer than their morals. There is not much in Egypt that
is not hopelessly mixed.

Of the mile-and-a-half avenue of sphinxes that once connected
Ijuxor with Karnak, we see no trace until we are near the
latter. The country is open and beautiful with green wheat,
palms, and sycamores. Great Karnak does not show itself
until we are close upon it ; its vast extent is hidden by the
r^.'mins of the wall of circuit, by the exterior temples and
pylons. It is not until we have passed beyond the great — but
called small — temple of Rameses III., at the north entrance,
and climbed the pyramidal tower to the west of the Great Hall,
that we begin to comprehend the magnitude of these ruins, and
that only days of wandering over them and of study would give
us their gigantic plan.

Karnak is not a temple, but a city rather ; a city of temples,
palaces, obelisks, colossal statue^. It is, like a city, a growth
of many centuries. It is not a conception or the execution of
a purpose ; it is the not always narmonious accretion of time
and wealth and vanity. Of the slowness of its growth some
idea may be gained from the fact that the hieroglyphics on one
face of one of its obelisks were cut two hundred and fifty yeara
after those on the opposite face. So long ago wer'^ both chiseled,
however, they are alike venerable to us. I shouitln't lose my
temper with a man who differed with me only a thousand yeara
about the date of any eveiit in Egypt.

They were working at this mass of edifices, sacred or profane,
all the way from Osirtasen I. down to Alexander II. ; that is
from about 3064 b. c. according to Mariette (Bunseii, 2781,

[fll

: .

?'* '

k ;

l) '

I 4

V \ i

I?: 1 ii

i ii

ti'. i

198

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

Wilkinson, 2080, — it doesn't matter) to only a short time before
our era. There was a modest beginning in the plain but chaste
temple of Osirtasen ; but each king sought to outdo his prede-
cessor until Sethi I. forever distanced riA-alry in building the
Great Hall. And after him it is useless for anyone else to
attempt greatness by piling up stones. The length of the
temples, pylons, and obelisks, en suite from west to east, is 1180
feet ; but there are other outlying and gigantic ruins ; I suppose
it is fully a mile and a half round the wall of circuit.
.. -There is nothing in the world of architecture like the Great
Hal^- ; nothing so massive, so surprising, and, for me, at least,
so crushingly oppressive. What monstrous columns ! And
how thickly they are crowded together ! Their array is always
compared to a forest. The comparison is apt in some respects ;
but how free, uplifting is a forest, how it expands into the blue
air, and lifts the soul with it. A piece of architecture is to be
judged, I suppose, by the effect it produces. It is not simply
that this hall i» pagan in its impression ; it misses the highest
architectural eftect by reason of its unrelieved heaviness. It is
wonderful ; it was a prodigious achievement to build so many
big columns.

> The setting of enormous columns so close together that you
pan only see a few of th^am at one point of view is the architec-
ture of the Great Hall. Upon these, big stones are put for a
roof. There is no reason why this might not have been repeated
over an acre of ground. • Neither from within nor from without
can 3 ou see the extent of the hall.* The best view of it is
down the centre aisle, formed by the largest columns ; and as
these have height as well as bulk, and the sky is now seen above
them, the effect is of the highest majesty. This hall was dimly
lighted by windows in the clere story, the frames of which ex-
hibit a freedom of device and grace of carving worthy of a
Gothic cathedral. These columns, all richly sculptured, are

^ The Gr^at Hall measures pne hundred and seventy feet by three
hundred nd twenty-nine ; in this space stand one hundred and thirty-
fout cob ms ; twelve 6f these, forming the central avenue of one hun-
dred ai seventy feet, are sixty-two feet high, without plinth knd
abacus, .aid eleven feet six inch^ in diameter ; the other one hundred
and twenty-two columns are forty-tM'o feet five inches in height and
about nine feet in diftimster, The great colunuMi^itiuid only fiftefn or
aixteen feet apartr^-^^' iTrrrr.L .,., ,.rt.j

KARNAK.

199

laid up in blocks of stone of half the diameter, the joints broken.
If the Egyptians had dared to use the arch, the principle of
which they knew, in this building, so that the columns could
have stoocl wide apart and still upheld the roof, the sight of the
interior would have been almost too much for the human mind.
The spectator would have been exalted, not crushed by it.

Not far off is the obelisk which Amunoo-het erected to the
memory of her father. I am not sure but it will stand long
after The Hall of Sethi is a mass of ruins ; for already is the
water sapping the foundations of the l^.tter, some of the columns
lean like reeling drunken men, and one day, with crash after
crash, these giants will totter, and the blocks of stone of which
they are built will make another of those shapeless heaps to
which sooner or later our solidest works come. The red gran-
ite shaft of the faithful daughter lifts itself ninety-two feet into
the air, and is the most beautiful as it is the largest obelisk
ever raised.

^''■' The sanctuary of red granite was once very rich and beauti-
ful ; the high polish of its walls and the remains of its exqui-
site carving, no less than the colors that still remain, attest
that. The sanctuary is a heap of ruins, thanks to that ancient
Shaker, Cambyses, but ihe sculptures in one of the chambers
are the most beautiful we have seen ; the colore, red, blue, and
green are still brilliant, the ceiling is spangled with stars on a
blue firmament. Considering the hardness of this beautiful
syenite and the difficulty of working it, I think this is the most
admirable piece of work in Thebes.

It may be said of some of the sculptures here, especially of
1ihe very spirited designs and intelligent execution of those of
the Great Hall, that they ai'e superior to those on the other
side of the river. And yet there is endless theological reitera-
tion here ; there are dreary miles of the same gods in the same
attitudes; and you cannot call all of them respectable gods.
The longer the religion endured the more conventional and
repetitious its representations became. The sculptors came to
have a traditional habit of doing certain scenes and groups in a
certain way ; and the want of life and faith in them becomes
very evident in the sculptures of the Ptolemaic period.

In this vast area you may spend days and not exhaust the
objects worth examination. On one of our last visits we found

200

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

i ■

!;^^

if-'

1 ':

B^sk.

^^ft

ih:

near the sacred lake veiy striking colossal statues which we
had never seen before.

When this city of temples and palaces, the favorite royal
residence, was entire and connected with Luxor by the avenue
of sphinxes, and the great edifices and statues on the west side
of the river were standing, this broad basin of the Nile, enclos-
ed by the circle of rose-colored limestone mountains, which
were tliemselves perforated with vast tombs, must have been
what its splendid fame reports, when it could send to war
twenty thousand chariots. But, I wonder, whether the city,
aside from its conspicuous temples and attached palaces, was
one of mud-hovels, like those of most peoples of antiquity, and
of the modem Egyptians. )il k ^rm>i :\

no Jilj^ia Jfvjii :J*i.'iC'rJi,!j »..Aji Ainyxb

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il'tidw (liu hiiii^J'-lDin Si nnw 'lol' -.':. ■■•a .
t>f»b8uT. .inx'ihl'io Vuilodi ?'i «ii{T ,lm*Ai\ ,

Totpfr

■'{ ^no;

WOfI bfiAl tiitjrl ji |i«l8!>jir

l>ilK>'--

'. y-fStW /^sii!

•;+P. fui;

CHAPTER XVIII.

ASCENDING, THE BIVER.

ftE resume our voyage on the sixth of January, but we
leave a hostage at Luxor as we did at Asioot. This is
a sailor who became drunk and tui-bulent last night on
hasheesh, and was sent to the governor.

We found him this morning with a heavy chain round his
neck and tied to a stake in one corner of the court-yard of the
house where the governor has his office. I think he might have
pulled up the stake and run away ; but I believe it is not con-
sidered right here for a prisoner to escape. The common peo-
ple are so subdued that they wilt, when authority puts its heavy
hand on them. Near the sailor was a mud-kennel into which
he could crawl if he liked. This is the jail of Luxor. Justice
is summary here. This sailor is confined without judge or jury,
and will be kept t-ill he refunds his advance wages, since he
was discharged f^**^ ^^® ^**' ^ * dangerous man.

The sailors dread the lock-up, for they may be forced into
the army as the only way out of it ; they would much prefer
the stick. They are used to the stick ; four thousand years of
Egyptians have been accustomed to the stick. A beating they
do not mind much, or at least are not humiliated by it as another
race would be. But neither the prospect of the jail nor the
atick will wean them from hasheesh, which is the cunse of
Egypt.

We spread our sails to a light breeze and depart in company
with two other dahabeehs, one English (the Fhilce) and one
American (the Dongola). Africa and weeks of leisure and
sunny skies are before us. We loiter along in company, in
friendly company one may say, now passing a boat and now
falling behind, like three ducks coquetting in a swift current.

202

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

^ I

' I * I

-;t

We are none of us in a hurry, we are indifferent to progress,
our minds are calm, and our worst passions not excited. "We do
not appear to be going rapidly, I sometimes doubt if we are
going forward at all, but it gradually becomes apparent that we
are in the midst of a i*ace !

Everything in this world is relative. I can imagine a fear-
fully exciting match of mud-turtles on a straight track. Think
of the agony, prolonged, that the owner of the slow turtle would
suffer ! We are evidently in for it ; and a race like this, that
lasts all day, will tire out the hardiest sjwrtsman.

The Jiip Van Winkle is the largest boat and happens to have
the lead ; but the Philce, a very graceful, gay boat, is crawling
up to us ; the Dongola aiso seems to feel a breeze that we have
not. We want a strong wind — the Rip Van Winkle does not
wake up in a mild air. As we desire, it freshens a little, the
big sail swells, and the ripples are louder at the bow. Unfor-
tunately there is breeze enough for three, and the other vessels
shake themselves out like ducks about to fly. It is a pretty
sight just now : the spread of three great bird-wing sails, the
long gayly-painted cabins and decks, the sweeping yards and the
national colors and variegated streamers flying !

They are gaining on us ; the Philce gets inside, and taking
our wind, for a moment, creeps ahead, and attempts to sheer
across our bow to force us into the swifter current ; the Dongola
sails in at the same time, and a jam and collision appear inevi-
table. A storm of language bursts out of each boat ; men run
to stern and bow, to ward ofl" intruders or to disengage an
entangled spar ; all the crew, sailors, reises, and dragomans are
in the most active vociferation. But the Philce sails out of the
coil, the Dowjola draws ahead at the risk of going into the
bank, and our crew seize the punt-poles and have active work
to prevent going fast on a sand-bar to leeward.
^v But the prosperity of the wicked is short. The wind falls
flat. Instantly our men are tumbling into the wat«r and car-
rying the rope ashore to track. The lines are all out, and the
men are attempting to haul us round a deep bend. The steers-
men keep the head of the vessels ofl^ shore, and the strain on
the trackers is tremendous. The cables flop along the bank
and scrape over the shadoofs, raking down a stake now and
then, and bring out from their holes the half-naked, protesting

1 i ^ !(

pi ' ,
L? «

p; •'

ASCENDING THE RIVER.

203

proprietors, who g«t angry and gesticulate, — as if they had any-
thing to do with our race !

The men cannot hold the cable any longer ; one by one they
are forced to let go, at the risk of being drawn down the crum-
bling bank, aad the cable splashes into the water. The sailors
run ahead and come down upon a sand-spit ; there are puffs of
wind in our sail, and we appear to have made a point, when the
men wade on board and haul in the rope. The Dongola is close
upon us; the rhihv. has lost by keeping too far out in the cur-
rent. Oh, for a wind! -; iJ
. Instead of a wind, thei*e is a bland smile in the quiet sky.
Why, O children, do you hasten 1 Have not Nile sailors been
doing this for four thousand years ] The boats begin to yaw
about. T>oles are got out. We are all in danger of going
aground ; we are all striving to get the inside track at yonder
point; we are in danger of collision; we are most of all in
danger of being left behind. The crews are crazy with excite-
ment ; as they hurriedly walk the deck, rapidly shil'ting their
poles in the shallow water, calling upon Yalesah in quicker and
quicker respirations, "Ha Yalesah," "Ha Yalesah," as they
run to change the sail at the least indication of a stray breeze,
as they see fi,rst one dahabech and then the other crawling
ahead, the contest assumes a, gerioAJa aspect, and their cries are
stronger and more barbaria. mI; f'tfti ^f< 'i-

The X*hil(B gets inside again and takes the bank. We are all
tracking, when we come to the point, beyond which is a deep
bay. If we had wind we should sail straight across; the distance
round the bay is much greater — but then we can track along
the bank ; there is deep water close under the bank and there
is deep water in mid-river. The PhUoi stands away into the
river, barely holding its own in the light zephyr. The Dcngola
tries to follow the Fhilce, but swings round, and her crew take
to .the poles. Our plan appears to be more brilliant. Our men
t^e the cable out \ipon a sand-bank in the stream, and attempt
to tow us along the centre channel. All goes well. We gain
on the PhU<e and pass it» We see the Dongola behind, strug-
gling in the shallows. But the sand-bank is a failure. The
xi\exi begin to go from it into deeper water ; it is up to their
knees, it reaches oiu- '^drawers," which we bought for the creMf ;
it comes to the waist; their shoulders are going under. It is

?04

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

i !

K-S ^

Jai

useless : the cable is let go, and the men nish back to the sand-
bar. There they are. Our cable is trailing down stream ; we
have lost our crew, and the wind is just coming up. While we
are sending the sandal to rescue our mariners, the Pkilce sails
away, and the Dongola shows her stern.

The travellers on the three boats, during all this contest, are
sitting on the warm, sunny decks, with a pretence of books,
opera-glasses in hand, apparently regarding the scene with in-
difference, but no doubt, underneath this mask, longing to "lick "
the other boats.

After all, we come to Erment (which is eight miles from
Luxor) not far apart. The race is not to the swift. There is
no swift on the Nile. But I do not know how there could be
a iiiore exciting race of eight miles a day !

At Erment is a large sugar factory belonging to the Khedive;
and a governor lives here in a big house and harem. The
house has an extensive garden laid out by old Mohammed Ali,
and a plantation of oranges, Yusef Effendis, apples, apricots,
peaches, lemons, pomegranates, and limes. The plantation shows
that fruit will grow on the Upper Nile, if one will take the
trouble to set out and water the trees. But we see none. The
high Nile here last September so completely washed out the
garden that we can get neither flowers nor vegetables. And
some people like the rapidly-grown watery vegetables that grow
along the Nile.

Our dragoman wanted. some of the good, unrefined loaf-sugar
from the factory here, and I went with him to see how business
is transacted. We had difficulty in finding any office or place
of sale about the establishment.

But a good-natured dwarf, who seemed to spring out of the
ground on our landing, led us through courts and amid dilapi-
dated warehouses to a gate, in which sat an Arab in mixed
costume. Within the gate hung a pair of steelyards, and on
one side was a bench. The gate, the man, the steelyards ^nd
the bench constituted an office. Beyond was an avenue, hay-
ing low enclosures on each side, that with broken pillars aiEid
walls of brick looked very much like Pompeii ; in a shallow bin
was a great heap of barley, thrashed, and sftfet ^jj, dry iu t^e
open air.

The iE^djtfferent man in the gate sent j^^a^^low boy,, viboj. in

ASCENDING THE RIVER.

205

his own time, came, bearing a key, a stick an inch square and
a foot long, with four short iron spikes stuck in one side near
the end. He led us up a dirty brick stairway outsidi; a build-
ing, and inserting the key in a wooden lock to match (both lock
and key are unchanged since the Pharaohs) let us into a long,
low room, like an old sail loft, full of dust, packages of sugar-
paper and old account books. When the shutters were opened
we found at one end a few papers of sugar, which we bought,
and our own sailor carrie-i down to the steelyards. The indif-
ferent man condesct ded to weigh the sugar, and took the pay,
but he lazily handed the money to the boy, who sauntered off
with it. Naturally, you wouldn't trust that boy ; but there
was an indescribable sense of the worthlessness of time and of
money and of all trade, about this transaction, that precluded
the possibility of the smartness of theft.

The next day the race is resumed, with little wind and a good
deal of tracking ; we pass the Dongola and are neck-and-neck
with the Philce till afternoon, when we bid her good-bye ; and
yet not with ur. mixed pleasure.

It is a pleasure to pass a boat and leave her toiling after ;
but the pleasure only lasts while she is in sight. If I had my
way, we should constantly overhaul boats and pass them, and
so go up the stream in continual triumph. It is only the cold
consciousness of duty performed that sustains us, when we have
no spectators of our progress.

^^c?*We go on serenely. Hailing a crossing ferry-boat, loaded
with squatting, turbaned tatterdemalion Arabs, the dragoman
cries " tialaam ^aleykoom."

The reply is, ^^ Salaam ; peace be with you ; may God meet
you in the way; may God receive you to himself." The Old
. Testament style.

^^■^While we were loitering along by Mutaiieh — where there is
a sugar-factory, and an irrigating steam pump — trying to count
the string of camels, hundreds of them moving along the bank
against the sunset — camels that bring the cane to be ground —
and our crew were eating supper, I am sorry to say that the
PhilcB poled ahead of us, and went on to Esneh. But some-
thing happened at Esneh. *^*"''* 'i«> ^'^^^^l

It was dark when we arrived at that prosperous town, and,
' of course, Abd-el-Atti, who would like to have us go blazing

I ,

206

MUMMIES AND MOST li:M&.

through Egypt like Cambyses, sent up a rocket. Its fiery ser-
pent tore the black night above us, exploded in a hundred
colored stars, and then dropped its stick into the water. Splen-
did rockets ! The only decent rockets to bo had in Egypt are
those made by the government ; and Abd-el-Atti was the only
dragoman who had been thoughtful enough to make interest
with the authorities and procure government rockets. Hfence
our proud position on the river. We had no fireman, and the
Khedive did not pay our exjjenses, but the Viceroy himself
couldn't out-rocket us. ^' . .* ■ ; ' ; ■ ' -

As soon as we had come tof-iilrbt^ ftAd tied tip, att'bperatioft^
taking some time in the darkness, we had a visit from the gov-
ernor, a friend of our dragoman ; but this visit was urgent and
scarcely friendly. An attempt had been made to set the towh
on fire! A rocket from an arriving boat had been thrown
into the town, set fire to the straw on top of one of the houses
and — - ' a

» Did it spread?" ^*^ ^'^ - '''^

" No, but it might. Allah be praised, it was put out. But
the town might have been burned down. What a way is this,
to go along the Nile firing the towns at night V*

*' 'Twasn't our rocket. Ours exploded in the air and fell
into the river. Did the other boat, did the Philce, send up ft
rocket when she arrived r

" Yes. There was another rocket."

"Dat's it, dat's it," says Abd-el-Atti. "Why you no go oii
board the Philce and not come here? " And then he added to
us, as if struck by a new idea, "Where the Philce get dat
rocket 1 I think he have no rocket before. Not send any np
Christmas in Asioot, not send any up in Luxor. I think thesel
very strange. Not so?"

"What kind of rocket was it, that burnt the town?" we ask
the governor.

"I have it." The governor ran to the cabin door and calMdl
A servant brought in the exploded missile. It was a large-
sized rocket, like our own; twice as large as the I'ockets that
are not made by the government, and wbich travellers usually
carry.

" Seems like our stick," cries Abd-el-Atti, gditihg excited.
He examined the sheath with gi*eat care. We all ^theted

ASCENDING THE RIVER.

207

round the cabin lamp to look at the fatal barrel, ft had A
mark on it, something in Arabic. Abd-el-Atti turned it fiide-
ways and upside down, in an effort to get at the meaning of
the writing.

"That is government; make 'em by the government; no
doubt," ho says, standing oflf and becoming solemn. " Dat
rocket been stole. Looks like our rocket."

Abd-el-Atti flies out, and there is a commotion outside.
" Who has been stealing rockets and sell *em to that drago-
man V* Boxes are opened. Rockets are brought in and com-
pared. The exploded one has the same mark as ours, it is the
same size.

A new anxiety dawns upon Abd-el-Atti. What if the Philoi
has government rockets ? Our distinction is then gone. No.
It can't be. "I know what every dragoman do in Cairo. He
can't get dese rocket. Nobody get 'em dis year *cept us."
Alxl-el-Atti is for probing the affair to the bottom. Perhaps
the hasheesh eating sailor we discharged at Luxor stole some
of our rockets and sold them, and thus they came into possession
of the dragoman of the Philoe,

The young governor, however, has had enough of iv. He
begins to see a great deal of vexation to himself, and a row
with an English and an American dahabeoh and with natives
besides. Let it drop, he says. The governor sits on the divan
smoking a cigar. He is accompanied by a Greek friend, a
merchant of the place. When the governor's cigar goes out,
in his distraction, the Greek takes it, and re-lights it, puffing
it till it is well enflamed, and then handing it again to the
governor. This is a custom of the East. The servant often
"starts" the cigarette for his master. •

" Oh, let it go," says the governor, appealing to us : " It is
finish now. It was no damage done it."

"But it might," cries Abd-el-Atti, " it might burn the town,"
taking now the role which the governor had dropped.

"But you are not to blame. It is not you have done it."

"Then why you come to me, why you come to us wid de
rocket? Why you"no go to the PhUce ? Yes. You know that
we, nobody else on the river got government rockets. This
government rocket — look the mark," seizing the exploded one
and a new one, and bringing the ends of both so near the lamp t

208

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

P 1

15 r ■'

:'? I

that wo all foar an explosion. "There is something nnder-
hands here."

"'But it's all right now."

"How it's all right] Story go back to Cairo; Hip Van
Winkle been gone sot tire to Ksnoh. Whoso rock«!ts ? (lovern-
ment rockets. Nobody Imve government rockets 'cept Abd-el-
Attl"

A terrific confab goes on in the cabin for nearly an hour l)o-
tweon the dragoman, the governor, and the (ireek ; a lively
entertainment and exhibition of character which wo have no
desire to curtail. The governor is a young, bright, presentable
follow, in Frank dress, who for liveliness of talk and gestui-e
would pass for an Italian.

When the governor has departed, our .e'ia comes in and
presents us a high-toned "certificate" from the gentleman on
board the Philoi : — he has learned from our reis, steersman, and
some sailora (who are in a panic) that they are all to bo hauled
before the gov ornor and punished on a charge of stealing rockets
and selling them to his dragoman. Ho certifies that he bought
his own rockets in the Mooskce; that his dragoman was with
him when Le bought them; and that our men are innocent.
The certificate further certifies that our conduct toward our
crew is unjustifiable and an unheard of cruelty!

Here was a castis belli! Foreign powers had intervened.
The right of search and seizure was again asserted ; tlie war of
1812 was about to 6e renewed. Our cruelty unheard of] Wo
should think so. All the rest of it was unheard of also. We
hadn't the slightest intention of punishing anybody or hauling
anybody before the governor. When Abd-el-Atti hears the
certificate, he shakes his head : —

"Buy 'em like this in the Mooskee ? Not bo. Not find
government rockets in any shop in the Mooskee. Something
underhands by that dragoman!"

Not wishing to light the flames of war in Africa, we imme-
diately took servants and lanterns and called on the English
Man-of-War. The Man-of-War had gone to bed. It was nine
o'clock.

" What for he send a certificate and go to bed] " Abd-el-Atti
wants to know. " I not like the looks of it." He began to be
suspicious of all the world.

ASCENDING THE RIVER.

209

In the morning tbo gentleman returned our Call. Ho did not
know or care whose rocket sot fire to the town. Couldn't hurt
these towns much to burn them ; small loss if all were burned.
The governor had called on him to say that no damage was
done. Our dragoman had, however, no right to accuse his of
buying stolen rockets. His -wnro bought in Cairo, etc., etc.
An<l the matter dropped amicably and without bloodshed, litt
Abd-el-Atti's suspicions widened as he thought it over : — ,

" What for do Governor come to me ? What for he not go to
dat boat what fire do rocket ? What for do Governor come been
call on me wid a rocket ] The, Gover^io^^^ver coi|[>e,beei^jCAU
on me wid a rocket before ! "

It is customary for all boats which are going above the first
cataract to stop at Esneh twenty-four hours to bake bread for
the crew ; frequently they are detained longer, for the wheat
has to be bought, ground in one of the little ox-power mills,
mixed and baked ; and the crew hire a mill and oven for the
time being, and perform the labor. We had sent sailors ahead
to bake the bread, and it was ready in the morning ; but we
stayed over, according to immeraoriaJ custom. The sailors are
entitled to a holiday, and they like to take it where there are
plenty of coffee-houses and a large colony of Ghawazee girls.

Esneh is not a bad specimen of an Egyptian town. There
is a temple here, of which only the magnificent portico has been
excavated; the remainder lies under tne town. We descend
some thirty feet to get to the floor of the portico, — to such a
depth has it been covered. And it is a modern temple, after all ,
of the period of the Roman occupation. We find here the
cartouches of the Ciesars. The columns are elegant and covered
with very good sculpture ; each of the twenty-five has a different
capital, and some are developed into a hint of the Corinthian
and the composite. The rigid constraints of th^ lEgyjptian art
are beginning to give way. ^^;; 7^1 'l[^ „,.^,^j^^i^,f^

The work in the period of the Bomans differs much from the
ancient ; it is less simple, more ornamented and debased. The
hieroglyphics are not so carefully and nicely out. The figures
are not so free in drawing, and not so good as the old,, except
that they show more anatomical knowledge, and begin to exhibit
a little thought of perspective. The later ai*tists attempt to
work out more details in the figure, to show muscles and vari-
U

2IO

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

\ If

'i I

ous members in more particularity. Some of the foims and
faces have much beauty, but most of them dechire a decline of
art, or perhaps an attempt to reconcile the old style with new
knowledge, and consequent failure.

We called on the governor. He was absent at the mosque,
but his servant gave us cofiee. The Oriental magnificence of
the gubernatorial residence would impress the most faithless
traveller. The entrant ^ ^^as through a yard that would be a
fair hen-yard (for common fowl) at home, and the small apart-
ment into which we were shown might serve for a stable ; but
it Jiad a divan, some carpets and chairs, and three small win-
dows. Its roof was flat, made of rough jsplit palm-trees, covered
with palm-leaves. The governoi's lady lives somewhere in the
rear of this apartment of the ruler, in a low mud-house, of
which we saw the outside onlv.

Passing near the government house, we stopped in to see the
new levy of soldiei*s, which amounts to come four hundred from
this province. Men are taken between the ages of eighteen and
twenty-four, and although less than three per cent, of those
liable are seized, the draft makes a tremendous excitement all
along the river. In some places the bazaars are closed and
there is a general panic as if pestilence had broken out.

Outside the government house, and by the river bank, are
women, squatting in the sand, black figures of woe and dirt,
bewailing their relations taken away. In one mud-hovel there
is so much howling and vocal grief that we think at first a
funeral is in progress. We are permitted to look into the
lock-up where the recruits are detained waiting transportation
down the river. A hundred or two fellaheen, of the average as
to nakedness and squalor of raiment, are crowded into a long
room with a dirt floor, and among them are many with heavy
chains on their ankles. These latter are murderers and thieves,
await'ng trial or further punishment. It is in fact the jail, and
the soldiers are forced into this companionship until their
departure. One would say this is a bad nursery for patrio^-^.

The court of justice is in the anteroom of this prison ; and the
two ought to be near together. The kadi, or judge, sits cross-
legged on the ground, and others squat around him, among
them a scribe. When we enter, we are given seats on a mat
near the judge, and offered coffee and pipes. This is something

ASCENDING THE RlVER.

2ti

sits cross-

like a coui-t of justice, sociable and friendly. It is impossible
to tell who is prisoner, who are witnesses, and who are specta^
tors. All are talking together, the prisoner (who is pointed
out) louder than cny other, the sjiectators all joining in with
the witnesses. The prisoner is allowed to " talk back," which
must be a satisfaction to him. When the hubbub subsides, the
jiidge pronounces sentence ; and probably he does as well as an
ordinary jury.

The remainder of this town is not sightlv. In fact I do not
suppose that six thousand people could live in one dirtier,
dustier, of more wretched houses ; rows of unclean, shriveled
women, with unclean babies, their eyes plastered with flies,
sitting along the lanes called streets ; plenty of men and boys
in no better case as to cloi-hing ; but the men are physically
superior to the women. In fact we see no comely women
except the Ghawazees. Upon the provisions, the grain, the
sweet-cakes exposed for sale on the ground, flies settle so that
all look black.

Not more palaces and sugar-mills, O ! Khedive, will save this
Egypt, but some plan that will lift these women out of dirt and
ignorance ! •

Our next run is to Assouan. I^et us sketch it rapidly, and
indicate by a touch the panorama it unrolled for us.

We are under way at daylight, leaving our two companions
of the race asleep. We go on with a good wind, and by lovely
sloping banks of green ; banks that have occasionally a New
England-river aspect ; but palm-trees are behind them, and
beyond are uneven mountain ranges, the crumbling limestone
of which is so rosy in the sun. The wind freshens, and we
spin along five miles an hour. The other boats have started,
but thev have a stern chase, and we lose them round a bend.

The atmosphere is delicious, a little under a summer heat, so
that it is pleasant to sit in the sun ; we seem to fly, with our
great wings of sails, by the lovely shores. An idle man could
desire nothing more. The crew are cutting up the bread baked
yesterday and spreading it on the deck to dry. They prefer
this to bread made of bolted wheat; and it would be very
good, if it were not heavy and sour, and dirty to look at, and
somewhat gritty to the teeth.
s In the afternoon we pass the new, the Roman, and tho old

¥\

■$

212

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

til^

W i

m i

town of El-Kab, back of which are the famous grottoes of
Eilethyas witli their pictures of domestic and agricultural life.
"We go on famously, leaving Edfoo behind, to the tune of five
miles an hour ; and, later, we can distinguish the top of the
sail of the Philce at least ten miles behind. Before dark we
are abreast of the sandstone quarries of Silsilis, the most
wonderful in the world, and the river is swift, narrower, and
may be rocky. We have accomplished fifty-seven miles since
morning, and v/ishing to make a day's run that shall astonish
Egypt, we keep on in the dark. The wind inc: ases, and in
the mi 1st of our career we go aground. We tug and push and
splash, however, get off the sand, and scud along again. In a
few moments something happens. There is a thump and a
lurch, and bedlam breaks loose on deck.

We have gone hard on the sand. The wind ^s blowing almost
a gale, and in the shadow of these hills the night is black. Our
calm steersman lets the boat swing right about, facing down-
stream, the sail jibes, and we are in great peril cf upsetting, or
carrying away yard, mast and all. The hubbub is something
indescribable. The sailors are ordered aloft to take in the sail.
They fear to do it. To venture out upon that long slender
yard, which is foul and threatens to snap every moment, the
wind whipping the loose sail, is no easy or safe task. The
yelling that ensues would astonish the regular service. Reis
and sailors are all screaming together, and above all can be
held the storming of tlje dragoman, who is most alive to the
danger, his voice broken with excitement aiiJ passion. The
crew are crouching about the mast, in terror, calling upon
Mohammed. The reis is muttering to the Prophet, in the
midst of his entreaty. Abd-el-Atti is rapidly telling his beads,
while he raves. At last Ahmed springs up the rigging, and
the others, induced by shame and the butt-end of a hanu-spike,
follow him, and are driven out along the shaking yard. Amid
intense anxiety and with extreme difficulty, the sad is furled
and we lie there, aground, with an anchor out, the wind blow-
ing hard and the waves pounding us, as if we were making
head against a gale at sea. A dark and wildish night it is,
and a lonesome place, the rocky shore? dimly seen ; but there
is starlight. We should prefer to be tied to the bani, sheltered
from the wind rather than lie swinging and pounding here.

ASCENDING THE RIVER.

213

>ttoes of
Lira! life.
e of five
p of the
lark we
be most
ver, and
les since
astonish
, and in
iish and
L. In a
) and a

g alniost
f. Our
g down-
bting, or
me thing
the sail,
slender
int, the
. The
Reis
can be
to the
. The
g upon
in the
beads,
ig, aixd
-spike,
Amid
3 furled
d blow-
making
it it is,
t there
leltered
g here.

However, it shows us the Nile in a new aspect. And another
good comes out of the adventure. Ahmed, who saved tlie boat,
gets a new suit of clothes. Nobody in Egypt needed one more.
A suit of clothes is a blue cotton gown.

The following morning (Sunday) is cold, but we are off early
as if nothing had happened, and run rapidly against the current
— or the current against us, which produces the impression of
going fast. The river is narrower, the mountains come closer
to the shores, and there is, on either side, only a scant strip of
vegetation. Egypt, along here, is really only three or four rods
wide. The desert sands drift down to the very shores, and the
desert hills, brcken, jagged, are savage »/alls of enclosure.

T7ie Nile no doubt once rose annually and covered these now
bleached wastes, end made them fruitful. Eut that was long
ago. At Silsilis, below here, where the great quarries are,
there was once a rocky barrier, probably a fall, which set the
Nile back, raising its level from here to Assouan. In some
convulsion this was carried away. When? There is some
evidence on this point at hand. By ten o'clock we have rounded
a long bend, and come to the temples of Kom Ombos, their
great columns conspicuous on a hill close to the river. They
are rather fine structures, for the Ptolemies. One of them
stands upon foundations of an ancient edifice built b3' Thothmea
I. (eighteenth dynasty) ; and these foundations restiipon alluvial
deposit. Consequently the lowering of the Nile above Silsilis,
probably by breaking through the rock-dam there, was before
the time of Thothmes I. The Nile has never risen to the
temple sHe since. These striking ruins are, however, destined
to be swept away ; opposite the bend where they stand a largo
sand-island is forming, and every hour the soil is washing from
under them. Upon this sand-island this morning are flocks of
birds, sunning themselves, and bevies of sand-grouse take wing
at our approach. A crccodile also lifts his shoulf!ers and
lunges into the water, when we get near enough to see his ugly
scales with the glass.

As we pass the desolate Kom Ombos, a solitary figure
" emerges from the ruins and comes down the slope o? the sand-
hill, with turban flowing, ragged cotton robe, and a long staS*;
he runs along the sandy shoio and then turns away into the
desert, like a fleeing Cain, probably with no idea that it is Sun-

214

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

)9 i

111 ^

fn'

day, and that the " first bell " is about to nng iii Christian
countries.

The morning air is a little too sharp for idle comfort, although
we can sit in the sun on deck and lead. This west wind coming
from the mountains of the desert brings always cold weather,
even in Nubia.

Above Kom Ombos we come to a little village in a palm-grove
— a scene out of the depths of Africa, — such as you have often
seen in pictures — which is the theatre of an extraordinary com-
motion. There is enacted before us in dumb-show something
like a pantomime in a play-house ; but this is even more remote
and enigmatical than that, and has in it all the elements of e-
picture of savagery. In the interior of Africa are they not all '
children, and do they not spend their time in petty quarreling
and fighting ?

On the beach below the village is moored a trading vessel,
loaded with ivory, cinnamon, and gum-arabic, and manned by
Nubians, black as coals. People are climbing into this boat
and jumping out of it, splashing in the water, in a state of great
excitement ; people are running along the shore, shouting and
gesticulating wildly, flourishing long staves ; parties are chasing
each other, and whacking their sticks together; and a black
fellow, in a black gown and white shoes, is chasing others with
an uplifted drawn sword. It looks like war or revolution, pic-
turesque war in the bright sun on the yellow sand, with all
attention to disposition of rt*iment and colour and striking
attitudes. There are hurryings to and fro, incessant clamours
of noise and shoutings and blows of cudgels ; some are running
away, and some are climbing into palm trees, but we notice
that no one is hit by cane or sword. Neither is anybody taken
into custod though there is a gi'eat show of arresting some-
body. It is a very animated encounter, and I am glad that we
do not understand it.

Sakiyas increase in number along the bank, taking the place
of the shadoof, and we are never out of hearing of their doleful
songs. Labour here is not hurried. I saw five men digging a
well in the bank — into which the sakiya buckets dip ; that is,
there were four, stripped, coal-black slaves from Soudan, sup.;r-r
intended by an Arab. One man was picking up the dirt with
a pick-axe hoe. Three others were scraping out the dirt with a

ASCENDING THE RIVER.

215

pic-

contrivauce that would mtjke a lazy man laugh ; — ouo fellow
held the long handle of a small scraper, fastened on like a shovel ;
to this upright scraper two ropec were attached, which the two
others pulled, indolently, thus gradually scraping the dirt out
of the hole a spoonful at a time. One man with a shovel would
have thrown it out four times as fast. But why should it be
thrown out in a hurry 'i Must we always intrude our haste
into this land of eternal leisure ]

By afternoon the wind falls, and we loiter along. The desert
apparently comes close to the river on each side. On one
bank are a hundred camels, attended by a few men and boys,
browsing on the coarse tufts of grass and the scraggy bushes ;
the hard surroundings suit the ungaiuly animals. It is such
pictures of life, differing in all respects from ours, that we come
to see. A little boat with a tattered sail is towed along cIolo
to the bank by half a dozen ragged Nubians, who sing a not
unmelodious refrrin as they walk and pull, — better at any rate
than the groan of the sakiyas.

There is everywhere a sort of Sabbath calm — a common thing
here, no doubt, and of great antiquity. It must be easy here
to keep not only Sunday but all the days of the week.

As we advance the scenery becomes more Nubian, the river
narrower and apparently smaller, when it shovdd seem larger.
This phenomenon of a river having more and more water as we
ascend is one that we cannot get accustomed to. The Nile,
having no affluents, loses, of coui-se, continually by evaporation,
by canals, and the constant drain on it for irrigation. No
wonder the Egyptians were moved by its mystery no less than
by its beneficence to a sort of worahip of it.

The rocks are changing their character; granice begins to
appear amid the limestone and sandstone. Along here, seven
or eight miles below Assouan, there is no vegetation in sight
from the boat, except strips of thrifty palm-trees, but there
must be soil beyond, for the sakiyas are always creaking. The
character of the population is changed also ; above Kom Ombos
it is mostly Nubian — who are to the fellaheen as granite is to
sandstone. The Nubian hills lift up their pyramidal forms in
the south, and we seem to be getting into real Africa.

CHAPTER XrX.

PASSING THE CATARACT OP THE NILE.

■ r^

^^ll^T LAST, twenty-four days from Cairo, the Nubian hills
^jM^ are in sight, lifting themselves up in the south, and we
7^W^ appear to be getting into the real Africa — Africa, which
still keeps its barbarous secret, and dribbles down this com-
mercial highway the Nile, as it has for thousands of years, its
gums and spices and drugs, its tusks and skins of wild animals,
its rude weapons and its cunning work in silver, its slave-boys
and slave-girls. These native boats that we meet, piled w^ith
strange and fragr.^nt merchandise, rowed by antic crews of
Nubians, whose ebony bodies shine in the sun as they walk
backward and forward at the long sweeps, chanting a weird,
barbarous refrain, — what tropical freights are these for the
imagination !

At sunset we are in a .lonesome place, the swift river flowing
between narrow rocky shores, the height beyond Assouan grey
in the distance, and vultures watching our passing boat from
the high crumbling sandstone ledges. The night falls sweet
and cool, the soft new moon is remote in the almost purple
depths, the thickly strewn stars blaze like jewels, and we work
slowly on at the rate of a mile an hour, with the slightest wind,
amid the granite rocks of the channel. In this channel we are
in the shadow of the old historical seat of empire, the island of
Elephantine ; and, turning into the naiTow passage to the left,
we announce by a rocket to the dahabeehs moored at Assouan
the arrival of another inquisitive American. It is Sunday
night. Our dragoman despatches a messenger to the chief reis
of the cataract, who lives at Philse, five miles above. A second
one is sent in the course of the night ; and a third meets the

,u-

PASSING THE CATARACT OF THE NILE.

217

old patriarch on his way to our boat at sunrise. It is necessary
to impress the Oriental mind with the importance of the travel-
lers who have arrived at the gate of Nubia.

The Nile voyager who moors his dahabeeh at the sand-bank
with the fleet of merchant boats, above Assouan, seems to be at
the end of his journey. Travellers from the days of Herodotus
even to this century have followed each other in saying that
the roar of the cataract deafened the people for miles around.
Civilization has tamed the rapids. New there is neither sight
nor sound of them here at Assouan. To the southward, the
granite walls which no doubt once dammed the river have been
broken through by some pre-historic convulsion that strewed
the fragments about in grotesque confusion. The island of
Elephantine, originally a long heap of granite, is thrown into
the middle of the Nile, dividing it into two narrow streams.
The southern end rises from the water, a bold mass of granite.
Its surface is covered with ruins, or rather with the debris of
many civilizations ; and into this mass and hills of brick, stone,
pottery, and ashes, Nubian women and children may be seen
constantly poking, digging out coins, beads and images, to sell
to the howadji. The north portion of the island is green with
wheat ; and it supports two or three mud-villages, which offer
a good field for the tailor and the missionary.

The passage through the east channel, between Assouan and
Elephantine, is through walls of gi*anite rocks ; and southward
at the end of it the view is bounded by a field of broken granite
gradually rising, and apparently forbidding egress in that direc-
tion. If the traveller comes for scenery, as some do, nothing
could be wilder and at the same time more beautiful than these
fantastically piled crags ; but considered as a navigable highway
the river here is a failure.

- Early in the morning the head sheykh of the cataract comes
on board, and xhe long confab which is preliminary to any
undertaking, begins. There ai*e always as many difficulties in
the way of a trade or an arrangement as there are quills on a
porcupine ; and a great part of the Egyptian bargaining is the
preliminary plucking out of these quills. The cataracts are the
hereditary property of the Nubian sheykhs and their tribes who
live near them — belonging to them more completely than the
rapids of the St. Lawrence to the Indian pilots ; almost their

2l8

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

■1,:;

iff 1 i

1 V '^ 9

'■ ^

whole liveiiliood comes from helping boats up and down th«
rapids, and their harvest season is the winter when the daha-
beehs of the howadji require their assistance. They magnify
the difficulties and dangers and make a mystery of their skill
and knowledge. But, with true Orientalism, they appear to
seek rather to lessen than to increase their business. They
oppose intolerable delays to the traveller, keep him waiting at
Assouan by a thousand excuses, and do all they can to drive
him discouraged down the river. During this winter boats
have been kept waiting two weeks on one frivolous excuse or
another — the day was unlucky, or the wind was unfavorable,
or some prince had the preference. Princes have been very
much in the way this winter ; the fact would seem to be that
European princes are getting to run up the Nile in shoals, as
plenty as shad in the Connecticut, more being hatched at home
than Europe has employment for.

Several thousand people, dwelling along the banks from As-
souan to three or four miles above Philae, share in the profits of
the passing boats ; and although the sheykhs, and head reises
(or captains) of the cataract get the elephant's share, every
family receives something — it may be only a piastre or two —
on each dahabeiih ; and the sheykhs draw from the villages as
many men as are required for each passage. It usually takes
two days for a boat to go up the cataract and not seldom they
are kept in it three or four days, and sometimes a week. The
fii-st day the boat gets as far as the island of Sehayl, where it
ties up and waits for the cataract people to gather next morning.
They may take it into their heads not to gather, in which case
the traveller can sun himself all day on the rocks, or hunt up
the inscriptions which the Pharaohs, on ^^eir raids into Africa
for slaves and other luxuries, cut in the gi*anite in their days of
leisure three or four thousand yeai*s ago, before the world got
its present impetus of hurry. Or they may come and pull the
boat up a rapid or two, then declare they have not men enough
for the final struggle, and leave it for another night in the
roaring desolation. To put on force enough, and cables strong
enough not to break, and promptly drag the boat through in
one day would lessen the money-value of the achievement
perhaps in the mind of the owner of the boat. Nature has
done a great deal to make the First Cataract an obstacle to

:'. ' !

il 1

PASSING THE CATARACT OV THE NILE. 219

navigation, but the wily Nubian could teach nature a lesson ;
at any rate he has never relinquished the key to the gates. He
owns the cataracts as the Bedawees own the pyramids of Greezeh
and the routes across the desert to Sinai and Petra.

The aged reis comes on board ; and the preliminary ceremo-
nies, exchange of compliments, religious and social, between him
and our astute dragoman begin. Coffee is made, the reis's pipe
is lighted, and the conversation is directed slowly to the ascent
of the cataracts. The head reis is accompanied by two or three
others of inferior dignity and by attendants who squat on the
deck in attitudes of patient indifference. The world was not
made in a day. The reis looks along the deck and says :

" This boat is very large ; it is too long to go up the cataract."

There is no denying it. The dahabeeh is larger than almost
any other on the river ; it is one hundred and twenty feet
long. The dragoman says :

" But you took up General McClellan's boat, and that is
large."

" Very true, effendi ; but why the howadji no come when
Genel Clemen come, ten days ago ]"

" We chose to come now."

" Such a long boat never went up. Why you no come two
months ago when the river was high V This sort of talk goes
on for half an hour. Then the other sheykh speaks : —

" What is the use of talking all this stuff to Mohammed
Abd-el-Atti Effendi ; he knows all about it."

" That is true. We shall go."

" Well, it is ' finish'," says Abd-el-Atti.

When the long negotiation is concluded, the reis is intro-
duced into the cabin to pay his respects to the howadji ; he
seats himself with dignity and salutes the ladies with a watch-
ful self-respect. The reis is a grown Nubian, with fiiiely cut
features but a good many shades darker than would be fellow-
shipped by the Sheltering Wings Association in America, small
feet, and small hands with long tapering fingers that confess an
aristoci'atic exemption from manual labor. He wears a black
gown, and a white turban ; a camel's hair scarf distinguishes
him fi*om the vulgar. This sheykh boasts I suppose as ancient
blood as runs in any aristocratic veins, counting his ancestors
back in unbroken succession to the days of the Prophet at least,

220

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

|\;

4 '

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ii i>

■

£* '

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■■ k-

and not improbably to Ishmael. That he wears neither stock-
ings nor slippers does not detract from his simple dignity. Our
conversation while he pays his visit is confined to the smoking
of a cigar and some well-meant grins and smiles of mutual good
feeling.

While the morning hours pass wo have time to gather all
the knowledge of Assouan that one needs for the enjoyment of
life in this world. It is an ordinary Egyptian town of sunbaked
brick, brown, dusty, and unclean, with shabby bazaars con-
taining nothing, and full of importunate beggars and insatiable
traders in curiosities of the upper country. Importunate
vendors beset the traveller as soon as he steps ashore, ofiering
him all manner of trinkets which he is eager to purchase and
doesn't know what to do with when he gets them. There
are cix)oked, odd-shaped knives and daggers, in ornamental
sheaths of crocodile skin, and savage spears with great round
hippopotamus shields from Kartoom or Abyssinia ; jagged iron
spears and lances and ebony clubs from Darfoor ; cunning
Nubian silver-work, bracelets and great rings that have been
worn by desert camel-drivers ; moth-eaten ostrich feathers ;
bows and arrows tipped with flint from the Soudan, necklaces
of glass and dirty leather charms (containing words from the
Koran) ; broad bracelets and anklets cut out of big tusks of
elephants and traced in black, rude swords that it needs two
hands to swing ; bracelets of twisted silver cord and solid silver
as well ; earrings so large that they need to be hitched to a
strand of the hair for support ; nose-rings of brass and silver
and gold, as large as the earrings ; and " Nubian costumes" for
women — a string with leather fringe depending to tie about the
loins — suggestions of a tropical life under the old dispensation.

The beach, crowded wiih trading vessels and piled up with
merchandise, presents a lively picture. There are piles of
Manchester cotton and boxes of English brandy — to warm
outwardly and inwardly the natives of the Soudan — which are
being loaded, for transport above the rapids, upon kneeling
dromedaries which protest against the load in that most vulgar
guttural of all animal sounds, more uncouth and less musical
than the agonized bray of the donkey — a sort of gi-ating
menagerie-grumble which has neither the pathos of the sheep's
bleat nor the dignity of the lion's growl ; and bales of cinnamon

PASSING THE CATARACT OF THE NILE.

\2l

or stock-
ty. Our
smoking
ual good

ither all
^ment of
unbaked
ars con-
isatiable
)rtunate
offering
lase and
There
Eimental
t round
fed iron
nmning
'e been
athers ;
ick laces
om the
usks of
ids two
silver
[ to a
silver
es" for
)ut the
sation.
p with
lies of
warm
eh are
eeling
i^ulgar
lusical
rating
heep's
amon

and senna and ivory to go down the river. The wild Bishareo
Arab attends his dromedaries ; he has a clear-cut and rather
delicate face, is bareheaded, wears his black hair in ringlets
long upon his shoulders, and has for all dress a long strip of
brown cotton cloth twisted about his body and his loins, leav-
ing his legs and his right arm free. There are the fat, sleek
Greek merchant, in sumptuous white Oriental costume, loung-
ing amid his merchandise ; the Syrian in gay apparel, with
pistols in his shawl-belt, preparing for his journey to Kartoom ;
and the black Nubian sailors asleep on the sand. To add a
little color to the picture, a Ghawazee, or dancing-girl, in
striped flaming gown and red slippers, dark but comely, covered
with gold and silver-gilt necklaces and bracelets, is walking
about the shore, seeking whom she may devour.

At twelve o'clock we are ready to push off. The wind is
strong from the north. The cataract men swarm on board,
two or three sheykhs and thirty or forty men. They take
command and possession of the vessel, and our reis and crew
give way. We have carefully closed the windows and blinds
of our boat, for the cataract men are reputed to have long arms
and fingers that crook easily. The Nubians run about like
cats ; four are at the helm, some are on the bow, all are talk-
ing and giving orders ; there is an indescribable bustle and
whirl as our boat is shoved off from the sand, with the chorus
of " Ha ! Yiilesah. Hil ! Yalesah ! "* and takes the current.
The great sail shaped like a bird's wing and a hundred feet
long, is shaken out forward, and we pass swiftly on our way
between the granite walls. The excited howadji are on deck
feeling to their finger ends the thrill of expectancy.

The first thing the Nubians want is something to eat — a
chronic complaint here in this land of romance. Squatting in
circles all over the boat they dip their hands into the bowls of

*Yalesali (I spell the name according to the sound of the pronunciation)
was, some say, one of the sons of Noan who was absent at the time the
ark sailed, having gone down into Abyssinia. They pushed the ark in
pursuit of him, and Noah called after his son, as the crew poled along,
"Hal Yalesah ! " And still the Nile boatmen call Yalesah to come,
as they push the poles and haul the sail, and urge the boat toward
Abyssinia. Very likely " Ha ! Yalesah ! " (as I catch it) is only a cor-
niption of "Halee! 'EesJi; " SeyyidnA 'Eesd, is the Moslem name for
*• Our Lord Jesus. "

2^1

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

Ill

W- I

softened broad, cramming the food down tlioir throats, and
swallow all the cofiee that can be made for them, with the
gusto and appetite of simple men who have a stomach and no
conscience.

While the Nubians are chattering and eating, wo are gliding
up the swift stream, the granite rocks opening p, passage for us ;
but at the end of it our way seems to bo barred. The only
visible oi)ening is on the extreme left, where a small stream
struggles through the boulders. While we are wondering if
that can bo our course, the helm is suddenly put hard about,
and we then shoot to the right, finding our way, amid whirl-
pools and boulders of granite, past the head of Elephantine
island ; and before we have i-ecovered from this surprise wo
turn sharply to the left into a narrow passage, and the cataract
is before us.

It is not at all what we have expected. In appearance this
is a cataract without any falls ar.d scarcely any rapids. A per-
son brought up on Niagara or Montmorenc}' feels himself trifled
with here. The fisherman in the mountaiii streams of America
has come upon many a scene that resembles this — a river-be<l
strewn with boulders. Only, this is on a grand scale. We
had been led to expect at h ist high precipices, walls of lofty
rock, between which we should sail in the midst of raging
I'apids and falls ; and that there would be hundreds of savages
on the rocks above dragging our boat v/ith cables, and occasion-
ally i)lunging into the torrent in order to carry a life-line to the
top of some seagirt rock. All of this we did not see ; but yet
we have more respect for the cataract before we get through it
than when it first came in sight.

What we see \i) mediately before us is a basin, it may be a
quarter of a mi]* ., it may be half a mile broad, and two miles
long ; a wild expanse of broken granite rocks and boulders
strewn hap-hazard, some of them showing the red of the syenite
and others black and polished and shining in the sun ; a field
of rocks, none of them high, of fantastic shapes ; and through
this field the river breaks in a hundred twisting passages and
chutes, all apparently small, but the water in them is foaming
and leaping and flashing white ; and the air begins to be per-
vaded by the multitudinous roar of rapids. On the east, the
side of the land-passage between Assouan and Philte, were high

PASSING THE CATARACT OF TIIK NILE. 223

ats, and
with th«
h nnd nu

e gliding
e for us ;
riio only
1 stream
loring if
d about,
id whirl-
phantine
irise we
cataract

,nce this
A per-
If trifled
America
'iver-be<l
le. We
of lofty
' raging
savages
ccasion-
le to the
but yet
rough it

ay be a
o miles
oulders
syenite
a field
ih rough
jes and
oaming
be per-
ast, the
re high

and jagged rocks in odd forms, now and then a palm-tree, and
hero and there a mud-villago. On the west the basin of the
cataract is hem»nod in by the desert hi'ls, and the yellow Libyan
sand drifts over them in shining waves and rifts, which in some
lights have the almost maroon color that we see in Oerome's
pictuies. To the south is an impassable barrier of granite and
sand — mountains of them — beyond the glistening fields of rocKS
and watur through which we are to find our way.

The ditficulty of this navigation Is not one cataract to be
overcome by one; heroic eflbrt, but a hun<lred little catamcts or
swift tortuous sluiceways, which are much more formidable
when wo get into t\wu\ than they are when seen at a distance.
The diihabec'hs which attempt to wind through them are in con-
stant danger of having holes knocked in their hulls by the
rocks.

The wind is strong, and wo are sailing swiftly on. It is im
jMJssible to tell which one of the half-dozen equally uninviting
channels we are to take. Wo guess, and of course point out
the wrong one. We approach, with sails still set, a narrow
passage through which the water pours in what is a very
respectable torrent ; but it is not a straight passage, it has a
bend in it ; if we get through it, we must make a sharp turn
to the left or run upon a ridge of rocks, and even then we
shall be in a I toiling surge ; and if we fail to make head against
the current we shall go whirling down the caldron, bumping on
the rocks — not a pleasant thing for a dahabeeh one hundred
and twenty feet long with a cabin in it as large as a hotel.
The passage of a boat of this size is evidently an event of some
interest to the cataract people, for we see groups of them watch-
ing us from the rocks, and following along the shore. And we
think that seeing our boat go up from the shoi*e might be the
best way of seeing it.

We draw slowly in, the boat trembling at the entrance of the
swift water ; it entera, nosing the cuirent, feeling the tug of the
sail, and hesitates. Oh, for a strong puff of wind ! There are
five watchful men at the helm ; there is a moment's silence,
and the boat still hesitates. At this critical instant, while we
hold our breath, a naked man, whose name I am sorry I can-
not give to an admiring American public, appears on the bow
with a rope in his teeth ; he plunges in and makes for the

i L

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i !

1 '

224

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

: 1

-i i

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nearest rock. He swims hand over hand, swinging his arms
from the shoulders out of water and stri ing them forward,
splashing along like a side-wheeler — the common way of swim-
ming in the heavy water of the Nile. Two other black figures
tollow him and the rope is made fast to the point of the rock.
We have something to hold us against the stream.

And now a terrible tumult arises on board the boat which is
seen to be covered with men ; one gang is hauling on the rope
to draw the great sail close to its work ; another gang is haul-
ing on the rope attached to the rock, and both are singing that
wild chanting chorus without which no Egyptian sailors pull
an ounce or lift a pound ; the men who are not pulling are
shouting and giving orders; the sheykhs, on the upper deck
where we sit with American serenity exaggerated amid the
bab'^l, in jumping up and down in a frenzy of excitement,
screaming and gesticulating. We hold our own ; we gain a
little ; we pull forward where the danger of a smash against
the rocks is increased. More men appear on the rocks, whom
we take to be spectators of our passage. No ; they lay hold of
the rope. With the additional help we still tremble in the
jaws of the pass. I walk aft, and the stern is almost upon the
rocks ; it grazes them ; but in the nick of time the bow swings
round, we turn short off into an eddy ; the great wing of a sail
is let go, and our cat-like sailors are aloft, crawling along the
slender yard, which is a hundred feet in length, and furling the
tugging canvas. We breathe more freely, for the first danger
is over. The first gate is passed.

In this lull there is a confab with the sheykhs. We are at
the island of Sehayl, and have accomplished what is usually the
first day's journey of boats. It would be in harmony with the
Oriental habit to stop here for the remainder of the day and the
night. But our dragoman has in mind to accomplish, if not the
impossible, what is synonymous with it in the East, the unusual.
The result of the inflainmatory stump-speeches on both sides is
that two or three gold pieces ai-e passed into the pliant hand of
the head sheykh, and he sends for another sheykh and more
men.

For some time we have been attended by increasing proces-
sions of men and boys on shore ; Lhey cheered us as we passed
the first rapid; they came out from the villages, from the

PASSING THE CATARACT OF THE NILE. 22$

his arms
i forward,
r of swini-
ck figures

the rock.

t which is
1 the rope
ig is haul-
nging that
lilors pull
)ulling aie
pper deck

amid the
xcitement,
we gain a
sh against
ckS; whom
lay hold of
ible in the
t upon the
»ow swings
ig of a sail

along the
[furling the

st danger

We are at
iisually the

with the
ay and the

if not the
le unusual.
3th sides is
nt hand of

.and moie

( . ,. ; :

ng proces-
we passed
from the

crevices of the rocks, their blue and white gowns flowing in the
wind, and make a sort of holiday of our passage. Less conspi-
cuous at first are those without gowns — they are hardly
distinguishable from the black rocks amid which they move.
As we lie here, with the rising roar of the rapids in our ears,
we can see no further opening for our passage.

But we are preparing to go on. Ropes are carried out for-
ward over the rocks. More men appear, to aid us. We said
there were fifty. We count seventy ; we count eighty ; there
are at least ninety. They come up by a sort of magic. From
whence are they, these black forms i They seem to grow out
of the rocks at the wavv», of the sheykh's hand ; they are of the
same color, shining meL of granite. The swimmers and divers
arc simply smooth statues hewn out of the syenite or the basalt.
They are not unbaked clay like the rest of us. One expects to
see them disappear like stones when they jump into the water.
The mode of our navigation is to drew the boat along, hugged
close to the shore rock&, so closely that the current cannot get
full hold of it, and thus to work it round the bends.

We are crawling slowly on in this manner, clinging to the
rocks, when unexpectedly a passage opens to the left. The
water before us runs like a mill-i'ace. If we enter it, nothing
would seem to be able to hold the boat from dashing down
amidst the breakers. But the bow is hardly let to feel the
current before it is pulled short round, and we are swinging in
the swift stream. j3efore we know it we are in the anxiety of
another tug. Suppose the rope should break ! In an instant
the black swimmers are overboard striking out for the rocks ;
two ropes are sent out, and secured ; and, the gang° hauling on
them, we are working inch by inch through, everybody on
board trembling with excitement. We look at our watches ;
it seems only fifteen minutes since we left Assouan ; it is an
hour and a quarter. Do we gain in the chute 1 It is difficult
to say ; the boat hangs bauik and strains ax> the cables ; but just
as we are in the pinch of doubt, the big sail unfurls its wing
with exciting suddenness, a strong gust catches it, we feel the
lift, and creep upward, amid an infernal din of singing and
shouting and calling on the Prophet from the gangs who haul
in the sail-rope, who tug at the cables attached to the rocks,
who are pulling at the hawsers on the shore. We forge ahead
15

■I H

t !).

fi ; !■

n ti !

226

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

and are about to dash into a boiling caldron before us, from
whicli there appears to be no escape, when a skilful turn of the
great creaking helm once more throws us to the left, and we are
again in an eddy with the stream whirling by us, and the sail
is let go and is furled.

The place where we He is barely long enough to admit our
boat ; its stern just clears the rocks, its bow is aground on hard
sand. The number of men and boys on the rocks has increased ;
it is over one hundred, it is one hundred and thirty ; on a re-
count it is one hundred and fifty. An anchor is now carried
out to hold us in position when we make a new start ; more
ropes are taken to the shore, two hitched to the bow and one to
the stern. Straight before us is a narrow passage through
which the water comes in foaming ridges with extraordinary
rapidity. It seems to be our way ; but of cours '^^ is not. We
are to turn the corner sharply, before rea^iviL^ it ; what will
happen then we shall see.

There is a slight lull in the excitement, while the extra
hawsers are got out and preparations are made for the next
struggle. The sheykhs light their long pipes, and squatting on
deck gravely wait. The men who have tobacco roll up cigarettes
and smoke them. The swimmers come on board for reinforce-
ment. The poor fellows are shivering as if they had an ague
fit. The Nile may be friendly, though it does not offer a warm
bath at this time of the year, but when they come out of it
naked on the rocks the cold nortli wind sets their white teeth
chattering. The dragoman brings out a bottle of braruy. Jfc
is none of your ordinary brandy, but must have co^ c -ev.il^
dollar a gallon, and would burn a hole in a new piece u '^ vf^ n
cloth. He pours out a tumblerful of it, and offers it to c of
the granite men. The granite man pours it down his throat in
one flow, without moving an eye-winker, and holds the glass
out for another. His throat must be lined with zinc. A second
tumblerful follows the first. It is like pouring liquor into a
brazen image.

I said there was a lull, but this is only in contrast to the
preceding fury. There is still noise enough, over and above the
roar of the waters, in the preparations going forward, the din of
a hundred people screaming together, each one giving orders,
and elaborating his opinion by a rhetorical use of his hands.

.4 J

PASSING THE CATARACT OF THE NILE.

227

The waiting crowd scattered over the rocks disposes itself
picturesquely, as an Arab crowd always does, and probably
cannot help doing, in its blue and white gowns and white
turbans. In the midst of these preparations, and unmindful of
any excitement or confusion, a sheykh, standing upon a littL^
square of sand amid the rocks, and so close to the deck of the
boat that we can hear his " Alhihoo Akbar " (God is most
Great), begins his kneelings and prostrations towards Mecca,
and continues at his pi'ayei-s, as undisturbed and as unregarded
as if he were in a mosque, and wholly oblivious of the babel
around him. So common has religion become in this land of its
origin ! Here is a half-clad sheykh of the desert stopping, in
the midst of his contract to take the howadji up the cataract,
to raise his forefinger and say, " I testify that there is no deity
but God ; and I testify that Mohammed is his servant a>id his
apostle."

Judging by the eye, the double turn we have next to make
is too short to admit our long hull. It does not seem possible
that we can squeeze through ; but we try. We first swing out
and take the current as if we were going straight up the rapids.
We are held by two ropes from the stern, while by four ropes
from the bow, three on the left shore and one on an islet to the
right, the cataract people are tugging to draw us up. As we
watch almost breathless the strain on the ropes, look ! there is
a man in the tumultuous rapid before us swiftly coming down
as if to his destruction. Another one follows, and then another,
till there are half a dozen men and boys in this jeopardy, this
situation of certain death to anybody not made of cork. And
the singular thing about it is that the men are seated upright,
sliding down the shining water like a boy, who has no respect
for his trowsers, down a snow-bank. As they dash past us, we
see that each man is seated on a round log about five feet long ;
some of them sit upright with their legs on the log, displaying
the soles of their feet, keeping the equilibrium with their hands.
These are smooth slimy logs that a white m^n would find it
difficult to sit on if they were on shore, and in this water they
would turn with him only once — the log woukl go one way and
the man another. But these fellows are in no fear of the rocks
below ; they easily guide their barks out of the rushing floods,
through the whirlpools and eddies, into the slack shore- water in

IWT"

228

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

iflj

»:!

.ti

i I

the rear of the boat, and stand up like men and demand back-
sheesh. These logs are popular ferry-boats in the U})per Nile ;
I have seen a woman crossing the river on one, her clothes in a
basket on her head — and the Nile is nowhere an easy stream to
swim.

Far ahead of us the cataract people are seen in lines and
groups, half-hidden by the rocks, pulling and stumbling along ;
black figures are scattered along, lifting the ropes over the jag-
ged stones, ard freeing them so that we shall not be drawn
back, as we slowly advance ; and severe as their toil is, it is
not enough to keep them warm when the chilly wind strikes
them. They get bruised on the rocks also, and have'time to
show us their barked shins and request backsheesh. An
Egyptian is never too busy or too much in peril to forget to
prefer that request at the sight of a traveller. When we turn
into the double twist I spoke of above, the bow goes sideways
upon a rock, and the stern is not yet free. The punt-poles are
brought into requisition ; half the men are in the water ; there
is poling and pushing and grunting, heaving, and " Yah Mo-
hsmmed, Yah Mohamw-ec^," with all which noise and outlay of
brute strength, the boat moves a little on and still is held close
in hand. The current runs very swiftly. We have to turn
almost by a right angle to the left and then by the same angle
to the right ; and the question is whether the boat is not too
long to turn in the space. We just scrape along the rocks, the
current growing every moment stronger, and at length get far
enough to let the stern swing. I run back to see if it will go
free. It is a close fit. The stern is clear ; but if our boat had
been four or five feet longer, her voyage would have ended then
and there. There is now before us a straight pull up the swift-
est and nan'owest rapid we have thus far encountered.

Our sandal — the row-boat belonging to the dahabeeh, that
becomes a felucca when a mast is stepped into it — which has
accompanied us fitfully during the passage, appearing here and
there tossing about amid the rocks, and aiding occasionally in
the transport of ropes and men to one rock and another, now
turns away to seek a less difficult passage. The rocks all about
us are low, from three feet to ten feet high. We have one rope
out ahead, fastened to a rock, upon which stand a gang of men,
pulling. There is a row of men in the water under the left side

PASSING THE CATARACT OF THE NILE.

229

imnd back-
])per Nile ;
iothes in a
y stream to

Hues and
ing along ;
l^er the jag-
be drawn
oil is, it is
ind strikes
ve'^time to
jesh. An
forget to
sn we turn
s sideways
t-poles are
iter ; there
"YahMo-
i outlay of
i held close
ve to turn
same angle
is not too
rocks, the
2;th get far
it will go
r boat had
3nded then
the swift-
d.

.beeh, that
which has
J here and
jionally in
)ther, now
3 all about
e one rope
ig of men,
e left side

of the boat, heaving at her with their broad backs, to prevent
her smashing on the rocks. But our main dragging force is in
the two long lines of men attached to the ropes on the left
sliore. They stretch out ahead of us so far that it needs an
opera-glass to discover whether the leaders are pulling or only
soldiering. These two long struggling lines are led and directed
by a new figure who appears upon this operatic scene. It is a
comical sheykh, who stands upon a high rock at one side and
lines out the catch-lines of a working refrain, while the gangs
howl and haul, in a surging chorus. Nothing could be wilder
or more ludicrous, in the midst of this roar of rapids and strain
of cordage. The sheykh holds a long staff which he swings
like the baton of the leader of an orchestra, quite unconscious
of the odd figure he cuts against the blue sky. He grows more
and more excited, he swings his arms, he shrieks, but always
in tune and in time with the hauling and the v/ilder chorus of
the cataract men ; he lifts up his right leg, he lifts up his left
leg, he is in the very ecstasy of the musical conductor, display-
ing his white teeth, and raising first one leg and then the other
in a delirious swinging motion, all the more picturesque on
account of his flowing blue robe and his loose white cotton
dru'vers. He lifts !ds le^' with a gigantic pull, which is enough
in its*. If to draw the boat onward, and every time he lifts it
the boat gains on the current. Surely such an orchestra and
such a leader was never seen before. For the orchestra is
scattered over half an acre of ground, swaying and pulling and
singing in rhythmic show, and there is a high wind and a blue
sky, and rocks and foaming torrents, and an African village
with palms in the background, amid the debris of the great
convulsion of nature which has resulted in this chaos. Slowly
we creep up against the stiff boiling stream, the good Moslems
on deck muttering prayers and telling their beads, and finally
make the turn and pass the worst eddies ; and as we swing
round into an ox-bow channel to the right, the big sail is again
let out and hauled in, and with cheers we float on some rods
and come into a quiet shelter, a stage beyond the journey
usually made the first day. It is now three o'clock.

We have come to the real cataract, to the stiffest pull and
the most dangerous passage.

A email freight dahabeiih obstructs the way, and while thii

236

MUMMIES AND MOSLLMS.

Ill

lit 1*

A I

: .1

B . i

is being hauled ahead, we prepare for the final struggle. The
chief cataract is called Bab (gate) Aboo Rabbia, from one of
Mohammed Ali's captains, who some yeara ago vowed that he
would take his dahabeiih up it with his own crew and without
aid from the cataract people. He lost his boat. It is also
sometimes called Bab Inglese from a young Englishman, named
Cave, who attempted to swim down it early one morning, in
imitation of the Nubian swimmers, and was drawn into the
whirlpools, and not found for days after. For this last struggle
in addition to the other ropes, an enormous cable is bent on,
not tied to the bow, but twisted round the cross-beams of the
forward deck, and carried out over the rocks. From the shel-
ter where we lie we are to push out and take the current at a
sharp angle. The water of this main cataract sucks down from
both sides above through a channel perhaps one hundred feet
wide, very rapid an<l with considerable fall, and with such
force as to raise a ridge in the middle. To pull up this hill of
water is the tug ; if the ropes let go we shall be i.lashed into a
hundred pieces on the rocks below and be swallowed in the
whirlpools. It would not be a sufficient compensation for this
fate to have this rapid hereafter take our name.

The preparations are leisurely made, the likies are laid along
the rocks and the men are distributed. The fastenings are
carefully examined. Then we begin to move. There are now
four conductors of this gigantic orchestra (the employment of
which as a musical novelty I respectfully recommend to the
next Boston J ubilee), each posted on a high rock, and waving
a stick w th a white rag tied to it. It is now four o'clock.
An hour has been consumed in raising the curtain for the last
act. We are now carefully under way along the rocks which
are almost within reach, held tight by the side ropes, but push-
ed off and slowly urged along by a line of half-naked fellows
under the left side, whose backs are against the boat and whose
feet walk along the perpendicular ledge. It would take only
a sag of the boat, apparently, to crush them. It does not need
our eyes to tell us when the bow of the boat noses the swift
water. Our sandal has meantime carried a line to a rock on
the opposite side of the channel, and our sailors haul on this and
draw us ahead. But we are held firmly by the shore lines.
The boat is never suffered, as I said, to get an inch the advan-
teg®* hut is always held tight in hand.

gle. The
)m one of
d that he
i without
It is also
tn, named
)rning, in

into the
fc struggle

bent on,
ms of the

the shel-
rent at a
3wn from
dred feet
ith such
lis hill of
3d into a
i in the
I for this

id along
ings are
are now
'^ment of
I to the
waving
o'clock,
the last
s which
it push-
fellows
1 whose
fe only
ot need
e swift
ock on
bis and
e lines,
advan-

PASSING THE CATARACT OF THE NILE. 23 1

As we appear at the foot of the rapid, men come riding down
it on logs as before, a sort of horseback feat in the boiling
water, steering themselves round the eddies and landing below
U3, One of them swims round to the rock where a line is tied,
and looses it as we pass ; another, sitting on the slippery stick
and showing the white soles of his black feet, paddles himself
about amid the whirlpools. We move so slowly that we have
time to enjoy all these details, to admire the deep yellow of the
Libyan sand drifted over the rocks at the right, and to cheer a
sandal bearing the American flag which is at this moment
shooting the rapids in another channel beyond us, tossed about
like a cork. We seo the meteor flag flashing out, we loose it
behind the rocks, and catch it again appearing below. " O
star spang " — but our own orchestra is in full swing again.
The comical sheykh begins to swing his arms and his stick
back and forth in an increasing measure, until his whole body
is drawn into the vortex of his enthusiasm, and one leg after
the other, by a sort of rhythmic hitch, goes up, displaying the
white and baggy cotton drawers. The other three conductors
join in, and a deafening chorus from two hundred men goes up
along the ropes, while we creep slowly on amid the suppressed
excitement of those on board, who anxiously watch the strain-
ing cables, and with a running fire of " backsheesh, back-
sheesh," from the boys on the rocks close at hand. The cable
holds ; the boat nags and jerks at it in vain ; through all the
roar and rush we go on, lifted, I think perceptibly, every time
the sheykh lifts his leg.

At the right moment the sail is again shaken down ; and the
boat at once feels it. It is worth five hundred men. The ropes
slacken ; we are going by the wind against the current ; haste
is made to unbend the cable ; line after line is let go until we
are held by one alone ; the crowd thins out, dropping away
with no warning, and before we know that the play is played
out, the cataract people have lost all interest in it, and are scat-
tering over the black rocks to their homes. A few stop to
cheer ; the chief conductor is last seen on a rock, swinging the
white rag, hurrahing and salaaming in grinning exultation; the
last line is cast ofi", and we round the point and come into
smooth but swift water, and glide into a calm wind. The
noise, the struggle, the tense strain, the uproar of men and

•i

t i

232

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

J I

'1 ''I

waves for four hours are all behind ; and houi-s of keener ex-
citement and enjoyment we have rarely known. At 12.20 we
left Assouan ; at 4.45 we swung round the rocky bend above
the last and greatest rapid. I write these figures ; for they
will be not without a melancholy interest to those who have
spent two or three days or a week in making this passage.

Turning away from the ragged mountains of granite which
obstruct the straight course of the river, we sail by Mahatta, a
little village of Nubians, a port where the tracing and freight
boats plying between the Mrst and Second Cataract load and
unload. There is a forest of masts and spars along the shore,
which is piled with merchandise, and dotted with sunlit figures
squatting in the sand, as if waiting for the goods to tranship
themselves. With the sunlight slanting en our full sail, we
glide into the shadow of high rocks, and enter, with the sud-
denness of a first discovery, into a deep winding river, the
waters of w^ich are dark and smooth, between lofty walls of
granite. These historic masses, which have seen pass so many
splendid processions and boastful expeditions of conquest in
what seems to us the twilight of the world, and which excited
the wonder of Father Herodotus only the other day, almost in
our own time (for the Greeks belong to us and not to antiquity
as it now unfolds itself), are piled in strange shapes, tottling
rock upon rock, built up grotesquely, now in likeness of animal,
or the gigantic profile of a human face, or temple walls and
castle towers and battlements. We wind through the solemn
highway, and suddenly, in the very gateway, Philce! The
lovely! Philse, the most sentimental ruin in Egypt. There
are the great pylon of the temple of Isis, the long colonnades
of pillars, the beautiful square temple, with lofty columns and
elongated capitals, misnamed Pharaoh's bed. The little oblong
island, something like twelve hundred feet long, banded all
round by an artificial wall, an island of rock completely covei-ed
with ruins, is set like the stone of a ring, with a circle of blue
water about it, in the clasp of higher encircling granite peaks
and ledges. On the left bank, as we turn to pass to the east
of the island, is a gigantic rock, which some persons have
imagined was a colossus once, perhaps in pre-Adamic times,
but which now has no resemblance to human shape, except in
a breast anl left arm. Some Pharaoh cut his cartouche on th©

jfc^aa.i

PASSING THE CATARACT OF THE NILE. 233

back — a sort of postage-stamp to pass the image along clown
the ages. The Pharaohs were a vulgar lot ; they cut their
names where /er they could find a conspicuous and smooth
place.

While wo are looking, distracted with novelty at every turn,
and excited by a grandeur and loveliness opening upon us every
moment, we have come into a quiet haven, shut in on all sides
by broken ramparts, — alone with this island of temples. The
sun is about to set, and its level light comes to us through the
columns, and still gilds with red and yellow gold tlie Libyan
sand sifted over the cliffs. We moor at once to a sand-bank
which has formed under the broken walls, and at once step on
shore. We climb to the top of the temple walls ; we walk on
the stone roof ; we glance into the temple on the roof, where is
sculptured the resurrection of Osiris. This cannot be called an
old temple. It is a creation of the Ptolemies, though it doubt-
lessly replaced an older edifice. The temple of Isis was not begun
more than three centuries before our era. Not all of these
structures were finished — the priests must have been still carv-
ing on their walls these multitudes of sculptures, when Christ
began his mission ; and more than four centuries after that the
mysterious rites of Isis were still celeb »ted in these dark
chambers. It is silent and dead enough hure now ; and there
lives nowhere upon the earth any man who can even conceive
the state of mind that gave those rites vitality. Even Egypt

..ihas changed its superstitions.
i Peace has come upon the earth after the strain of the las'
few hours. We can scarcely hear the roar of the rapids, in the
beating of which we had been. The sun goes, leaving a chang-
ing yellow and faint orange on the horizon. Above in the west

Uiis the crescent moon ; and now all the sky thereabout is rosy,
even to the zenith, a delicate and yet deep colour, like that of
the blush rose — a transparent colour that glows. A little later
we see from our boat the young moon through the columns of
the lesser temple. The January night is clear and perfectly
dry ; no dew is falling — no dew ever falls hei\'j — and the mul-
tiplied stars burn with uncommon lustre. When everything
else is still, we hear the roar of the rapids coming steaciily on
the night breeze, sighing through the old and yet modern palace-
temples of the parvenu Ptolemies, and of Cleopatra — a new

'^f

h 1

i! '1

il ''1

234

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

race of conquerors and pleasure hunters, who in vain copied the
magnificent works of the ancient Pharaohs.

Here on a pylon gate, General Dessaix has recorded the fact
that in February (Ventose) in the seventh year of the Republic,
General Bonaparte being then in possession of Lower Egypt,
he pursued to this spot the retreating Memlooks. Egyptian
kings, Ethiopian usurpers, Persians, Greeks, Romans, Nec-
tanebo, Cambyses, Ptolemy, Philadelphus, Cleopatra, and her
Roman lovers, Dessaix, — these are all shades now.

M <: f

Ii ,5

s. ■ lit

CHAPTER XX.

ON THE HORDERS OF THE DESERT.

(IX^N PASSING tlie First Cataract of the Nile we pass an
1 i^ ancient boundary line ; we go from the Egypt of old to
ll^j^ the Ethiopia of old ; we go from the Egypt proper of
to-day into Nubia. We find a different country, a different
river ; the people are of another race ; they have a different
language. We have left the mild, lazy, gentle fellaheen — a
mixed lot, but in general of Arabic blood — and come to Barabra,
whose di.strict extends from Philae to the Second Cataract, a
freer, manlier, sturdier people altogether. There are two tribes
of them, the Ken(')OS and the Nooba ; each has its own language.

Philffi was always the real boundary line, though the Pharaohs
pushed their frontier now and again, djwn towards the equator,
and built temples and set up their images, as at Aboo Simbel,
as at Samneh, and raked the south land for slaves and ivory,
concubines and gold. But the Ethiopians turned the tables
now and again, and conquered Egypt, and reigned in the palaces
of the Pharaohs, taking that title even, and making their names
dreaded as far as Judea and Assyria.

The Ethiopians were cousins indeed of the old Egyptians, and
of the Canaanites, for they were descendants of Cush, as the
Egyptians were of Mizriam, and the Canaanites were of
Canaan ; three of the sons of Ham. The Cushites, or Ethiops,
although so much withdrawn from the theatre of history, have
done their share of fighting — the main business of man hitherto.
Besides quarrels with their own brethren, they had often the
attentions of the two chief descendants of Shem, — the Jews
and the Arabs ; and after Mohammed's coming, the Arabs
descended into Nubia and forced the inhabitants into their reli-
gion at the point of the sword. Even the sons of Japhet must

11 i

• i 't

236

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

have their crack at these children of the " Sun-bumcd." It
wa8 a Roman prefect who, to avenge an attack on Kyene by a
warlike woman, penetrated as far south as El Berkel (of the
present day), and overthrew Candace the queen of the Ethi-
ojuans in Napata, her capital ; the large city, also called Meroe,
of which Herodotus heard such wonders.

Beyond Ethiopia lies the vast, black cloud of Negroland.
These negroes, with the crisp, woolly hair, did not descend
from anybody, according to the last reports; neither from Shem,
Ham nor Ja'^het. They have no part in the royal house of
Noah. They are left out in the heat. They are the puzzle of
ethnologists, the mystery of mankind. They are the real aris-
tocracy of the world, their origin being lost in the twilight of
time ; no one else can trace his descent so far back and come
to nothing. M. Lenormant says the black races have no tra-
dition of the Deluge. They appear to have been passed over
altogether, then. Where were they hidden] When we first
know Central Africa they are there. Where did they come
from] The great effort of ethnologists is to g hem dry-shod
round the Deluge, since derivation from Noo lenied them.
History has no information how they came into Africa. It
seems to me that, in history, whenever we hear of the occu-
pation of a new land, there is found in it a primitive race, to
be driven out or subdued. The country of the primitive negro
is the only one that has never invited the occupation of a more
powerful race. But the-negro blood, by means of slavery, has
been extensively distributed throughout the Eastern world.

These reflections did not occur to us the morning we left
Phila;. It was too early. In fact, the sun was just gilding
pf' Pharaoh's Bed," as the beautiful little Ptolemaic temple is
called, when we spread sail and, in the shadow of the broken
crags and savage rocks, began to glide out of the jaws of this
wild pass. At early morning everything has the air of adven-
ture. It was as if we were discoverers, about to come into a
new African kingdom at each turn in the swift stream. ' '• '

One must see, he cannot imagine, the havoc and destruction
hereabout, the grotesque and gigantic fragments of rock, the
islands of rock, the precipices of rock, made by the torrent
when it broke through here. One of these islands is Biggeh —
all rocks, not enough soft spot on it to set a hen. The rocks

ON THE BORDERS OF THE DESERT.

are pilod up into tlio blue sky ; from thoir summit wo got the
best view of Philjc — the jewel set in this rim of stone.

Above Phihe we pjws the tomb of a lioly man, high on the
hill, and underneath it, clinging to the slope, the oldest mos(pio
in Nubia, the Mostjue of Belal, falling now into ruin, but the
minaret shows in color no sign of great ago. How should it in
this climate, where you might leave a pair of white gloves upon
the rocks for a year, and expect to tind them unsoiled.

"How old do you suppose that mosque is, Abd-el-Atti ] "

"I tink about twelve hundred years old. Him boon built by
the Friends of our Prophet when they come up here to make the
people believe."

I like this euphuism. " But," wo ask, " suppose they didn't
believe, what then ] "

" When thira believe, all right ; when thim not believe, do
away wid 'em."

" But they mi'^'ht believe something else, if not what Moham-
med believed."

" Well, what our Prophet say ? Mohammad, lie say, find him
anybody believe in God, not to touch him ; find him anybody
believe in the Christ, not to touch him ; find him anybody
believe in Moses, not to touch him ; find him believe in the
prophets, not to touch him ; find him believe in bit wood, piece
stone, do way wid him. Not sol Men woi-ship something,
wood, stone, I can't tell — I tink dis is nothing."

Abd-el-Atti always says the " Friends " of Mohammed, never
followers or disciples. It is a pleasant word, and reminds us of
our native land. Mohammed had the good sense that our
politicians have. When he wanted anything, a city taken, a
new strip of territory added, a " third term," or any trifle, he
"put himself in the hands of his friends."
'The Friends were successful in this region. While the
remote Abyssinians retained Christianity, the Nubians all be-
came Moslems, and so remain to this day.

" You think, then, Abd-el-Atti, that the Nubians believed ] "

" Thim 'bliged. But I tink dese fellows, all of 'em, Miissel-
mens as far as the throat ; it don't go lower down."

The story is that this mosque was built by one of Moham-
med's captains after the great battle here with the Infidels —
the Nubians. Those who fell in the fight, it is also only tra-

238

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

dition, were buried in the cemetery near Assouan, and they are
martyra : to this day the Moslems who pass that way take off
their slippers and shoes.

After the battle, as thy corpses of the slain lay in indistin-
guishable heaps, it was impossible to tell who were martyrs
and who were unbelievers. Mohammed therefore ordered that
they should bury as Moslems all those who had large feet, and
pleasant faces, with the mark of prayer on the forehead. The
bodies of the others were burned as infidels.

As we sweep along, the mountains are still high on either
side, and the strips of verdure are very slight. On the east
bank, great patches of yellow sand, yellow as gold, and yet red-
dish in some lights, catch the sun.

I think it is the finest morning I ever saw, for clearness and
dryness. The thermometer indicates only 60^, and yet it is
not; too cool. The air is like wine. The sky is absolutely
cloudless, and of wonderful clarity. Here is a perfectly pure
and sweet atmosphere. After », little, the wind freshens, and
it is somewhat cold on deck, but the sky is like sapphire ; let
tha wind blow for a month, it will raise no cloud, nor any film
of it.

Everything is wanting in Nubia that would contribute to the
discomfort of a winter residence : —

It never rains ;

There is never any dew above Phila3 ;

There are no flies ; '

There are no fleas ;

There are no bugs, nor any insects whatever. The attempt
to introduce fleas into Nubia by means of dahabeehs has been a
failure.

In fact there is very little animal life ; scarcely any birds
are seen ; fowls of all sorts are rare. There are gazelles, how-
ever, and desert hares, and chameleons. Our chameleons neai'ly
starved for want of flies. There are big cro 'xiiles and large
lizards.

In a bend a few miles above PhUse is a whirlpool called '
Shaymt el Wah, from which is supposed to be a channel com-
municating under the mountain to the great Oasis one hundred
miles distant. The popular belief in these subteiranean com-
munications is very coDimon throughout the East. The holy

l! 1

ON THE BORDERS OF THE DESERT.

239

they are
take off

indistin-
martyra
red that
feet, and
d. The

a either
the east
yet red-

less and
'^et it is
solutely
bly pure
;ns, and
ire; let
my film

e to the

itempt
been a

r birds
, how-
neai'ly
large -

called
com-

Indred
corn-
holy

well, Zem-Zem, at Mecca has a connection with a spring at El
Gebel in Syria. I suppose that is perfectly well known. Abd-
el-Atti has tasted the waters of both; and they are exactly
alike ; besides, did he not know of a pilgrim who lost his drink-
ing-cup in Zem-Zem and recovered it in El Gebel

This Nubia is, to be siu-e, but a river with a colored border,
but I should like to make it seem real to you and not a mere
country of the imagination. People find room to live hjre;
life goes on after a fashion, and every mile there are evidences
of a mighty civilization and a great j)Ower which left its record
in gigantic works. There was a time, before the barriers broke
away at Silsilis, when this land was inundated by the annual
rise ; the Nile may have perpetually expanded above here into
a lake, as Herodotus reports.

We sail between low ridges of rocky hills, with naprow banks
of green and a few palms, but occasionally there is a village of
square mud houses. At Gertassee, boldly standing out on a
i-ocky platform, are some beautiful columns, the remains of a
temple built in the Roman time. The wind is strong and
rather colder with the turn of noon ; the nearer we come to the
tropics the colder it becomes. The explanation is that we get
nothing but desert winds ; and the desert is cool at this season ;
that is, it breeds at night cool air, although one does not com-
plain of its frigidity who walks over it at midday.

After passing Tafa, a pretty-looking village in the palms,
which boasts ruins both pagan and Christian, we come to rapids
and scenery almost as wild and lovely as that at Philse. The
river narrows, there are granite rocks and black boulders in the
stream ; we sail for a couple of miles in swift and deep water,
between high cliffs, and by lofty rocky islands — not without
leafage and some cultivation, and through a series of rapids,
not difficult but lively. And so we go cheerily on, through
savage natuir^ and gaunt ruins of forgfctton history ; past Kal-
dbshe, where are remains of the largest temple in Nubia ; past
Bayt el Wellee — "the hou..3 of the saint" — where Eameses
II. hewed a beautiful temple out of the rock ; past Gerf Hos-
sdyn, where Rameses II. hewed a still larger temple out of the
rock and covered it with his achievements, pictures in which
he appears twelve feet high, and slaying small enemies as a
husbandman threshes wheat with a flail. I should like to see

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240

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

an ancient --tone wall in Egypt, where this Barniim of an+*.quity
wasn't a(: ertising himself.

We leave him flailing the unfortunate ; at eight in the even-
ing we are still going on, first by the light of the crescent moon
and then by starlight, which is like a pale moonlight, so many
and lustrous are the stars; and last, about eleven o'clock, wo go
aground, and stop a little below Dakkeh, or seventy-one miles
from Philae, that being our modest run for the day.

Dakkeh, by daylight, reveals itself as a small mud-village
attached to a large temple. You would not expect to find a
temple here, but its great pylon looms over the town, and it is
worth at least a visit. To see such a structure in A.merica we
would travel a thousand miles; the traveller on the Nile debates
whether he will go ashore.

The bank is lined with the natives, who have something to
sell, eggs, milk, butter in little greasy "pats," and a sheep. The
men are, as to features and complexion, rather Arabic than
Nubian. The women have the high cheek-bones and broad
faces of our Indian squaws, whom they resemble in a general
way. The little girls, who wear the Nubian costume (a belt
with fringe) and strings of beads, are not so bad; some of them
well formed. The morning is cool, and the women all wear
some outer garment, so that the Nubian costume is not seen in
its simplicity, except as it is worn by children. I doubt if it is
at any season. So far as we have observed the Nubian women,
they are as modest in their dress as their Egyptian sisters.
Perhaps ugliness and modesty are sisters in their country. All
the women and girls have their hair braided in a sort of plait
in front, and heavily soaked with grease, so that it looks as if
they had on a wig or a frontlet of leather; it hangs in small,
hard, greasy curls, like leathern thongs, down each side. The
hair appears never to be undone — only freshly greased every
morning. Nose-rings and earrings abound.

This handsome temple was begun by Ergamenes, an Ethiopian
king ruling at Meroe, at the time of the second Ptolemy, during
the Greek period ; and it was added to both by Ptolemies and
Ceesars. This Nubia would seem to have been in possession of
Ethiopians and Egyptians turn and turn about, and, br.th hav-
ing the same religion, the temples prospered.

Ergamenes has gained a reputation by a change he made in

im+'.quity

bhe even-
snt moon
so many
ck, wc go
one miles

Lid-village
to find a
and it is
aerica wo
le debates

ething to
leep. The
abic than •
ind broad *
a general
le (a belt
e of them
all wear
ot seen in
ibt if it is
n women,
n sisters:*
itry. All
■t of plait
loks as if
in small,
de. The
led every

thiopian
y, during
mies and
session of

nth hav-

made in

ON THE BORDERS OF THE BESERT.

241

his religion, as it was practised in Meroe. When the priests
thought a king had reigned long enough it was their custom to
send him notice that the gods had ordered him to die ; and tht
king, who would rather die than commit an impiety, used to dit.
But Ergamenes tried another method, which he found worked
just as well; he assembled all the priests and slew them — a
very sensible thing on his part.

You would expect such a man to build a good temple. Th«
sculptures are very well executed, whether they are of his tim«
or owe their inspiration to Berenice and Cleopatra ; they show
greater freedom and variety than those of most temples ; the
figures of lions, monkeys, cows, and other animals are excellent;
and there is a picture of a man playing on a musical instrument,
a frame with strings stretched over it, played like a harp, but
not harp shaped — the like of which ia seen nowhere else. The
temple has the appearance of a fortification as well as a place
of worship. The towers of the propylon are ascended by interior
flights of stairs, and have, one above the other, four good-sized
chambers The stairways and the rooms are lighted by slits isxr^
the wall about an inch in diameter on the outside ; but cut with
a slant from the interior through some five feet of solid stone,
These windows are exactly like those in European towers, and
one might easily imagine himself in a Middle Age fortification.
The illusion is heightened by the remains of Christian paintings
on the walls, fresh in color, and in style very like those of the
earliest Christian art in Italian churches. In the temple we
are attended by r. Nubian with a long and threatening spear,
such as the peopla like to carry here ; the owner does not care
for blood, however; he only wants a little backsheesh.

Beyond Dakkeh the country opens finely ; the mountains fall
l)ack, and we look a long distance over the desert on each side,
the banks having only a few rods of green. Far off in the desert
on either hand and in front, are sharp pyramidical mountains,
in ranges, in groups, the resemblance to pyramids being very
striking. The atmosphere as to purity is extraordinary. Sim-
ply to inspire it is a deliglvt.;^9(r jr^ch^98^.Wft)(j^^^^ travel

thousands of miles. ,,. . r r ,; r',^' ,; '"

We pass small patches of the castor-oil pla^t, and of a reddish-
stemmed bush, bearing the Indian bendigo, Arabic 6aAima, the
fruit a sort of bean in appearance and about as palatable. The
16

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MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

castor-oil is much used by the women as a hair-dressing, but
they are not fastidious ; they use something else if oil is want-
ing. The demand for butter for this purpose raised the price
of it enormously this morning at Dakkeh,

In the afternoon, waiting for wind, we walk ashore pnd out
upon the naked desert — the desert which is broken only by an
occasional oasis, from the Atlantic to the Red Sea ; it has a
basis of limestone, strewn with sand like gold-dust, and a detritus
of stone as if it had been scorched by fire and worn by water.
There is a great pleasure in strolling over this pure waste blown
by the free air. We visit a Nubian village, and buy some
spurious scarabaei oflf the necks of the ladies of the town — alas,
for rural simplicity ! But these women are not only sharp,
they respect themselves sufficiently to dress modestly, and even
draw their shawls over their faces. The children take the
world as they find it as to clothes.

The night here, there being no moisture in the air, is as
brilliant as the day ; I have never seen the moon and stars so
clear elsewhere. These are the evenings that invite to long
pipes and long stories. Abd-el-Atti opens his budget from time
to time, as we sit on deck and while the time with anecdotes
and marvels out of old Arab chronicles, spiced with his own
ready wit and singular English. Most of them are too long for
these pages ; but here is an anecdote which, whether true or
not, illustrates the character of old Mohammed Ali ; —

" Mohammed Ali sent one of his captains, name of Walee
Kasheef, to Berr, capital of Nubia (you see it by and by, very
fashionable place, like I see *em in Hydee Park, what you call
Rotten Row). Walee when he come there, see the women,
their hair all twisted up and stuck together with grease and
castor-oil, and their bodies covered with it. He called the
sheykhs together and made them present of soap, and told them
to make the women clean the hair and wash themselves and
make themselves fit for prayer. It was in accordin' to the
Moslem religion so to do.

" The Nubians they not like this part of our religion, they
not like it at all. They send the sheykhs down to have con-
versation with Mohammed Ali, who been stop at Esneh. They
complain of what Walee done. Mohammed send for Walee,
and say,

<«<What this you been done in Nubia 1'

^^m

ON THE BORDERS OP THE DESERT.

"* Nothing, your highness, 'cept trying to make the Nubians
conform to the religion.*

"'Well," says old Mohammed, ' I not send you up there as
priest ; I send you up to get a little money. Don't you trouble
the Nubians. We don't care it' they go to Genn^h or Gehen-
nem if you get the money.' "

So the Nubians were left in sin and grease, and taxed accord-
ingly. And at this day the taj^es are even heavier. Every
date-palm and every sakiya is taxed. A sakiya sometimes pays
three pounds a year, when there is not a piece of fertile land
for it to water three rods square.

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CHAPTER XXI.

ETHIOPIA.

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fjT IS a sparkling morning at Wady Saboda ; we have tL«
^ desert and some of its high, scarred, and sandy pyra-
Ifel midal peaks close to us, but as is usual where a wady,
or valley, comes to the river, there is more cultivated land.
We see very little of the temple of Rameses II. in this "Valley
of the Lions," nor of the sphinxes in front of it. The desert
sand has blown over it and over it in drifts like snow, so that we
walk over the buried sanctuary, greatly to our delight. It is a
pleasure to find one adytum into which we cannot go and see
this Rameses pretending to make ofierings, but really, as usual,
offering to show himself.

At the village under the ledges, many of the houses are of
stone, and the sheykh has a pretentious stone enclosure with
little in it, all to himself. Shadoofs are active along the bank,
and considerable crops of wheat, beans, and corn ar^ well for-
ward. We stop to talk with a bright-looki j Arab, who
employs men to work his shadoofs, and lives here .n an enclosure
of cornstalks, with a cornstalk kennel in one comer, where he
and his family sleep. There is nothing pretentious about this
establishment, but the owner is evidently a man of wealth, and,
indeed, he has the bearing of a shrewd Yankee. He owris a
eamel, two donkeys, several calves and two cows, and two
young Nubian girls for wives, black as coal and greased, but
rather pleasant-faced. He has also two good guns — ap^oears to
have duplicates of nearly everything. Out of the cornstalk
shanty his wives bring some handsome rngs for us to sit on.

The Arab accompanies us on our walk, as a sort of host of
the country, and we are soon joined by others, black fellows ;
seme of them carry the long flint-lock musket, for whieh they

ETHIOPIA.

245

iQxe tho
ly pyra-
a wady,
id laud.
"Valley
e desert
that we
It is a
and see
SIS usual,

es are of
ire with
ae bank,
well for-
ib, who
nclosure
rhere he
out this
Ith, and,
3 owns a
sind two
sed, but
>x)ears to
iornstalk
it on.
I host of
fellowg ;
ieh th«y

seem to hay« no powder ; and all wear a knife in a aheatJi on
the left-arm ; but they are as peaceable friendly folk as you
would care to meet, and simple-minded. I show the Arab my
field-glass, an object new to his experience. He looks through
it, as I direct, and is an astonished man, making motions with
his hand, to indicate how the distant objects are drawn towards
him, laughing with a soft and childlike delight, and then lower-
ing the glass, looks at it, and cries,

" Bismillah ! Bismillah," an ejaculation of wonder, and also
intended to divert any misfortune from coming upon him on
account of his indulgence in this pleasure.

He soon gets the use of the glass and looks beyond the river
and all about, as if he were discovering objects unknown to him
before. The others all take a turn at it, and are equally
astonished and delighted. But when I cause them to look
through the large end at a dog near by, and they see him
remove far off in the desert, their astonishment is complete.
My comrade's watch interested them nearly as much, although
they knew its use ; they could never get enough of its ticking
and of looking at its works, and they concluded that the owner
of it must be a pasha.

The men at work dress in the slight manner of the ancient
Egyptians ; the women, however, wear garments covering them,
and not seldom hide the face at our approach. But the
material of their dress is not always of the best quality ; an old
piece of sacking makes a very good garment for a Nubian
woman Most of them wear some trinkets, beads, or bits of
silver or carnelian round the neck, and heavy bracelets of horn.
The boys have not yet come into their clothing, but the girls
wear the leathern belt and fringe adorned with shells.

The people have little, but they are not poor. It may be
that this cornstalk house of our friend is only his winter resi-
dence, while his shadoof is most active, and that he has another
establishment in town. There are too many sakiyas in opera-
tion for this region to be anything but prosperous, apparently.
They are going all night as we sail along, and the screaming is
weird enough in the stillness. I should think that a prisoner
was being tortured every eighth of a mile on the bank. We
are never out of hearing of their shrieks. But the cry is not
exactly that of pain; it is rather a song than a cry,-m^sWi,

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246

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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impish squeak in it, and a monotonous iteration of one idea,
like all the songs here. It always repeats one sentence, which
sounds like lakander logheh-n-e-ee-n — whatever it is in Arabic ;
and there is of course a story about it. The king, Alexander,
had concealed under his hair two horns. Unable to keep the
secret to himself he told it in confidence to the sakiya ; the
sakiya couldn't hold the news, but shrieked out, " Alexander
has two horns," and the other sakiyas got it ; and the scandal
went the length of the Nile, and never can be hushed.

The Arabs personify everything, and are as full of super-
stitions as the Scotch ; peoples who have nothing in common
except it may be that the extreme predestinationism of 1 he one
approaches the fatalism of the other — begetting in both a super-
stitious habit, which a similar cause produced in the Greeks.
From talking of the sakiya we wander into stories illustrative
of the credulity and superstition of the Egyptians. Charms
and incantations are relied on for expelling diseases and warding
oflf dangers. The snake-charmer is a person still in considerable
request in towns and cities. Here in Nubia there is no need
of his offices, for there are no snakes ; but in Lower Egypt,
where snakes are common, the mud-walls and dirt-floors of the
houses permit them to come in and be at home with the family.
Even in Cairo, where the houses are of brick, snakes ai-e much
feared, and the house that is reputed to have snakes in it cannot
be rented. It will stand vacant like an old mansion occupied
by a ghost in a Christian country. The snake-charmers take
advantage of this popular fear.

Once upon a time when Abd-el-Atti was absent from the
city, a snake-charmer came to his house, and told his sister
that he divined that there were snakes in the house. " My
sister," the story goes on, " never see any snake to house, but
she woman, and much 'fraid of snakes, and believe what him
say. She told the charmer to call out the snakes. He set to
work his mumble, his conjor — ( * exorcism ' ) yes, dat's it,
exorcism 'em, and bring out a snake. She paid him one dollar.

" Then the conjuror say * This the wife ; the husband still in
the house and make great trouble if he not got out.' "

"He wimt him one pound for get the huboand out, and my
lister gave it.

" Wh«n I come home I find my sister very sick, very sick

ETHIOPIA.

indeed, and I say what is it 1 She tell me the story that the
house was full of snakes and she had a man call them out, but
the fright make her a long time ill.

" I said, you have done very well to get the snakes out, what
could we do with a house full of the nasty things ] And I
said, I must get them out of another house I have — house 1 let
him since to machinery.

" Machinery ? For what kind of machinery ! Steam-
engines 1 "

" No, misheenary — have a school in it."

" Oh, missionary."

" Yes, let 'em have it for 'bout three hundred francs less than
I get before. I think the school good for Cairo. I send for
the snake-charmer, and I say I have 'nother house I think has
snakes in it, and I ask him to divine and see. He comes back
and says, my house is full of snakes, but he can charm them
out. I say, good, I will pay you well. We appointed early
neKt morning for the operation, and I agreed to meet the
charmer at my house. I take with mo big black fellow I have
in the house, strong like a bull. When we get there I find the
charmer there in front of the house and ready to begin. But I
propose that we go in the house, it might make disturbance to
the neighborhood to call so many f erpents out into the street.
We go in and I say, tell me the room of the most snakes. The
charmer say, and as soon as we go in there, I make him sign the
black fellow and he throw the charmer on the ground, and we
tie him with a rope. We find in his bosom thirteen snakes
and scorpions. I tell him I had no idea there were so many
snakes in my house. Then I had the fellow before the kadi ;
he had to pay back all the money he got from my sister and
went to prison. But," added Abd-el-Atti, " the doctor d'd not
pay back the money for my sister's illness."

Alexandria was the scene of another snake story. The owner
of a house there had for tenants an Italian and his wife, whose
lease had expired, but who would not vacate the premises. He
therefore hired a snake-charmer to go to the house one day
when the family were out, and leave snakes in two of the rooms.
When the lady returned and found a snake in one room she
fled into another, but there another serpent raised his head and
hissed at her. She was dreadfully frightened, and sent for the

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MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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ill

eharmer, and had the snaked called out but she declare^u that
she wouldn't occupy such a house another minute. And the
family moved out that day of their own accord. A novel writ
of ejectment.

In the morning we touched bottom as to cold weather, the
thermometer at sunrise going down to 47° ; it did, indeed, as
we heard afteinvards, go below 40° at Wady Haifa the next
morning ; but the days were sure to be warm enough. The
morning is perfectly calm, and the depth of the blueness of the
sky, especially as seen over the yellow desert sand and the
blackened surface of the sandstone hills, is extraordinary. An
artist's representation of this color would be certain to be called
an exaggeration. The skies of Ijower Egypt are absolutely
pale in comparison.

Since we have been in the tropics, the quality of the sky has
been the same day and night — sometimes a turquoise blue, such
as on rare days we get in America through a break in the
clouds, but exquisitely delicate for all its depth. We passed
the Tropic of Cancer in the night, somewhere about Dendodr,'*
and did not see it. I did not know, till afterwards, that there
had been any trouble about it. But it seems that it has been
moved from Assouan, where fcJtrabo put it and some modern
atlases still place it, southward, to a point just below the ruins
of the temple of Dendo(5r, where Osiris and Isis were worshipped.
Probably the temple, which is thought to be of the time of
Augustus and consequently is little respected by an antiquarian,
was not built with any reference to the Tropic of Cancer ; but
the point of the turning of the sun might well have been
marked by a temple to the mysterious deity who personified the
sun and who was slain and rose again.

Our walk on shore to-day reminds us of a rugged path in
Switzerland. Before we come to Kalkeh (which is of no
account, except that it is in the great bend below Korosko) the
hills of sandstone draw close to the east bank, in some places in
sheer precipices, in others leaving a strip of sloping sand.
Along the cliff is a narrow donkey-path, which travel for
thousands of years has worn deep ; and we ascend along it high^'
above the river. Wherever at the foot of the precipices there
was a chance to grow a handful of beans or a hill of coi*n, we
found the ground occupied. In one of these lonely recesses w» ^
Blade the acquaintance of an Arab family,

ETHIOPIA.

249

Walking rapidly, I saw something in the path, and held my
foot just in time to avoid atepping upon a naked brown baby,
rather black than brown, as a baby might be who spent hi« time
outdoors in the sun without any umbrella.

" By Jorge ! a nice plumpee little chile," cried Abd-el-Atti,
who is fond of children, and picks up and shoulders the boy,
who shows no signs of fear and likes the ride.

We come soon upon his parents. The man was sitting on a
rock smoking a piije. The woman, dry and withered, was
picking some green leaves and blossoms, of which she would
presently make a sort of purfi€, that appears to be a great part
of the food of these peoplff. They had three children. Their
farm was a small piece of the sloping bank, and was in appear-
ance exactly like a section of sandy railroad embankment
grown to weeds. They had a few beans and somo sqiiash or
pumpkin vines, and there were remains of a few hills of doora
which had been harvested.

While the dragoman talked with the family, I climbed up to
their dwelling, in a ravine in the rocks. The house was of the
simplest architecture — a circular stone enclosure, so loosely laid
up that you could anywhere put your hand through it. Over
a segment of this were laid some cornstalks, and under these the
piece of matting was spread for the bed. That matting was the
only furniture of the house. All their clothes the family had
on them, and those were none too many — they didn't hold out
to the boy. And the mercury goes down to 47" these mornings !
Before the opening of this shelter was a place for a fire against
the rocks, and a saucepan, water-jar, and some broken bottles.
The only attraction about this is its simplicity. Probably this
is the countrv-place of the proprietor, T»'here he retires for
" shange of air" during the season when his crops arc maturing,
and then moves into town under the palm-trees during the heat
of summer.

Talking about MoLammed (we are still walking by the shore)
I found that Abd-el-Atti had never heard the legend of the
miraculous suspension of the Prophet's coffin between heaven
and eai'th ; no Moslem ever believed any such thing ; no
Moslem ever heard of it.

"Then there Isn't any tradition or notion of that sort among
Moslems 1"

"No, sir. Who said it r

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250

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

«ai

English literature— by Mr.

'Oh, it's often alluded to
Ijle for one, I think."

" What for him say that 1 I tink he must put something in
his book to make it sell. How could it 1 Every year since
Mohammed died, pilgrims been make to his grave, where he
buried in the ground ; shawl every year carried to cover it ;
always buried in that place. No Moslem think that."

" Once a good man, a welee of Fez, a friend of the Prophet,
was visited by a vision and by the spirit of the Prophet, and
he was gecited (excited) to go to Mecca and see him. When
he was come near in the way, a messenger from the Prophet
came to the welee, and told him not to come any nearer ; that
he should die and be buried in the spot where he then was.
And it was so. His tomb you see it there now before you come
to Mecca.

" When Mohammed was asked the reason why he would not
permit the welee to come to his tomb to see him, he said that
t.he welee was a great friend of his, and if he came to his tomb,
he should feel bound to rise and see him ; and he ought not to
do that, for the time of the world was not yet fully come ; if he
rose from his tomb, it would be finish, the world would be at an
end. Therefore he was 'bliged to refuse his friend.

" Nobody doubt he buried in the ground. But Ali, different.
Ali, the son-in-law of Mohammed (married his daughter
Fat'meh, his sons Has?- r andHoseyn,) died in Medineh. When
he died he ordered th«i- he should be put in a coffin, and said
that in the morning there would come from the desert a man
with a dromedary ; that his coffin should be bound upon the
back of the dromedary, and let go. In the morning, as was
foretold, the man appeared, leading a dromedary ; his head was
veiled except his eyes. The coffin was bound upon the back of
the beast, and the three went away into the desert ; and no
man ever saw either of them more, or knows, to this day, where
Ali is buried. Whether it was a man or an angel with the
dromedary, God knows !"

Getting round the great bend at Korosko and Amada is the
most vexatious and difficult part of the Nile navigation. The
distance is only about eight miles, but the river takes a freak
here to run south-south east, and as the wind here is usually
north-north west, the boat has both wind and curre&t against

lllli?

ETHIOPIA.

asi

Mr.

it. But this is not all ; it is impossibld to track on the ^est
bank on account of the shallows and sandbars, ^nd the channel
on the east side is beset with dangerous rocks. We thought
ourselves fortunate in making theso eight miles in two days, and
one of them was a very exciting day. The danger was in
stranding the dahabeeh on the rocks, and being compelled to
leave her ; and our big boat was handled with great difficulty.

Traders and travellers going to the Upper Nile leave the river
at Korosko. Here begins the direct desert route — as utterly
waste, barren and fatiguing as any in Africa — to Aboo Hamed,
Sennaar and Kartoom. Tlie town lies between a fringe of palms
on the river, and backed by high and savage desert mountains.
As we pass we see on the high bank piles of merchandise and
the white tents of the caravans.

This is still the region of slavery. Most of the Arabs, poor
as they api^ear, own one or two slaves, got from Sennaar or
Darfoor — though called generally Nubians. We came across a
Sennaar girl to-day of perhaps ten years of age, hoeing alone in
the field. The poor creature, whose ideas were as scant as her
clothing, had only a sort of animal intelligence ; she could speak
a little Arabic, however (much more than we could — speak-
ing of intelligence !) and said she did not dare come with us for
fear her mistress would beat her. The slave trade is, how-
ever, greatly curtailed by the expeditions of the Khedive. The
bright Abyssinian boy, Ahmed, whom we have on board, was
brought from his home across the Red Sea by way of Mecca.
^ This is one of the ways by which a few slaves still sift into
^ Cairo.

We are working along in sight of Korosko all day. Just
above it, on some rocks in the channel, lies a handsome
^^ dahabeeh belonging to a party of English gentlemen, which
*-*^ went on a week ago; touched upon concealed rocks in the
® evening as the crew were tracking, was swung further on by
the current, and now lies high and almost dry, the Nile falling
daily, in a position where she must wait for the rise next sum-
mer. The boat is entirely uninjured, and no doubt might
have been got off the first day if there had only been mechanical
skill in the crew. The governor at Derr sent down one hun-
dred and fifty men, who hauled and heaved at it two or three
days, with no effect. Half a doaen Yankees, with a couple of

352

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

■h

jack-serftws, and probably with only logs for rollers, would have
set it afloat. The disaster is exceedingly annoying to the gen-
tlemen, who have, however, procured a smaller boat from Wady
Haifa in which to continue their voyage. We are several hours
in getting past these two boats, and accomplish it not without a
tangling of rigging, scraping off of paint, smashing of deck rails,
and the expenditure of a whole dictionary of Arabic. Our
Arabs never see but one thing at a time. If they are getting
the bow free, the stay-ropes and stem must take care of them-
selves. If, by simple heedlessness, we are letting the yard of
another boat rip into our rigging, God wills it. While we are
in this confusion and excitement, the dahabeeh of Gkneral
McCiellan and half a dozen in company, sweep down past us,
going with wind and current.

It is a bright and delicious Sunday morning that we are still
tracking above Korosko. To-day is the day the pilgrims to
Mecca spend upon the mountain of Arafat. To-morrow they
sacrifice ; our crew will celebrate it by killing a sheep and eat-
ing it — and it is difficult to see where the sacrifice comes in for
them. The Moslems along this shore lost their reckoning,
mistook the day, and sacrificed yesterday.

This is net the only thing, however, that keeps this place in
our memory. We saw here a pretty woman. Considering her
dress, hair, the manner in which she had been brought up, and
her looks, a tolerably pretty woman ; a raving beauty in com-
parison with her comrades. She has a slight cast in one eye,
that only shows for a moment occasionally, and then disap-
pears. If these feeble tributary lines ever meet that eye, I
beg her to know that, by reason of her slight visual defect, she
is like a revolving light, all the more brilliant when she flashes
out.

We lost time this morning, were whirled about in eddies and
drifted on sand!)ars, owing to contradictory opinions among our
navigators, none of whom seem to have the least sconce. They
generally agree, however, not to do anything that the pilot
orders. Our pilot ftota Philas to Wady Haifa and back, is a
Baribra, aiid one of the reuses of the Cataract, a fellow verjr
tall, and thin 9s a hop-poio, with a withered face and a higli
forehead. His garments, a white cotton nightgown, without
sleeves, a brown overgown with flowing sleeves, both reaching

ETHIOPIA.

253

to the ankles, and a wlute turbau. He is bai'efooted and bare
legged, and, in his many excui*sions into the river to explore
sandbars, I have noticed a hole where he has stuck his knee
through his nightg&wii. His stature and his whole bearing
have in them something, I know not what, of the theatrical air
of the Orient.

He had a quarrel to-day with the crew, for the reason men-
tioned above, in which he was no doubt quit'3 right, a quarrel
conducted as usual with an extraordinary expense of wr ^Jh and
vituperation. In his inflamed remarks, he at length out

doubts about the mother of one of the crew, and pr a>' got
something back that enraged him still more. While the VA/«ngle
went on, the crew had gathered about their mess-dish on the
forward deck, squatting in a circle round it, and dipping out
great mouthfuls of the puree with the right hand. The piloi
paced the upper deck, and his voice, which is like that of many
waters, was lifted up in louder and louder lamentations, as the
other party grew more quiet and were occupied with their din-
ner — throwing him a loose taunt now and then, followed by a
chorus of laughter. He strode back $nd forth, swinging his
armn, ar*d decUring that he would leave the boat, that he would
not stay where he was so treated, that he would cast himself
into the river.

"When you do, you'd better leave your clothes behind,"
suggested Abd-el-Atti.

Upon this cruel sarcasm he was unable to contain himself
longer. He strode up and down, raised high his voice, and
tore his hair and rent his garments — the supreme act of Oriental
desperation. I had often read of this performance, both in the
Scriptures and in other Oriental writings, but I had never seen
it before. The manner in which he tore his hair and rent his
garments was as follows, to wit : — He almost entirely unrolled
his turban, doing it with an air of perfect recklessness ; and
then he cai-efully wound it again round his smoothly-shaven
head. That stood for teaiing his hair. He then swung his
long arms aloft, lifted up his long garment above his head, and,
with desperate force, appeared to be about to rend it in twain.
But he never started a seam nor broke a thread. The night-
gown wouldn't have stood much nonsense.

In the midst of his most passionate outburst, h« went forward

11'

ir;

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' !

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«54

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

and filled his pipe, and then returned to his tearing and rend-
ing and bis lamentations. The picture of a strong man in
grief is always touching.

The country along here is very pretty, the curved shore for
miles being a continual palm-grove, and having a considerable
strip of soil which the sakiya irrigation makes very productive.
Beyond this rise mountains of rocks in ledges ; and when we
climb them we see only a waste desert of rock strewn with
loose shale, and, further inland, black hills of sandstone, which
thickly cover the country all the way to the Red Sea.

Under the ledges are the habitations of the people, square
enclosures of stone sjid clay of considerable size, with interior
courts and kennels. One of them — the only sign of luxury we
have seen in Nubia, had a porch in front of it covered with palm
boughs. The men are well-mad3 and rather prepossessing in
appearance, and some of them well-dressed — they had no doubt
made the voyage to Cairo ; the women are hideous without
exception. It is no pleasure to speak thus continually of
woman ; and I am sometimes tempted to say that I see here
the brown and bewitching maids, with the eyes of the gazelle
and the form of the houri, which gladden the sight of more
fortunate voyagers through thin idle land ; but when I think of
the heavy amount of misrepresentation that would be necessary
to give any one of these creatures a reputation for good looks
abroad, I shrink from the undertaking.

They are decently covered with black cotton mantles, which; 3
they make a show of drawing over the face ; but they are per-
haps wild rather than modest, and have a sort of animal
shyness. Their heads are sights to behold. The hair is all,
braided in strings, long at the sides and cut oflf in front, afterf,
the style adopted now-»^«-day3 for children (and v/^omen) inrj
civilised countries, and copied from the young princes, prisoners
in the Tower. Each round strand of hair has a dab of clay on;,
the end of it. The whole is drenched with castor-oil, and when^
the sun shines on it, it is as pleasant to one sense as to another.
They have flattish noses, high cheek-bones, and always splendid
teeth ; and they all, young girls as well as old women, hold
tobacco in their under lip, and squirt out the juice wi<-h placid
and scientific accuracy. They wear two or three strings of
trumpery beads and necklaces, bracelets of horn and of greasy

ETHIOPIA.

•«

loather, and occasionally a finger-ring or two. Nose-rings they
wear if they have them ; if not, they keep the bore open for
one by inserting a kernel of doora.

In going back to the boat we met a party of twenty or
thirty of these attractive creatures, who were returning from
burying a boy of the village. They came striding over the
sand, chattering in shrill and savage tones. Grief was not so
weighty on them that they forgot to demand backsheesh, and
(unrestrained by the men in the town) their clamor for it was
like the cawing of crows ; and their noise, when they received
little from us, was worse. The tender and loving woman,
stricken in grief by death, is, in these regions, when denied
backsheesh, an enraged, squawking bird of prey. They left us '
with scorn in their eyes and abuse on their tongues.

At a place below Korosko we saw a singular custom, in
which the women appeared to better advantage. A whole
troop of women, thirty or forty of them, accompanied by
childrer^ came in a rambling procession down to the Nile, and
brought a baby just forty days old. We thought at first that
they were about to dip the infant into Father Nile, as an in-
troduction to the fountain of all the blessings of Egypt. Instead
of this, however, they sat dowri on the bank, took kohl and
daubed it in the little fellowV, eyes. They perform this cere-
mony by the Nile when the boy is forty days old, and they do
it that he may nave a fortunate life. Kohl seems to enlarge
the pupil, and doubtless it is intended to open the boy's eyes
early.

At on*, of the little settlements to-day the men were very
hospitable, and brought us out plates (straw) of sweet dried
dates. Those that we did not eat, the sailor with us stuffed
into his pocket ; our sailors never let a chance of provender
lip, and would, so far as capacity "to live on the country" goes,
make good soldiers. Tae Nubian dates are called the best in
Egypt. They are longer than the dates of the Delta, but hard
and quite dry. They take the place of coffee here in the com-
plimentary hospitality. Whenever a native invites you to take
** coffee," and you accept, he will bring you a plate of dates and
probably a plate of popped doora, like our popped corn. Coffee
seems not to be in use here ; even the governors entertain ug
with dates «nd popped com.

1^'

256

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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We are working up the river slowly euough to make the
acquaintance of every man, woman, and child on the banks ;
and a precious lot of acquaintances we shall have. I have no
desire to force them upon the public, but it is only by these
details that I can hope to give you any idea of the Nubian life.

We stop at night. The moon and starlight is something
superb. From the high bank under which we are moored, the
broad river, the desert opposite, and the mountains, appear in
a remote African calm — a calm only broken by the shriek of
the sakiyas which pierce the air above and below us.

In the sakiya near us, covered with netting to keep off the
north wind, is a little boy, patient and black, seated on the
pole of the wheel, urging the lean cattle round and round.
The little chap is alone and at some distance from the village,
and this must be for him lonesome work. The moonlight,
through the chinks of the palm-leaf, touches tenderly his
pathetic figure, when we look in at the opening, and his small
voice utters the one word of Egypt — " backsheesh."

Attracted by a light — a rare thing in a habitation here — we
walk ':ver to the village. At the end of the high enclosure of
a dwelling there is a blaze of fire, which is fed by doora-stalks,
and about it squat fiv0 women, chattering ; the fire lights up
their black faces and hair shining with the castor-oil. Four of
them are young ; and one is old and skinny, and with only a
piece of sacking for all clothing. Their husbands are away in
Cairo, or up the river with a trading dahabeeh (so they tell
our guide) ; and these poor creatures are left here (it may be
for years, it may be for ever) to dig their own living out of the
ground. It is quite the fashion husbands have in this country ;
but the women are attached to their homes ; they have no
desire to go elsewhere. A.nd I have no doubt that in Cairo
they would pine for the free and simple life of Nubia.

These women all want backsheesh, and no doubt will quarrel
over the division of the few piastres they have from us. Being
such women as I have described, and using tobacco as has been
sufficiently described also, crouching about these embers, this
gi'oup composes as barbaric a picture as one can anywhere see.
I need not have gone so far to see such a miserable group ; I
could have found one as wretched in Pigville (every city has its
Pigville). Yes, but this is characteristic of the country.

ETHIOPIA.

257

These people ar6 as good as anybody here. (We have been
careful to associate only with the tiret families.) These women
have necklaces and bracelets, and rings in their ears, just like
any woman, and rings in the hair, twisted in with the clay and
castor-oil. And in Pigville one would not have the range of
savage rocks, which tower above these huts, whence the jackals,
wolves, and gazelles come down to the river, nor the row of
palms, nor the Nile, and the sands beyond, yellow in the moon-
light.

CHAPTER XXII.

MfR IK THE TROPICS. — WADY HALFA.

:
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■

^,URS is the crew to witch the world with noble f*eaman-
filiip. It is like a first-class orchestra, in which all the
performers are "artists. Oui*s are aU captains. The rois
is merely an elder brother. The pilot is not heeded at all.
With so many intentions on board, it is an hourly miracle that
we get on at all.

We are approaching the capital of Nubia, trying to get round
a sharp bend in the river, with wind adverse, current rapid,
sandbars on all sides. Most of the crew are in the water ahead,
trying to haul us roimd the point of a sand-spit on which the
stream foams, and then swirls in an eddy below. I can see
now the Pilot, the long Pilot, who has gone in to feel about for
deep water, in his white nightgown, his shaven head, denuded
of its turban, shining-in the sun, standing in two feet of water,
throwing his arms wildly above his heud, screaming entreaties,
warnings, commands, imprecations upon the sailors in the river
and the commanders on the boat. I can see the crow, waist
deep, slacking the rope which they have out ahead, stopping to
discuss the situation. I can see the sedate reis on the bow
arguing with the raving pilot, the steei-sman, with his eternal
smile, calmly regarding the peril, and the boat swinging help.
Idssly about and going upon the shoals. " Stupids," mutters
Abd-el-Atti, who is telling his beads rapidly, as he always does
in exciting situations.

When at length ^^e pass the point, we catch the breeze so
suddenly and go away with it, that there is no time for the men
to get on board, and they are obliged to scamper back over the
Wttd-«pitft to the shore and make a race of it to meet \\% at

tIFfi IN tHE TROPICS.

L',r.x*r.-*T.-;:

259

t)er\\ We call we them running in file, dodging along under
the palms by the shore, stopping to grab occasionallj a squash
or a handful of beans for the pot.

The capital 01 Nubia is the New York of this region, not so
large, nor so well laid out, nor ^0 handsomely built, but the
centre of fashion and the residence of the ton. The governor
lives in a whitewashed house, and there is a sycamore here
eight hundred years old, which is, I suppose, older than the
8tuyvesant Pear in New York. The liouses are not perched
up in the air like tenement buildings for the poor, but aristo-
cratically keep to the ground in one-storj' rooms ; and they are
beautifully moulded of a tough clay. The whole town lies
under a palm-grove. The elegance of the capital, however, is
not in its buildings, but in its women ; the ladies wha come to
the river to fill their jars are arrayed in the height of the mode.
Their hair is twisted and clayed and castor-oiled, but, besides
this and other garments, they wear an outer robe of black
which sweeps the ground for a yard behind, and gives them the
grav^e and dignity that court-robes always give. You will
scarcely see longer skirts on Broadway or in a Paris salon. I
have, myself, no doubt that the Broadway fashions came from
DeiT, all except the chignons. Here the ladies wear their own
hair.

Making no landing in this town so dangerous to one suscepti-
ble to the charms of fashion, we went on, and stopped at night
near Ibreen, a lofty precipice, or range of precipices, the
southern hill crowned with ruins and fortifications which were
last occupied by the Memlooks, half a century and more ago.
The night blazed with beauty ; the broad river was a smooth
mirror, in which the mountains and the scintillating hosts of
heaven were reflected. And we saw a phenomenon which I
have never seen elsewhere. Not only were the rocky ledges
reproduced in a perfect definition of outline, but even in the
varieties of shade, in black and reddish-brown color.

Perhaps it needs the affidavits of all the party to the more
surprising fact, that we were all on deck next mcMTiing before
five o'clock, to see the Southern Cross. The moon had set,
and these famous stars of the southern sky flashed color and
brilliancy Kke enormous diamonds. " Other worlds than ours " 1
I should think so ! All these myriads of burning orbs only to

d6o

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

■ If-

i: i

illuminate our dahabeeh and a handful of Nubians, who are
asleep ! The Southern Cross lay just above the horizon and
not far from other stars of the first quality. There are, I
believe, only three stars of the fii*st magnitude and one of the
second, in this constellation, and they form, in fact, not a cross
but an irregular quadiilateral. It needs a vivid imagination
and the aid of small stars to get even a semblance of a cross out
of it. But if you add to it, as we did, for the foot of the cross,
a brilliant in a neighboring constellation, you have a noble
cross.

This constellation is not so fine as Orion, and for all we saw,
we would not exchange our northern sky for the southern ; but
this morning we had a rare combination. The Morning Star
was blazing in the east ; and the Great Bear (who has been
nightly sinking lower and lower, until he dips below the horizon)
having climbed high up above the Pole in the night, filled the
northern sky with light. In this lucid atmosphere the whole
heavens from north to south seemed to be crowded with stars
of the first size.

During the morning we walked on the west bank through a
castor-oil plantation ; many of the plants were good-sized trees,
with boles two and a half to three inches through, and apparently
twenty-five feet high. They were growing in the yellow sand
which had been irrigated by sakiyas, but was then dry, and some
of the plants were wilting. We picked up the ripe seeds and
broke off some of th'e fat branches ; and there was not water
erough in the Nile to wash away the odor afterwards.

Walking back over the great sand-plain towards the range
of desert mountains, we came to an artificial mound — an ash-
heap, in fact — fifty or sixty feet high. At its base is a
habitation of several compartments, formed by sticking the
stalks of castor-oil plants into the ground, with a roof of the
same. Here we found several women with very neat dabs of
clay on the ends of their hair-twists, and a profusion of neck-
laces, rings in the hair and other ornaments — among them,
scraps of gold. The women were hospitable, rather modest
than shy, and set before us plates of di'ied dates ; and no one
said ** backsheesh." A better class of people than those below,
and more purely Nubian.

It would perhaps pay to dig open this mound, Near it Ar«

LIFE IN THE TROPICS.

a6i

three small oases, watered by sakiyas, which ,^raw from wells
that are not more than twenty feet deep. The water is clear as
crystal but not cool. These are ancient Egyptian wells, which
have been re-opened within a few years ; and the ash-mound is
no doubt the debris of a village and an old Egyptian settlement.

At night we are a dozen miles from Aboo Simbel (Ipsamboul),
the wind — which usually in the winter blows with great and
steady force from the north in this part of the river — having
taken a fancy to let us see the country.

A morning walk takes us over a rocky desert ; the broken
shale is distributed as evenly over the sand as if the whole had
once been under water, and the shale were a dried mud, cracked
in the sun. The miserable dwellings of the natives are under
the ledges back of the strip of arable land. The women are shy
and wild as hawks, but in the mode; they wear a profusion of
glass beads and trail their robes in the dust.

It is near this village that we have an opportunity to execute
justice. As the crew were tracking, and lifting the rope over
a sakiya, the hindmost sailor saw a sheath-knife on the bank,
and thrust it into his pocket as he walked on. In five minutes
the owner of the knife discovered the robbery, and came to the
boat to complain. The sailor denied having the knife, but
upon threat of a flogging gave it up. The incident, however,
aroused the town, men and women came forth discussing it in a
high key, and some foolish fellows threatened to stone our boat.
Abd-el-Atti replied that he would stop and give them a chance
to do it. Thereupon they apologized ; and, as there was no
wind, the dragoman asked leave to stop and do justice.

A court was organized on shore. Abd-el-Atti sat down on a
lump of eart/h, grasping a marline-spike, the crew squatted in a
circle in the high beans, and the culprit was arraigned. The
owner testified to his knife, a woman swore she saw the sailor
take it. Abd-el-Atti pronounced sentence, and rose to execute
it wi^ his stake. The thief was thrown upon the ground and
held by two sailors. Abd-el-Atti, resolute and solemn as an
executioner, raised the club and brought it down with a tremen-
dous whack-<-not however upon the back of the victim, he had
at that instant squirmed out of the way. This conduct greatly
enraged the minister of justice, who thereupon came at his
object with fury, and would no doubt have hit him, if %h9

|S-^^

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36a

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

orimiixal bad not got up and run, screaming, with the sailors
and Ab<i-el-Atti after him. The ground was rough, the legs of
Abd-el-Atti are not long and hia wind is short. The fellow was
caught, and escaped again and again, but the puniahmout was
a mere scrimmage ; whenever Abd-el-Atti, in the confusion,
could get a chance to strike he did so, but generally hit the
ground, sometimes the fellow's gown and p(3rhaps once or twice
the man inside, but never to his injury. He roared all the
while that he was no thief, and seemed a good deal mc te hurt
by the charge that he was, than by the stick. The beating was,
in short, only a farce laughable from beginning to end, and not
a bad sample of Egyptian justice. And it satisfied everybody.

Having put ourselves thus on friendly relations with this
village, one of the inhabitants brought down to the boat a letter
for the dragoman to interpret. It had been received two weeks
before from Alexandria, but no one had been able to read it
until our boat stopped here. Fortunately we had the above
little difficulty here. Th*^ intents of the letter gave the village
employment for a month. It brought news of the death of two
inhabitants of the place, who were living as servants in Alexan-
dria, one of them a man eighty years old and his son aged sixty.

I never saw gi-ief spread so fast and so suddenly as it did
with the uncorking of this vial of bad news. Instantly a
lamentation and wild mourning began in all the settlement. It
wasn't ten minutes before the village was buried in grief. And,
in an incredible short space of time, the news hid spread up
and down the river, and the grief-stricken began to arrive from
other places. Where they came from, I have no idea ; it did
not seem that we had passed so many women in a week as we
saw now. They poured in from all along the shore, long strings
of them, striding over the sand, throwing up their garments,
casting dust on their heads (and all of it stuck), howling, flock-
ing like wild geese to a rendezvous, and filling the air with their
clang. They were arriving for an hour or two.

The men took no part in this active demonstration. They
were seated gravely before the house in which the bereaved
relatives gathered ; and there I found Abd-el-Atti, seated also,
and holding forth upon the inevitable coming of death, and
saying that there was nothing to be regi-etted in this case, for
the . time of these men had comt. If it hadn't €om«, they
wonldn't havf died. Not sol

LIFE I\ THE TROriCH.

96$

The v\ omeu crowded into the enclosure and began muuruiag
in a vigorous manner. The chief oneB grouping themselvts in
an irregular ring, cried aloud : " that he had died here ! "
" O that I had se^n his face when he died ; " rep*^ atiug these
limentationa over and over again, throwing up the arms and
then the legs in a kind of barbaric dance as they lamented,
and uttering long and nlirill uluiations at the end of each
sentence.

To-day they kill a calf and feast, and to-morrow the lamen-
tations and the African dance will go on, and continue for a
week. These people are all feeling. It is a heathen and not a
Moslem custom however ; and whether it is of negro origin or
of ancient Egyptian I do not know, but i)robabIy the latter.
The ancient Egyptian women are depicted in the tombs mourn-
ing in this manner ; and no doubt the Jews also so bewailed,
when they "lifted up their voices" and cast dust on th%ir
heads, as wc saw these Nubians do. It is an unseltish pleasure
to an Eastern woman to *' lift up the voice." The heavy pai-t
of the mourning comes ui)on the women, who appear to enjoy it.
It is their chief occupation, after the carrying of water and the
grinding of doora, and pi-olM))ly was so with the old race ;
these people certainly keep the ancient customs ; they dresn
the hair, for one thiiigj very much as the Egyptians did, even
to the castor-oil.

At this village, as in others in Nubia, the old women are the
corn-grinders. These wisted skeletons sit on the ground before
a stone with a hollow in it ; iu this they bruise the d. ora with
H smaller stone ; the flour is tfien moistened and rubbed to a
paste. The girls and younger women, a great pai-t of the time,
are idling about in their finery. But, then, they have the
babies and the water to bring ; and it must be owned that some
of them work in the field — grubbing grass and stuff for
** greens " and for fuel, more than the men. The men do the
heavy work of irrigation.

But we cannot stay to mourn with those who mourn a week
in this style ; and in the evening, when a strong breeze springa
up, we spread our sail and go, in the *' daylight of the moon,"
flying up the river, by black and weird shores ; and before mid-
night pass lonesome Aboo Simbel, whose colossi sit in the
moonlight with the impassive mien they have held for so many
age«.

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264

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

^^ In the morning, with an eanj wind, we are on the last stage
of our journey. We are almost at the limit of dahabeeh navi-
gation. The country is less intorosting tlian it was below.
The river is very broad, and we look far over the desert on
each side. The strip of cultivated soil ia narrow and now and
again disappears altogether. To the east are seen, since we
passed Aboo Sirabel, the pyram' I hills, some with truncated
tops, scattered without plan over the desert. It requires no
stretch of fancy to think that these mathematically built hills
are pyramids erected by races anterior to Meiies, and that all
this waste that they dot is a necropolis of that forgotten
people.

The sailors celebrate the finishing of the journey by a cere-
mony of state and dignity. The chief actor is Furrag, the wit
of the crew. Suddenly he appean iU9 the Governor of Wady
Hftlfa, with horns on his head, face painted, a long beard, hair
sprinkled with flour, and dressed in shaggy sheepskin. He has
come on board to collect his taxes. He opens his court, with
the sailors about him, holding a long marline-spike which he
pretends to smoke as a chibook. His imitation of the town
dignitaries along the river is very comical, and his remarks are
greeted with roars of laughter. One of the crew acta as his
bailiff and summons all the officers and servants of the boat
before him, who are thrown down upon the deck and basti-
nadoed, and released on payment of backsheesh. The travellers
also have to go before- the court and pay a fine for passing
through the Governor's country. • The Governor is treated with
great deference till the end of the farce, when one of his atten-
dants sets fire to his beard, and another puts him out with a
bucket of water.

The end of our journey is very much like the end of every-
thing else — there is very little in it. When wo follow any-
thing to its utmost, we are certain to be disappointed — simply
because it is the nature of things to taper down to a point. I
suspect it must always be so with the traveller, and that the
farther he penetrates into any semi-savage continent, the
meaner and ruder will he find the conditions of life. When
we come to the end, ought we not to expect the end?

We have come a thousand miles not surely to see Wady
Haifa but to see the thousand miles. And yet Wady Haifa,

LIPI IN THE TROPICS.

afiS

figuring M it does on the map, the gate of the great Second Cata.
nict,the head of navigation, the dustinntion of so many eap;er tra-
vellers, a point of arrival and departure of caravans, might be a
little less insignificant than it is. There is the thick growth of
palm-trees under which the town lies, and beyond it, several
miles, on the opposite west bank, is the cliff of Aboosir, which
looks down upon the cataract; but for this noble landmark,
this dominating rock, the traveller could not feel that he had
arrived anywhere, and would be so weakened by the shock of
arrivin<^ nowhere at the end of so long a journey (aa a man is
by striking a blow in the air) that he would scarcely hav«
strength to turn back.

At the time of our arrival, however, Wady Haifa, has some
extra life. An expedition of the government is about to start
for Darfoor. When we moor at the east bank, we see on the
west bank the white tents of a military encampment sot in
right lines on the yellow sand ; near them the government
storehouse and telegraph-office, and in front a mounted howitzer
and a Gatlin gun. No contrast could be stronger. Hero ia
Wady Halfeh, in the doze of an African town, a collection of
mud-huts under the trees, listless, apathetic, sitting at the door
of a vast region, without either purpose or ambition. There,
yonder, is a piece of life out of our restless age. There are the
tents, the guns, the instruments, the soldiers and porvants of a
new order of things for Africa. We hear the trumpet call to
drill. The flag which is planted in the sand in front of the
commander's tent is to be borne to the equator.

But this is not a military expedition. It is a corps of scien-
tific observation, simply. Since the Sultan of Darfoor is slain
and the Khedive's troops have occupied his capital, and for-
mally attached that empire to Egypt, it is necesaaiy to know
something of its extent, resources, and people, concerning all of
which we have only the uncertain reports of traders. It is
thought by some that the annexation of Darfoor adds five
millions to the population of the Khedive's growing empire. In
order that he may know what he has conquered, he has sent
out exploring expeditions, of which this is one. It is under
command of Purdy Bey assisted by Lieutenant-Colonel Mason,
two young American officers of the Khedive, who fought on
opposite sides in our civil war. They are provided with instru-

"^^

266

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

ments for niakiD«; all sorts of obaervatloiis, und are to report
upon the people and the physical character and capacity of the
country. They expect to be absent three years, and after sur-
veying Darfoor, will strike southward still, and perhaps cciii-
tribute something to the solution of the Nile problem. For
escort they have a hundred soldiera only, but a large train of
uamel:i and at^^endants. In its purpose it is an expedition that
any civilized nJer might be honored for setting on foo^,. It is
a brave overture of civilization to barbarism. The nations are
daily drawing nearer together. As we sit in the telegraph -
office here, messages are flashed from Cairo to Kartoom.

' I

:! t!

iff

^ammrngmmm

For

CHAPTER XXIIL

APPROACHING THE SECOND CATARACT.

^HERE are two ways of going to see the Second Cataract
and the clifl^ Aboosir, which is about six miles above
Wady Hal^ one is by small boat, the other by drome-
dary over the deseit. We chose the latter, and the American
officers gave us a mount and their company also. Their camp
presented a lively scene when we crossed over to it in the
morning. They had by requisition pressed into their service
three or four hundred camels, and were trying to select out of
the let half a dozen fit to ride. The camels were, in fact,
mostly burden camels, and not trained to the riding-saddle ;
besides, half of them were poor, miser-ible rucks of bones, half-
starved to death ; for the Arabs, whose business it had been to
feed them, had stolen the ijrovernment supplies. An expedition
which started south two weeks ago lost more than r^ hundred
ramels frorr starvation, before it reached Semdeh, thirty-five
miles up the river. They had become so weak that they wilted
and died on the first hard march. For his size and knotty
appearance the camel is the most disappointing of beasts. He
is a sheep as to endurance. As to temper, he is vindictive.

Authorities diflfer in regaixl to the distinction between the
camel and the dromedary. Some say that there are no camels
in Egypt, that they are all dromedaries, having one hump; and
that the true camel is the Bactrian, which has two humps. It
is customary here, however, to call those camels which art
beasts of burden, and those dromedaries which are trained to
ride ; ihe distinction being that between the cart-horse and th«
saddle-horae.

The camel-drivers, who are as wild Ar y-bs as you will moot

%6S

UUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

anjwiiere, saloet & promising beast and drag him to the tent.
He ia reluctant to c. me ; he rebels against the saddle ; he roars
all the time it is being secured on him, and wlien he is forced
to kneel, not seldom he breaks away from his keepers and
ahambies off into the desert. The camel does this always ; and
•very morning on a march he receives his load only after a
•truggle. The noise of the drivers is little loss than the roar
of the bea«<ts, and with their long hair, shaggy breasts and bare
logs, they are not less barbarous in appearance.

Mounting the camel is not diffijult, but h has some sweet
surprises for the novice. The camol Ues upon the ground with
all his legs shut up under him like a jackknifo. You seat
yourself in the broad saddle, and cross your legs in front of the
pommel. Before you are ready something like a private earth-
quake begins under y^\i. The camel raises his hindquarters
suddenly, and throws you over upon his neck ; and, before you
recover from that, he straightens up his knees and gives you a
jerk over his tail ; and, while you are not at all certain what
has happened, he begins to mo '^ off with that dislocated walk
which sets you into a see-saw motion, a weaving backwards and
forwards in the capacif;aii saddle. Not having a hinged back
fit for this movement, you lash the beast with your koorbish
to make him change hiv gait. Ho is nothing loth to do it, and
at once starts into a h'*gh trot which sends you a foot into the
air at every step, bob? you from side to side, drives your back-
bone into your braiii, and makes castanets of your teeth. Capi-
tal exercise. When vou have enough of it, you pull up, and
humbly enquire what is the heathen method of riding a drome-
dary.

It is simple enough. Shcke ihe loose halter-rope (he has
neither bridle nor bit) against his neck as you swing the whip,
and the animal at once swings into an easy pace ; that is, a
pretty easy pace, like that of a rocking-horse. But everything
depends upon the camel. I happened to mount one that it was
a pleasure to ride, after I brought him to the proper gait. We
sailed along over the smooth sand, with level keel, and (though
the expression is no*" nautical) on cushioned feet. But it is
hard work for the camel, this constant planting of his spongy
f»et in the yielding sand.
• Our way lay over the waste and rolling desert (the track of the

APPROACHING THE SECOND CATARACT.

southern caravans) at some little distance from the river ; and
I suppose six miles of this travel are as good as a hundred.
The sun was blazing hot, the yellow sand glowed in it, and the
far distance of like sand and bristling ledges of black rock
shimmered in waves of heat. No tree, no blade of grass, noth-
ing but blue sky bending over a sterile land. Yet, how sweet
was the air, how })ure the breath of the desert, how charged
with electric life the rays of the sun !

The rock Aboosir, the ultima Thule of pleasure travel on the
Nile, is a sheer precipice of perhaps two to three hundred feet
above the Nile ; but this is high enough to make it one of the
most extensive lookouts in Egypt. More desert can be seen
here than from almost anywhere else. The Secona Cataia. . ii
spread out beneath us. It is less a " fall" eyen than the First.
The river is from a half mile to a mile in breadth, and for a
distance of some five miles is strewn with trap-rock, boulders
and shattered fragments, through which the Ni'e swiftly forces
itself in a hundred channels. There are no falls of any notice-
able height. Here, on the flat rock, where we eat our luncheon,
a cool breeze blows from the north. Here, on this eagle's perch,
commanding a horizon of desert and river for a hundred miles,
fond visitors have carved their immortal names, following an
instinct of ambition that is well-nigh universal, in the belief no
doubt that the name will have for us, who come after, all the
significance it has in the eyes of him who carved it. But I
cannot recall a single name I read there ; I am sorry that I
cannot, for it seems a pitiful and cruel thing to leave them there
in their remote obscurity.

From this rock we look with longing ^o the southward, into
vast Africa, over a land we may not further travel, which we
shall probably never see again ; on the far horizon the blue
peaks of Dongola are visible, and beyond these we know are the
ruins of Meroe, that ancient city, the capital of that Ethiopian
queen Candace, whose dark face is lighted up by a momentary
gleam from the Scriptures. On the beach at Wady Haifa are
half a dozen trading vessels, loaded with African merchandise
for Cairo, and in the early morning there is a great hubbub
among the merchants and the caravan owners. A sudden dis-
put« arises among a large group around the ferry-boat, and there
ensues that excited war, or movement, which always threatens

270

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

to come to violence in the East, but never does ; Niagaras of
talk are poured out ; the ebb and flow of the parti-colored crowd,
and the violent and not ungraceful gestures make a singular
pijture.

Bales of merchandise are piled on shore, cases of brandy and
cottons from England, to keep the natives of Soudan warm
inside and out ; Greek merchants, splendid in silk attire, are
lounging amid their goods, slowly bargaining for their transpor-
tation. Groups of camels are kneeling on the sand with their
Bedaween drivers. These latter are of the Bisharee Arabs, and
free sons of the desert. They wear no turban, and their only
garment is a long strip of brown cotton thrown over the shoulder
so as to leave the right arm free, and then wound about the waist
and loins. The black hair is worn long, braided in strands
which shine with oil, and put behind the ears. This sign of
effeminacy is contradicted by their fine athletic figures, by a
bold strong eye, and a straight resolute nose.

Wady Haifa [wndy is valley, «" ' halfa is a sort of coarse
grass) has a post-office and a m^ j, but no bazaar, nor any
centre of attraction. Its mud-houses are stretched along the
shore for a mile and a half, and run back into the valley, under
the lovely palm-grove ; but there are no streets and no roads
through the deep sand. There is occasionally a sign of wealth
in an extensive house, that is, one consisting of several enclosed
courts and apartments within one large mud wall ; and in one
we saw a garden, watered by a sakiya, and two latticed windows
in a second story looking on it, as if some one had a harem here
which was handsome enough to seclude.

We called oji the kadi, the judicial officer of this district,
whose house is a specimen of the best, and as good as is needed
in thi« land of the sun. On one side of an open enclosure is his
harem ; in the other is the reception-room where he holds cou^-t.
This is a mud-hut, with nothing whatever in it except some straw
mats. The kadi sent for rugs, and we sat on the mud-bench
outside, while attendants brought us dates, popped corn, and
even coffee ; and then they squatted in a row in front of us and
sfeared at us, as we did »>> them. The ladies went into the harem
and made the acquaint^ncvi of the judge's on« wife and his dirty
children. Not without rfh-diality and ^rmvt'^ij *i Miner these
peoplo ; but how simple are the termh v» 1 f^' hci'i^ ; ^d what a

>>- M ',4

APPROACHING THE SECOND CATARACT.

^71

thoronglily African picture this is. the mud-huts, the snnd, the
palms, the black-skinned gi-oups.

The women here arc modestly clad, but most of them fright-
fully ugly and castor oily ; yet we chanced upon two handsome
girls, or rather married women, of fifteen or sixteen. One of
them had regular features and a very pretty expression, and
evidently knew she was a beauty, for she sat ipart on the
ground, keeping her head covered most of the time, and did not
join the women vho thronged about us to look with wonder at
the costume of our ladies and to beg for backsheesh. She was
loaded with necklaces, bracelets of horn and ivory, and had a
ring on every finger. There wa« in her manner something of
scorn and resentment at our intrusion ; she no doubt had her
circle of admirers and was queen in it. Who are these pale
creatures Avho come to stare at my charms ? Have they no dark
pretty women in their own land ? And she might well have
asked, what would she do — a beauty of New York city, let us
say — when she sat combing her hair on the marble doorsteps of
her father's palace in Madison Square, if a lot of savage, im-
polite Nubians, should come and stand in a row in front of her
and stare?

The only sho|>s here are the temjwrary booths of traders,
birds of passage to or A'om the equatorial region. Many of
them have pitched their gay tents under the trees, making the
scene still moi-e like a fail* or an encampment for the night. In
some are displayed European finery and trinnpery, manufact-
ured for Africa, calico in striking colors, glass bearls and cotton
clotl: ; others are coffee-shops, where men are playing at a sort
of draughts — the checker-board being holes made in the sand
and the men pebbles. At the door of a pretty tent stood a
young and handsome Syrian merchant, who cordially invited us
in, and pressed upon us the hospitality of his hou.«e. He was
on his way to Darfoor, and might remain there two or three
years, trading with the natives. Wo learned this by the inter-
pretation of his girl-wife, who spoke a little barbarous French.
He had married her only recently, and this was theii- bridal
tour, we inferred. Into what risks and perils was this pretty
woman going ? She was Greek, from one of the islands, and
had the tmivetc and freshness of both youth and ignorance. Her
fair complexion was touched by the sun and i-uddy with health.

2;2

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

if r

ii i

Her blue eyes danced with the plea.s p of living. She wor«
her hair natural, with neither oil nor ornament, but cut short
and pushed behind the ears. For dress she had a simple calico
gown of pale yellow, cut high in the waist, a la Grecque, the
prettiest costume woman ever assumed. After our long regimen
of the hideous women of the NUe, plastered with dirt, soaked
in oil, and hung "with tawdry ornaments, it may be imagined
how welcome was this vision of a woman, handsome, natural,
and clean; with neither the shyness of an animal nor the brazen-
ness of a Ghawazee.

Our hospitable entertainei*s hastened to set before us what
they had ; a bottle of Maraschino was opened, very good
European cigars were produced, and a plate of pistachio nuts,
to eat with the cordial. The artless Greek beauty cracked the
nuts for us with her shining teeth, laughing all the while;
urging us to eat, and opening her eyes in wonder that we would
not eat w :re a* d would not carry away more. It must be con-
fessed thai we hiA not much conversation, but we mado it up
in constant smiling, and ate our pistachios and sipped our
cordial in great glee. What indeed could we have done more
with words, or how have passed a happier hour? We per-
fectly understood each other ; we drank each other's healths ;
we were civilized beings, met by chance in a barbarous place ;
we were glad to meet, and we parted in the highest opinion of
each other, with gay salaams, and not in tears. What fate I
wonder had these handsome and adventurous merchants among
the savHges of Darfoor'and Kordofani

The face of our black boy, Gohah, was shining with pleasure
when we walked away, and he f«aid with enthusiasm, pointing
to the tent, "aSVW ti/eb, quei-is." Accustomed as he was to the
African beauties of Soudan, I do not wonder that Gohah
thought this "lady" both "good" and "beautiful."

We have seen Wady Haifa. The expedition to Darfoor is
packing up to begin its desert march in the morning. Our
dahabeeh has been transformed and shorn of a great part of its
beauty. We are to see no more the great bird-wing sail. The
long yard has been taken down and is slung above us the whole
length of the deck. The twelve big sweeps are put in place ;
the boards of the forward deck are taken up, so thiA the i oweni
will hftv« place for their feet as tbey Bit on the beams. They

APPROACHING THE SECOND CATARACT.

273

sit fronting the cabin, and rise up and take a step forward at
each stroke, settling slowly back to their seats. On the mast
is rigged the short stem-yard and sail, to be rarely spread.
Hereafter we are to float, and drift, and whirl, and try going
with the current and against the wind.

At ten o'clock of a moonlight night, a night of summer heat,
we swing off, the rowers splashing their clumsy oars and setting
up a shout and chorus in minor, that sound very much like a
wail, and would be quite appropriate if they were ferrymen of
the Styx. We float a few miles, and then go aground and go
to bed.

The next day we have the same unchanging sky, the same
groaning and creaking of the sakiyas, and in addition the irreg-
ular splashing of the great sweeps as we slide down the river.
Two crocodiles have the carelessness to show themselves on a
sand-island, one a monstrous beast, whose size is magnified every
time we think how his great back sunk into the water when our
sandal was yet beyond rifle-shot. Of course he did not know
that we carried only a shot-gun and intended only to amuse
him, or he would not have been in such haste.

The wind is adverse, we gain little either by oars or by the
current, and at length take to the shore, where somethi/ig novel
always rewards us. This time we exph/re Home Eloman nnnn,
with round arches of unburned bricks, and And in them also the
unmistakable sign of Roman occupation, the burnt bricks — those
thin slabs, eleven inches long, five wide, and two thick, which
were a favourite form with thfiu, bricks burnt for eternity, and
scattered all over the East wherever the Koman legions went.

Beyond these is a village, not a deserf od village, but probably
the laziest in the world. Men, and women for the most part
too, were lounging about and in the houses, squatting in the
dust, in -bsolute indolence, except that the women, all of them,
were suckling their babies, and occasionally one of tnem was
spinning a litt 1 cotton thread on a spiiulle whirled in the hand.
The men are more cleanly thiui the women, in every respect in
better condition, some of tuom bright, tine-looking fellows. One
o£ them shi»\ved us through Ids house, which was one of the
finest in the place, aiid he was not a little proud of it. It was
a large mud- wall enclosure. Entering by a rude door we came

)d several doors,

optA space,
18

reguli

k!^

iir

^74

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS,

breaks in the wall, closed by shackling dooi-s of wood. Stepping
over the sill and stooping, we entered the living-rooms. First,
is the kitchen ; the roof of this is the sky — you are always
liable to find yourself outdoors in these houses — and the fire for
cooking is built in one corner. Passing through another hole
in the wall we come to a sleeping-room, where were some jara
of dates and doora, and a mat spread in one corner to lie on.
Nothing but an earth-floor, and dust and grime everywhere. A
crowd of tittering girls were flitting about, peeping at us from
doorways, and diving into them with shrill screams, like
frightened rabbits, if we approached.

Abd-el-Atti raises a great laugh by twisting a piastre into
the front lock of hair of the ugliest hag there, calling her his
wife, and drawing her arm under his to take her to the boat.
It is an immense joke. The old lady is a widow and success-
fully conceals her reluctance. The tying the piece of silver in
the hair is a sign of marriage. All the married women wear a
piastre or some scale of silver on the forehead ; the widows
leave cti this ornament from the twist ; the young girls show,
by the hair plain, except always the clay dabs, that they are in
the market. The simplicity of these people is noticeable. I
saw a woman seated on the groiiud, in dust three inches thick,
leaning against the mud-bank in front of tlie house, having in
. her lap a naked baby ; on the bank sat another woman, braid-
ing the hair of the fir«t, wetting it with muddy water, and
working into it sand, -clay, and tufts of dead hair. What a
way to spend Sunday !

This is, on the whole, a model village. The people appear to
have nothing, and perhaps they want nothing. They do nothing
and 1 suppose they would thank no one for coming to increase
tlu>)r*wants and set tliem to work. Nature is their friend.

1 wonder v, lint the staple of conversation of these people is,
since the weather offers nothing, being always the same, and
always fine.

A ihy ar^d a night and a day we iight adverse winds, and
make no headway. One day wn lie at Farras, a place of no
coniefpience, but IrnvJUjiji, almost as a maltei nf course, ruina of
the tiiiiH of the Romans and th«i name Rameses II. cut on a
rock. In a Roman w^ll we find a d tit in tile exactly like those
we use now. In the evening, aflor moon-rise, we drop down
to Aboo Simbel.

CHAPTER XXIY.

GIANTS m STONE.

||HEN daylight came, the Colossi of Aboo Simbel (or
Ipsambool) were looking ini > our windows ; greeting
the sunrise as they have done every morning for three
thousand five hundred years ; and keeping guard still over the
approach to the temple, whose gods are no longer anywhere
recognized, whose religion disappeared from the earth two
thousand years ago: — vast images, making an eternity of time
in their silent waiting.

The river here runs through an unmitigattid desert. On the
east the sand is brown, on the west the sand is yellow ; that is
the only variety. There is no vegetation, there are no habita-
tions, there is no path on the shore, there are no footsteps on
the sand, no one comes to break the spell of silence. To find
such a monument of ancient power and art as this temple in
such a solitude enhances the visitor's wonder and surprise. The
Pyramids. Thebes, skud ^boo Simbel are the three W(»iidei"8
of MgypI lUii the great temple of Amboo Simbel is unique,
it sallsfit's the mind. Tt is con^plete in itself, it is the projec-
tion of one creative impulse of genius. Other temples are
gi"owths, they have additions, afterthoughts, we can see in them
the workings of )uauy minds and many periods. This is a oom-
plete thought, struck out, yon would say, at a heat.

In order to justify this o[)lnion, I may be permitted a little
detail concerning this temple, vhich impressed us all as mucli
as anything in Egypt, I'here are two te/fipies here, both close
to the shore, both cut in the mountain of rock wiiich here almost
overhangs the stretun "Wa n^ea not deky to speak of the
smaller one, although it would be wonderful, if It were not for
the presence of the larger. Between the two was a rocky gorge.

276

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

This is now nearly filled up, to the depth of one hundred feet,
by the yellow sand that has drifted and still drifts over from
the level of the desert hills above.

This sand, which drifts exactly like snow, lies in ridges like
snow, and lies loose and sliding under the feet, or packs hard
like snow, once covered the facade of the big temple altogether,
and now hides a portion of it. The entrance to the temple was
first cleared away in 1817 by Belzoni and his party, whose gang
of laborers worked eight hours a day for two weeks with the
thermometer at 112° to 116" Fahrenheit in the shade — an al-
most incredible endurance when you consider what the heat
must have been in the sun beating upon this daxzling wall of
sand in front of them. ^ •

The rock in which the temple is excavated was cut back a
considerable distance, but in this cutting the great masses were
left which were to be fashioned into the four figures. The
facade thus made, to which these statues are attached, is about
one hundred feet high. The statues are seated on thrones with
no intervening screens, and, when first seen, have the appear-
ance of images in front of and detached from the rock of which
they form a part. The statues are all tolerably perfect, except
one, the head of which is broken and lies in massefci at its feet ;
and at the time of our visit the sand covered the two northern-
most to the knees. The door of entrance, over w3iich i.4 a
hawk-headed figure of Re, the titular divinity, is twenty feet
high. Above the Colossi, and as a frieze over the curve of the
cornice, is a row of monkeys (there were twenty-one originally,
but some are split away), like a company of negro minstrels,
sitting and holding up their hands in the most comical manner.
Perhaps tlie Egyptians, like the mediaeval cathedral builderi^\
had a liking for grotesque eff'ects in architecture ; but they
may have intended nothing comic here, for the monkey had
sacred functions ; he was an emblem of Thoth, the scribe of the
under- world, who recorded the judgmants of Osiris.

These Colossi are the largest in the world*; they are at least

* The following are some of the measurements of one of these giants : —
height of figure, sixty -dix feet ; pedestal on which it sits, ten ; leg from
knee to heel, twenty; great toe, one and a half feet thick ; ear, three
feet five inches long ; fore-finger, three feet ; from inner side of elbow-
joint to end of middle finger, fifteen (eet.

GIANTS IN STONE.

277

fit'toen feet higher than the wonderH of Thebes, but it is not
their size principally that makes their attraction. As works of
art they are worthy of study Seated, with hands on knees,
in that eternal, traditional rigidity of Egyptian sculpture,
nevertheless the grandeur of the head and the noblo beauty of
the face take them out >f the category of meclumieal works.
The figures represent Kameses II. and the features are of the
type which has come down to us as the perfection of Egyptian
beauty.

I climbed up into the lap of one of the statues ; it is there
only that you can get an adequat*^ i\lea of the hi/.o of the body.
What a roomy lap ! Nearly ten feet between the wrists that
rest upon the legs ! I sat comfortably in the navel f the
statue, as in a niche, and mused on the passing of the nati<»ns.
To these massive figures the years go by like the stream. With
impassive, serious features, unchanged in expression in thousands
of years, they sit listening always to the flowin^' of the unending
Nile, that fills all the air and takes away from that awful silence
which AS ould else be painfully felt in this solitude.

The interior of this temple is in keeping with its introduction.
You enter a grand hall supported by eight massive Osiride
columns, about twenty-two feet high as we estimated them.
They are figures of Ramesu.^ become Osiris- -to be absorbed into
Osiris is the end of all the transmigraMons of the blessed soul.
The expression of the faces of such of taese statues as are unin-
jured, is that of immortal youth — a beauty that has in it the
promise of immortality. The sides of this liall are covered with
fine sculptures, mainly devoted to the exploits of Rameses II. ;
and here is found again, cut in tlie stone, the long Poem of the
poet Pentaour, celebrating the single-handed exploit of Rameses
against the Khitas on the river Orontes. It relates that the
king, whom his troops dared not follow, charged with his char-
iot alone into the ranks of the enemy and rode through them
again and again, and slew them by hundreds. Rameses at that
time was only twenty-three; it was his first great campaign.
Pursuing the enemy, he overtook them in advance of his
troops, and, rejecting the councils of his officers, began the fight
at once. "The footmen and the horsemen then," says the poet
(the translator is M. de Roug6), ** recoiled before the enemy
wiio were masteiu of Kadesh, on the left bank of the Orontes.

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.... Tlien his majesty, in the pride of his strength, rising up
like the god Mauth, put on his fighting dress. Completely
armed, he looked like Baal in the hour of his might. Urging
on his chariot, he pushed into the army of the vile K.hitas ; he
was alone, no one was with him. He was surrounded by
2,500 chariots, and the swiftest of the warriors of the vile
Khitas, and of the numerous nations who accompanied them,
threw themselves in his way. . . . Each chariot bore three men,
and the king had with him neither princes nor generals, nor
his captains of archers nor of chariots."

Then B-ameses calls upon Amun ; he reminds him of the obe-
lisk he has raised to him, the bulls he has slain for him : —
" Thee, I invoke, my Father ! I am in the midst of a host
of strangera, and no man is with me. My archers and horse>-i
men have abandoned me ; when I cried to them, none of them
has heard, when I called for help. But I prefer Amun to
thousands of millions of archers, to millions of horaemen, to
millions of young heroes all assembled together. The designs
of men are nothing, Amun overrules them."

Needless to say the prayer was heard, the king rode slashing
through the ranks of opposing chariots, slaying, and putting to
rout the host. Whatever basis of fact the poem may have had
in an incident of battle or in the result of one engagement, it
was like one of Napoleon's bulletins from Egypt. The Khitas
were not subdued and, not many years after, they drove the
Egyptians out of their land and from nearly all Palestine,
forcing them out of all their conquests, into the valley of the
Nile itself. During the long reign of this Rameses, the ]>ower
of Egypt steadily declined, while luxury increased and the
naUon was exhausted in building the enormous monuments
which the king projected. The close of his pretentious reign
has been aptly compared to that of Louis XIV. — a time of
decadence ; in both cases the great fabric was ripe for disaster.

But Rameses liked the poem of Pontaour. It is about as
long as a bock of the Iliad, but the stone-cutters of his reign
must have known it by heart. He kept them carving it and
illustrating it all his life, on every wall he built where there
was room for the story. He never, it would seem, could get
enough of it. He killed those vile Khitas a hundred times ; he
pursued them over all the stone walls in his kingdom. The

GIANTS IN STONE.

279

ising up
Qpletely
Urging
:fcas ; he
ided by
ihe vile
id them,
ee men,
■als, nor

the obe-
him : —
►f a host
d horse-
of them
mun to
men, to
designs

dashing
tting to
ave had
nent, it
Xhitas
ove the
destine,
' of the
3 power
tnd the
uments
s reign
bime of
lisaster.
bout as
is reign
' it and
•e there
uld get
les : he
\. The

story is told here at Ipsambool ; it is carved in the Rameseum ;
the poem is graved on Luxor and Karnak.

Out of this great hall open eight other chambers, all more or
less sculptured, some of them covered with well-drawn figures
on which the color is still vivid. Two of these rooms are long
and very narrow, with a bench running round the walls, the
front of which is cut out so as to imitate seats with short pillars.
In one are stjuare niches, a foot deep, cut in the wall. The
sculptures in one are unfinished, the hieroglyphics and figures
drawn in black but not cut — some event having called off the
artists and left their work incomplete. We seem to be present
at the execution of these designs, and so fresh are the colors of
those finished, that it seems it must have been only yesterday
that the workman laid down the brush. (x\. small chamber in
the rock outside the temp?e, which was only opened in 1874, is
wonderful in the vividness of its fiolors ; we see there better
than anywhere else the colors of vestments).

These chambera are not the least mysterious portion or this
temple. They are in absolute darkness, and have no chance of
ventilation. By what light was this elaborate carving executed }
If people ever assembled in them, and sat on these benches,
when lights were burning, how could they breathe ] If they
were not used, why should they have been so decorated ] They
would serve very well for the awful mysteries of the Odd Fel-
lows, Perhaps they were used by the Free Masons in Solomon's
time.

Beyond the great hall is a transverse hall (having two small
chambers off from it) with four square pillars, and from this a
corridor leads to the adytum. Here, behind an altar of stone,
sit four man-ed gods, facing the outer door, two hundred feet
from it. They sit in a twilight that is only brightened by rays
that find their way in at the distant door ; but at morning they
can see, from the depth of thei? mountain cavern, the rising sun.

We climbed, up the yielding sand-drifts, to the top of the
precipice in which the temple is excavated, and walked back to
a higher ridge. The view from these is perhaps the best desert
view on the Nile, more extensive and varied than that of
Aboosir. It is a wide sweep of desolation. Up and down the
river ve see vast plains of sand and groups of black hills ; to

28o

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

. t

the west and north the Libyan deRert extends with no limit to
an horizon fringed with sharp peaks, like aiguilles of the Alps,
that have an exact resemblance to a forest.

At night, we give the ancient deities a soi-t of Fourth of
July, and illuminate the temple with colored lights. A blue
light bums upon the altar iu the adytum before the four gods,
who may seem in their penetration to receive again the worship
to which they were accustomed three thousand yeai-s ago. A
gi'een flame in the great hall brings out mysteriously the fea-
tures of the gigantic Osiride, and revives the midnight glow of
the ancient ceremonies. In the glare of torches and colored
lights on the outside, the Colossi loom in their gigantic propor-
tions and cast grotesque shadows.

" Imagine this temple as it app'^ared to a stranger initiated
into the n»ysteries of the religion of the Pharaolis — a adtna in
which the mathematical secrets of the Pyramid and the Sphinx,
art and architecture, were wrapped in the same concealment
with the problem of the destiny of the soul ; when the colors
on these processions of gods and heroes, upon these wars and
pilgrimages sculptured in large on the walls, were all brilliant ;
when these chambers were gorgeously furnished, when the
heavy doors that then hung in every passage, separating the
different halls and apartments, only swung open to admit the
neophyte to new and deeper mysteries, to halls blazing with
light, where he stood in the presence of these appalling figures,
and of hosts of priests and acolytes.

The temple of Aboo Simbel was built early in the reign of
Rameses II., when art, under the impulse of his vigorous pro-
decessoi*s, was in its flower, and before the visible decadence
which befel it later undar a royal patronage and " protection,"
and in the demand for a wholesale production, which always
reduces any art to mechanical conditions. It seemed to us
about the finest single conception in Egypt. It must have been
a genius of rare order and daring who evoked in this solid
mcmntain a work of such grandeur and harmony of proportion,
and then executed it without a mistake. The firat blow on the
exterior, that began to reveal the Colossi, was struck with the
same certainty and precision as that which brought into being
the gods who are seated before the altar in the depth of the

iii J i UJIt i H I MUg rtH

GIANTS IN STONE.

2d I

limit to
!ie Alps,

)nrth of
A blue
ir gods,
worship
Hgo. A
the fea-
glow of
colored
pro[>or-

nitiated
ultns in
Sphinx,
alment
e colors
ars and
illiant ;
len the
ing the
nit the
g with
figures.

•eign of
)us pre-
3adence
3ction,"
always
I to us
re been
is solid
(ortion,
on the
ith the
) being

mountain. A bolder idea was never more successfully wrought
out.

Our last view of this wonder was by moonlight and by sun-
rise. We arose and went forth over the sand-bank at five
o'clock. Venus blazed as never before. The Southern Cross
was paling in the moonlight. The moon, in its last half, hung
over the south-west conier of the temple rock, and throw a
lieavy shadow across a poj'tion of the sitting figures. In this
dimnesa of the half-light their proportions were supernatural.
Details were lost.

These might be giants of pre-historic times, or the old fabled
gods of antediluvian eras, outlined largely and majestically,
groping their way out of the hills.

Above them was the illimitable, purplish blue of the sky.
The Moon, one of the goddesses of the temple, withdrew more
and more before the coming of Re, the sun-god to whom the
temple is dedicated, until she cast a shadow on the fa^'ade. Thb
temple, even the iiiierior, caught the first glow of the reddening
east. The light came, as it always comes at dawn, in visible
waves, and these passed over the features of the Colossi, wave
after wave, slowly brightening them into life.

In the interior the first flush was better than the light of
many torches, and the Osiride figures were revealtjd in their
hiding-places. At the spring equinox the sun strikes s<{uarely
in, two hundred feet, upon the faces of the sitting figures in
the adytum. That is their annual salute ! Now it only sent
its light to them ; but it made rosy the Osiride faces on one
side of the great hall.

The morning v/as chilly, and we sat on a sand-drift, wrapped
lip against the cutting wind, watching the marvellous revela-
tion. The dawn seemed to ripple down the gigantic faces of
the figures outside, and to touch their stony calm with some-
thing like a smile of gladness ; it almost gave them motion,
and we would hardly have felt surprised to see them arise and
stretch their weary limbs, cramped by ages of inaction, and
sing and shout at the coming of the sun-god. But they moved
not, the strengthening light only revealed their stony impass-
iveness ; and when the sun, rapidly clearing the eastern hills
of the desert, gilded first the row of grinning monkeys, and

wm^m

282

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

•F^T^f

then the light crept slowly down over faces and forms to the
very feet, the old heathen helplessness stood confessed.

And when the sun swung free in the sky, we silently drew
away and left the temple and the guardians alone and unmoved.
We called the reis and the crew ; the boat was turned to the
current, the great sweeps dipj>ed into the water, and continued
our voyage down the eternal river, which still sings and flows
in this lonely desert place, whore sit the most gigantic figures
man ever made.

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CHAPTER XXV.

FLITTING THROUGH NUBIA.

I|C[E HAVE been learning the language. The language
consists merely of ti/eb. With tt/eb in its various accents
and inflections, you can carry on an extended conver-
sation. I have heard two Arabs talking for a half hour, in
which one of them used no v/ord for reply or response except
tt/eb " good. "

Ttjfeb is used for assent, agreement, approval, admiration,
both interrogatively and affectionately. It does the duty of
the Yankee " all right " and the vulgarism " that's so " com-
bined ; it has as many meanings as the Italian va beiie, or the
German So ! or the English girl's yes ! yes 1 ye-e-s, ye-e-as ] yes
(short), 'n ye-e-es in doubt and really a negative — ex. : — " How
lovely Blanche looks to night ! " 'n yo-e-es. " You may hear
two untutored Americans talking, and one of them, through a
long interchange of views will utter nothing except " that's 30, "
"that's so"] ''t/iat's so" "that's so." I think two Arabs
meeting could come to a perfect understanding with,

''Tyeb?"

" Tyeb. "

"T(/eb?" (both together).

" Tyeb ? " (showing something).

" Tyeb " (emphatically, in admiration).

" Tyeb " (in approval of the other's admiration).

" Tyeb Keteer " ("good much ").

''Tyeb KeteerV

" Tyeb. "

" Tyeb. " (together, in ratification of all that has been said).

I say tyeb in my satisfaction with you ; you say tyeb in
pleasure at my satisfaction ; I say tyeb in my pleasure at your

284

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

i' if

l( :

pleasure. The servant says tyeh wlien you give hina an order ;
you say tyeh upon his compreh'>nding it. The Arabic is the
richest of languages. I believe there are three hundred names
for earth, a hundred for lion, and so on. But the vocabulary
of the common people is exceedingly limited. Our sailors talk
all day with the aid of a veiy few words.

But we have got beyond tyeb. We can say eiwa (" yes ") —
or nairiy when we wish to be elegant — and /a (" no" ). The
univei*sal negative in Nubia, however, is sim])ler than this —
it is a cluck of the tongue in the left cheek and a slight upward
jerk of the head. This cluck and jerk makes " no, " from which
there is no appeal. If you ask a Nubian the price of anything
— be-kdmdeel — and. he should answer khdnisa (''five"), and
you should offer theldta (" three "), and he should kch and jerk
up his head, you might know the trade was hopeless ; because
the kch expresses indijfference as well as a negative. The best
thing you could do would be to say bookra ('* to-morrow "), and
go away — meaning in fact to put off the purchase forever, as
the Nuoian very well knows when he politely adds ti/eb.

But there are two other words necessary to be mastered
before the traveller can say he knows Arabic. To the constant
call for " backsheesh " and the obstructing rabble of beggars
and children, you must be able to say ma/eesh ("nothing"),
and im'shee ('* get away, " " clear out, " " scat. ") It is my
experience that this iin!shee is the most necessary word in
Egypt.

We do nothing all day but drift, or try to drift, against the
north wind, not making a mile an hour, constantly turning
about, floating from one side of the river to the other. It is
impossible to row, for the steersman cannot keep the boat's bow
to the current.

There is something exceedingly tedious, even to a lazy and
resigned man, in this perpetual drifting hither and thither. To
float, however ^slowly, straight down the current, would be
quite another thing. To go sideways, to go stern first, to waltz
around so that you never can tell which bank of the river you
are looking at, or which way you are going, or what the points
of the compass are, is confusing and unpleasant. It is the one
serious annoyance of a dahabeeh voyage. If it is calm, we go
on delightfully with oars and current ; if there is a .southerly

k i

I --I

FLITTING THROUOn NUBIA.

285

breeze we travel rapidly, and in the most charming way in
the world. But our high-cabined boats are helpless monsters
in this wind, which continually blows ; we are worse than be-
calmed, we are badgered.

However, we might l)e in a worse winter country, and one
less entertaining. We have just diifted in sight of a dahabeeh,
with the English flag, tied up to the bank. On the shore is a
]>icturesq'ie crowd; an awning is stretched over high poles ;
men are busy at something under it — -on the rock near sits a
group of white people under umbrellas. What can it be ] Are
they repairing a broken yard ? Are they holding a court over
some thief? Are they performing some mystic ceremony 1 We
take tlie sandal and go to investigate.

An English gentlenuin has shot two crocodiles, and his peo-
ple are skinning them, stuffing the skin, and scraping the ilesh
from the bones, preparing the skeletons for a museum. Horri-
ble creatures they are, even in this butchered condition. The
largest is twelve feet long ; that is called a big crocodile here ;
y^ut last winter the gentleman killed one that was seventeen
feet long ; that was a monster.

In the stomach of one of these he found two pairs of brace-
lets, such as ai-e worn by Nubian children, two " cunning " lit-
tle leathern bracelets ornamented with shells — a most useless
ornament for a crocodile. The animal is l>ecoming more and
more shy every year, and it is very difficult to get a shot at
one. They come out in the night, looking for bracelets. One
night we nearly lost Ahmed, one of our black boys ; he had
gone down upon the rudder, when an enquiring crocodile came
along and made a snap at him — when the boy climbed on deck
he looked white even by starlight.

The invulnerability of the crocodile hide is exaggerated.
One of these had two bullet-holes in his back. His slayer says
he has repeatedly put bullets through the hide on the back.
When we came away we declined steaks, but the owner gave
us some eggs, so that we might raise our own crocodiles.

Gradually we drift out of this almost utterly sterile country,
and come 10 long strips of palm-groves, and to sakiyas innumer-
able, shrieking on the shore every few hundred feet. We have
time to visit a considerable village, and see the women at their
other occupation (besides lamentation), braiding each [other's

286

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

hair ; sitting on the giotind, sometimes two at a head, patiently
twisting odds and ends of loose hair into the snaky braids, and
m\iddling the who^e with sand, water, and clay, preparatory to
the oil. A few women are spinning with a hand-apindle, and
producing very good cotton-thread. AH a]>pear to have time
on their hands. And what a busy place this must be in sum-
mer, when the heat is like that of an oven ! Tlie men loaf
about like the women, and probably do even less. Those at
work are mostly slaves, boys and girls in the slightest clothing ;
and even these do a great deal of " standing round." Woo<len
hoes are used.

The desert over which we walked beyond the town was very
different from the Libyan with its drifts and drifts of yellow
sand. We went over swelling undulations (like our rolling
prairies), cut by considerable depressions, of sandstone with a
light sand cover, but all strewn with shale or shingle. This
black shale is sometimes seen adhering like a layer of glazing
to the coarse rock ; and, though a part of the i-ock, it has the
queer appearance of having been a deposit solidified upon it and
subsequently broken off*. On the tops of these hills we found
eveiy where holes scooped out by the natives in search of nitre;
the holes showed evidence, in dried mud, of the recent presence
of water.

We descended into a deep gorge; in which the rocks were
broken squarely down the face, exhibiting strata of red, white,
and variegated sandstone ; the gorge was a wady that ran far
back into the country among the mountains ; we followed it
down to a belt of sont acacias and palms on the river. This
wady was full of rocks, like a mountain stream at home ; a
great torrent nmning long in it, had worn the rocks into fan-
tastic shapes, cutting punch-bowls and the like, and water had
recently dried in the hollows. But it had not rained on the
river. ■ "

This morning we are awakened by loud talking and wrang-
ling on deck, that sounds like a Paris revolution. We have
only stopped for milk ! The forenoon we spend among the
fashionable ladies of Derr, the capital of Nubia, studying the
modes, in order that we may carry home the latest. This is
an aristocratic place. One of the eight^hundred^years-old
sycamore trees, of which we made mention, is still vigorous

^'LITTING THROUGH NUBIA.

287

anil was bejuing the sycamore fig. The other is in front of a
grand mud-house with hitticed windows, the residence of the
Kashefs of Sultan Selim, whose descendants still occupy it,
and, though shorn of authority, are said to be proud of their
Turkish origin. One of them, Ha&san Kashef, an old man in
the memory of our dragoman, so old that he had to lift up
his eyelids with his finger when he wanted to see, died only a
few years ago. This patriarch had seventy-two wives as his
modest portion in this world ; and as the Koran allows only
four, there was some difliculty in settling the good man's estate.
The matter was referi'ed to the Kiiodive, but he wisely refused
to interfere. When the executor came to divide the property
among the surviving children, he found one hundred and five
to share the inheritance.

The old fellow had many other patiiarchal ways. On his
death-l)ed he left a legacy of both good and evil wishes, re-
quests to reward this friend, and to " serve out " that enemy,
quite in the ancient style, and in the Oriental style, recalling
the last recorded words of King Da"\'id, whose expiring breath
was an expression of a wish for vengeance upon one of his
enemies, whom he had sworn not to kill. It reads now as if
it might have been spoken by a Bedawee sheykh to his family
only yesterday :- -"And, behold, thou hast with thee Shimei
the son of Gera, a Benjamite of Bahurim, which cursed me
with a grievous curse in the day when I went to Mahanaim :
))ut he came down to meet me at Jordan, and 1 sware to him
by the Lord, saying, I will not put thee to death with the
sword. Now, therefore, hold him not guiltless : for thou art
a wise man, and knowest that thou oughtest to do unto him ;
but his hoar head bring thou down to the grave with blootl.
So David slept with his fathera, and was buried in the city of
David."

We call at the sand-covered temple at A'mada, and crawl
into it; a very neat little afiair, with fresh color and fire
sculptures, and as old as the time of Osirtasen III. (the date of
the obelisk of Heliopolis, of the Tombs of Beni Hassan, say
about fifteen hundred years before Bameses II.); and then sail
quickly down to Korosko, passing over in an hour or so a
distance that required a day and a half on the ascent.

At Korosko there are caravans in from Kartoom ; the camel-

288

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

[l i

1**'

111

drivers wear monstrous silver rings, mode in the int<irior, the
crown an inch high and set with blood-stone. I bought from
the neck of a pretty little boy a silver " chann," a flat plate
with the nanu» of Allah engraved on it. Neither the boy nor
the charm had been washed since they came into l>eing.

The caravan had brought one interesting j)iece of freight,
which had just been sent down the river. It was the head of
the Hultan of Daifoor, preserved in sj)irits, and forwarded to the
Khedive as a pi-esont. This was to certify that the Hultan waH
really killed, when Darfoor was captured by the army of the
Viceroy ; though I do not know that there is any bounty on the
heads of African Sultans. It is an odd gift to send t^ a ruler
who wears the Kuroj)ean dress and speaks French, and whose
chief military otRcers are Americans. :U\<.'- ir. iuyaw^.

The desolate hills behind Korosko r>se a thousand feet, and
we climbed one of the pt^aks to hare a glimpse of the desert
route and the country towards Kartoom. I suppose a more
savage landscape does not exist. The peak of black disintegra-
ted rocks on which we stood was the first of an assemblage of
such as far as we could see south ; the whole horizon was cut
by these sharp peaks ; and through these thickly clustering
hills the caravan trail made its way in sand and powdered dust.
8hut in from the breeze, it must be a hard road to travel, even
with a winter sun midtifdying its rays from all these hot rocks ;
in the summer it would be frightful. But on the^^ summits, or
on any desert sw.ell, the air is an absolute elixir of life ; it has
a quality of lightness but not the rarity that makes respiration
diiiicidt.

At a village below Korosko we had an exhibition of r.he
manner of fighting with the long Nubian war-spear and the big
round shield made of hippopotamus-hide. The men jumped
about and uttered frightening cries, and displayed more agility
than fight, the object being evidently to temfy by a threatening
aspect; but the scene was as barbarous as any we see in Africail
pictures. Here also was a pretty woman (pretty for her) with
beautiful eyes, who woi*e a heavy nose-ring of gold, which she
said she put on to make her face beautiful ; nevertheless she
would sell the ring for nine dollars and a half. The people
along here Avill sell anything they have, ornaments, charms to
protect them from the ovil-eye,- -they will part with anything

:iii^ii

FLITTING THROUGH NUBIA.

289

tor monoy. At this village we took on a crocodile tan feet long,
which had been recently killed, and lashed it to the horizontal
yard. It was Abd-el-Atti's desire to present it to a friend in
Cairo, and perhajm he was not reluctant, when we should be
helow the catanvct, to have io take the apiKjarance, in the eyes
of spectators, of having been killed by some one on this Ijoat.

We obtained above Korosko one of the most beautiful animals
in the world — a young gazelle — to add to our growing mena-
ge' ie ; which consists of a tame duck, who never gets away
when his leg is tied ; a timid desert hare, who has lived for a
long time in a tin box in the cabin, trembli»'.g like nn aspen
leaf night and day ; and a chameleon.

The chameleon ought to have a chapter to himself. We have
reason to tliink that he has the soul of some transmigrating
Egyptian. He is the most uncanny beast. We have made him
a study, and find very little good in him. His changeableness
of color is not his worst quality. He has the nature of a spy,
and he is sullen and snappish besides. We discovere<l that his
color is not a purely physical manifestation, but that it de|K»nds
upon his state of mind, u]X)n his tamper. When everything is
serene, he is green as a May morning, but anger changes hii.t
instantly for the worse. It i» however U ae thut he takes his
color mainly from the subst -nee upon which he dwells, not from
what he eats ; for he eats Hies and allows them to make no im-
l>re88ion upon his exterior. When he was taken off an acacia-
tree, this chameleon was of ^ha bright-green color of the leaves.
Brought into our cabin, his usual resting-place was on the
reddish maroon window curtains, and his green changed nmd-
dily into the color of the woollen. When angry, he would
become mottled with dark spots, and have a thick cloudy color.
This was the range of his changes of complexion ; it is not
enough (is it 1) to give him his exaggerated reputation.

I confess that I almost hated him, and perhaps cannot do
him justice. He is a crawling creature at best, and his mode
of getting alxjut is disagreeable ; his feet have the power of
clinging to the slightest roughness, and he can climb anywhere ;
his feet are like hands ; besides, his long tail is like another
hand ; it is prehensile like the monkey's. He feels his way
along very carefully, taking a turn with his tail about some
support, when he is passing a chasm, and not letting go until
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his feet are firmly fixed on something ahe. And, theiT, the
•way he uses his eye is odious. His eye-balls are stuck upon
the end of protuberances on his head, which protuberances
work like ball-and-socket joints — as if you had your eye on the
end of your finger, When he wants to examine anything, he
never turn.5 his head ; he simply swivels his eye round and
brings it to bear on the object. Pretending to live in cold
isolation on the top of a window curtain, he is always making
clammy excursions round the cabin, and is sometimes found in
our bed-chambers. You wouldn't like to feel his cold tail
dragging over you in the night.

The first question every morning, when we come to break-
fast, is,

" Where is that chameleon V*

He might be under the table, you know, or on the cushions,
and you might sit on him. Commonly he conceals his body
behind the curtain, and just lifts his head above the roller.
There he sits, spying us, gyrating his evil eye upon us, and
never stirring his head ; he takes the colour of the curtain so
nearlv that we could not see him if u was not for that swivel
eye. It is then that he appears malign, and has the aspect of
a wise but ill-disposed Egyptian, Avhose soul has had ill-luck in
getting into any respectable bodies for three or four thousand
years. He lives upon nothing, — you would th'nk he had been
raised in a French pension. Few flies happen his way ; and,
perhaps he is torpid out of the sun so much of the time, he is
not active to catch those that come. I carried him a big one
the other day, and he repaid my kindness by snapping my
finger. And I am his only friend.

Alas, the desert hare, whom r;e have fed with corn, and
greens, and tried to breed courage in for a long time, died this
morning at an early hour ; either he was chilled out of the
world by the cold air on deck, or he died of palpitation of the
heart ; for he was always in a fliitter of fear, his heart goirg
like a trip-hammer, when anyone approached him. He only
larely elevated his long silky ears in a serene enjoyment of
society. His tail was too short, but he was, nevertneless, an
animal to become attacl ed to.

Speaking of Hassan Kashefs violation of the Moslem law,
in taking more than four wives, is It generally known that the

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appmg my

The legend shows that long ago women

-^/^omen in Mohammed's time endeavoured also to have the pri-
vileges of men ? Forty women, who had cooked for the soldiers
who were fighting the infidels and had done great service in the
campaign, were asked by the Prophet to name their reward.
The chief lady, who was put forward to prefer the request of
the others, asked that as men were permitted four wives,
women might be allowed to have four husbands. The Prophet
gave them \ plain reason for refusing their petition, and it has
never been renewed,
protested against their disabilities

The strong north wind, with coolish weather, continues. On
Sunday we are nowhere in particular, and climb a high sand-
stone peak, and sit in the shelter of a rock, where wandeiing
men have often come to rest. It is a wild, desert place, and
there is that in the atmosphere of the da^ which leads to talk
of the end of the world.

Like many other Moslems, Abd-el-Atti thinks that these are
the last days, bad enough days, and that the end draws near.
We have r ' mderstood what Mr. Lane says about Christ
coming to "judge" the world. The Moslems believe that Christ,
who never died, but was taken up into heaven away from the
Jews, — a person in his likeness being crucified in his stead, —
vrill come to rule, to establish the Moslem religion and a reign
of justice (the Millennium); and that after this period Christ
will die, and be buried in Medineh, not far from Mohammed.
Then the world will end, and Azrael, the angel of death, will
be left alone on the earth for forty days. He will go to and
fro, and find no one ; all will be in their graves. Then Christ
and Mohammed and all the dead will rise. But the Lord God
will be the final jud^^e of all.

" Yes, there have been man}^ false prophets. A man came
before Haroun e' Rasheed pretending to be a prophet.

"'What proof have you that you are one? What miracle
can you do ? '"

"'Anything you like ' "

" 'Christ, on whom be peace, raised men from the dead.*"

'^ 'So will I.' This took j)lace before the king and the chief-
justice. 'Let tlie head of the chief-justice be cut off,' said the
pretended pyophet, 'and I will restore him to life.'"

"'Oh,' cried the chief-justice, 'I believe tu«»t the man is a

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real prophet. Anyone who does not believe can h ive his h^ad
cut off, and try it.' "

"A woman also claimed to be a prophetess. 'But,' said the
Khalif Haroun e* Rasheed, * Mohammed declared that he was
the last man who should be a prophet.' "

" 'He didn't say that a wjmin shouldn't be,' the worn in she
answer. "

The people vary in manners and habits here from village to
village, much more than we supposed they would. Walking
this morning for a couple of miles through the two villages of
Maharraka — rude huts scattered under palm trees — we find the
inhabitants partly Arab, partly Barabra, and many negro
slaves, more barbaric than any we have seen ; boys and girls,
till the marriageable age, in a state of nature, women neither
so shy nor so careful about covering themselves with clothing
as in other places, and the slaves wretchedly provided for.
The heads of the young children are shaved in streaks, with
long tufts of hair left ; the women are loaded with tawdry
necklaces, and many of them, poor as they are, sport heavy
hoops of gold in the nose, and wear massive silver bracelets.

The slaves, blacks and mulattoes, were in appearance like
those seen formerly in our southern cotton-fields. 1 recall a
picture, in abolition times, representing a colored man stand-
ing alone, and holding up his arms, in a manner beseeching the
white man passing by, to free him. To-day I saw the picture
realized. A very 'black man, standing nearly naked in the
midst of a bean-field, raised up both his arms, and cried aloud
to us as we went by. The attitude had all the old pathos in
it. As the poor fellow threw up his arms in a wild despair, he
cried "Backsheesh, backsheesh, O ! howadji!"

For the fii'st time we found the crops in danger. The country
was overrun with reddish-brown locusts, which settled in clouds
upon every green thing ; and the people in vain attempted to
frighten them from their scant strip of grain. They are not,
however, useless. The attractive women caught some, and,
pulling off the w' .gs and legs, offered them to us to eat. They
said locusts wei good ; and I suppose they are such as John
the Baptist ate. We are not Baptists.

As we go down the river we take in two or three temples
a day, besides these ruins of humanity in the village, — Dakkeh,

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293

ve hia h^ad

vvom in she

II villaire to

we find the

Gerf Hossayn, Dendoor. It is easy to get enough of these
second-class temples. That at Gerf Hossayn is hewn in the
rock, and is in general arrangement like Ipsambool — it was
also made by Kameses II. — but is in all respects inferior, and
lacks the Colossi. I saw sitting in the adytum four figures
whom I took to be Athos, Parthos, Aramis, and D'Artignan —
though this edifice was built long before the day of the "Three
Guardsmen."

The people in the village below have such a bad reputation
that the dragoman, in great fright sent sailors after us, when
he found we were strolling through the country alone. We
have seen no natives so well off in cattle, sheep, and cooking-
utensils, or in nose-rings, beads, and knives ; they are, however,
a wild, noisy tribe, and the whole village followed us for a
mile, hooting for backsheesh. The girls wear a nose-ring and
a girdle ; the boys have no rings or girdles. The men are
tierce and jealous of their wives, perhaps with reason, stabbing
and throwing them into the river on suspicion, if they are
caught talking with another man. So they say. At this
village we saw pits dug in the sand (like those described in the
Old Testament), in which cattle, sheep and goats were folded;
it being cheaper to dig a pit than to build a stone fence

At Kahibshee are two temples, ruins on a sufficiently large
scale to be imposing ; sculptures varied in character and
beautifully colored ; propylons with narrow staircases, and
C3ncealed rooms, and deep windows bespeaking their use as
fortifications and dungeons as well as temples ; and columns of
interest to the [architect ; especially two, fluted (time of
liimeses II.) with square projecting abacus like the Doric, but
with broad bases. The inhabitants are the most pestilent on
the river, crowding their curiosities upon us, and clamoring for
money. They have for sale gazelie-horns, and the henna
(which grows here), in the form of a ^reen powder.

However, Kalabshee has educational facilities. I saw there
a boys' school in full operation. In the open air, but in the
sheltering angle of a house near the ruins, sat on the ground
the schoolmaster. Behind him leaned his gur against the wall;
before him lay an open Koran ; and in his hand he held a thin
palm rod with which he "enforced education. He was dictating
sentences from the book to a scrap of a scholar, a boy who sat

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on the ground, with an inkhorn beside him, and wrote the sen-
tences on a board slate, repeating the words in a loud voice as
he wrote. Near by was another urchin, seated before a slate
leaning against the angle of the wall, committing the writing
on it to memory, in a loud voice also. When he looked off, the
stick reminded him to attend to his slate. I do not know
whether he calls this a private or a public school.

Quitting these inhospitable savages as speedily as we can,
upon the springing up of a south wind, we are going down
stream at a spanking rate, leaving a rival dahabeeh, belonging
to an English lord, behind, when the adversary puts it into the
head of our pilot to steer across the river, and our prosperous
career is suddenly arrested on a sandbar. We are fast, and the
English boat, keeping in the channel, shows us her rudder and
disappears round the bend.

Extraordinary confusion follows ; the crew are in the water,
they are on deck, the anchor is got out, there are as many
opinions, as people, and no one obeys. The long pilot is a
spectacle, after he has been wading about in the stream and
comes on deck. His gown is off and his turban also ; his head
is shaved ; his drawers are in tatters like lace-work. He
strides up and down beating his breast, his bare poll shining in
the sun like a billiard ball. W^e are on the sand nearly four
hours, and the accident, causing us to lose this wind, loses us,
it so happers, three days. By dark we tie up near the most
excruciating sakiya in the world. It is suggested to go on
shore and buy the property and close it out. But the boy who
is driving will neither sell nor stop his cattle.

At Gertassee we have more ruins and we pass a beautiful,
single column, conspicuous for a long distance over the desert,
as tine as the once " nameless column " in the Roman forum.
These temples, or places of worship, are on the whole depress-
ing. There wtis no lack of religious privileges if frequency of
religious edifices gave them. But the people evidently had no
part in the ceremonies, and went never into these dark cham-
bers, which are now inhabited by bats. The old religion does
not commend itself to me. Of what use would be one of these
temples on Asylum Hill, in Hartford, and hov; would the Rev»
Mr. Twichell busy himself in its dark recesses, I wonder, even
with the help of the deacons and the committee ] The Gothic
is quite enough for us.

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295

This motning — we have now entered upon the month of
February — for the fii-st time in Nubia, we have early a slight
liaze, a thin veil of it ; and passing betv/een shores rocky and
high and among granite breakers, we are reminded of the Hud-
son river on a Juno morning. A strong north wind, however,
comes soon to pnft' away this illusion, and it blows so hard that
we are actually driven up-stream.

The people and villages under the crumbling granite ledges
that this delay enables us to see, are the lejist promising we
have encountered ; women and children are more nearly bar-
barians in dress and manners ; for the women, a single strip of
brown cotton, worn a la Bedawee, leaving free the legs, the
right arm and breast, is a common dress. And yet, some of
these women are not without beauty. One pretty girl sitting
on a rock, the sun glistening on the castor-oil of her hair, asked
for backsheesh in a sweet voice, her eyes sparkling with merri-
ment. A ilow(u* blooming in vain in this desert !

Is it a question of " converting" these people 1 Certainl}',
nothing but the religion of the New Testament, i)ut in practict;
liere, bringing in its train, industry, self-respect, and a desire to
know, can awaken the higher nature, and lift these creatures
into a respectable womanhood. But the task is more difficult
than it would be with remote tribes in Central Africa. These
people have been converted over and over again. They have
had all s^yrts of religions during the last few thousand years, and
t'.iey remain essentially the same. They once had the old Egyp-
tian faith, whatever it was ; and subsequently they varied that
with the Greek and Roman shades of heathenism. They then
accepted the early Christianity, as the Abyssinians did, and had
for hundreds of years, opportunity of Christian worship, when
there were Christian churches all along the Nile from Alex-
ander to Meroc, and holy hermits in every eligible cave and
tomb. And then came Mohammed's friends, giving them the
choice of belief or mai-tyrdom, and they embraced tho religion
of Mecca as cordially as any otlier.

They have remained essentially unchanged through all their
'changes. This hopelessness of their condition is in the fact
that in all the shiftings of religions and of dynasties, the women
have continued to soak their hair in castor-oil. The fashion is
as old as the Nile world. Many people look upon castor-oil as

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an excellent remedy. I should like to know what it has dene
for Africa. ''"' ■ •■5«i T-aiij uu/<->i ^tis .s-is-.

At Dabod is aft interesting ruin, anS a man sits there in
front of his house, weaving, confident that no rain will come to
spoil his yarn. He sits and works the treadle of his loom in a
hole in the ground, the thread being stretched out twenty or
thirty feet on the wall before him. It is the only industry of
the village, and a group of natives are looking on. The poor
wea v^er asks backsheesh, and when I tell him I have nothing
smaller than an English sovereign, he says he can change it !

Hero we find also a sort of Holly-Tree Inn, a house for chari-
table entei-tainments, such as is often seen in Moslem villages.
It is a square mud-structure, entered by two doors, and con-
tains two long rooms with communicating openings. The dirt-
floors are cleanly swept and fresh mats are laid down at inter-
vals. Any stranger or weary traveller, passing by, is welcome
to come in and rest or pass the night, to have a cup of coffee
and some bread. There are two cleanly dressed attendants,
and one of them is making coffee, within, over a handful of fire,
in a tiny coffee-pot. In front, in the sun, on neat mats, sit half
a dozen turbaned men, perhaps tii-ed wanderers and pilgi*ims in
this world, who have turfted aside to rest for an hour, for a day,
or for a week. They appear to have been there forever. The
establishment is maintained by a rich man of the place ; but
signs of an abode of wealth we failed to discover in any of the
mud- enclosures. - ''

When we are under way again, we express sui-prise at finding
here such an excellent charity.

" You no think the Lord he take care for his own V* says
Abd-el-Atti. " When the kin' [king] of Abyssinia go to
'stroy the Kaabeb in Mecca" —
" Did you ever see the Kaabeh V
" Many times. Plenty times I been in Mecca."
" In what part of the Kaabeh in the Black Stone 1"
" So. The Kaabeh is a building like a cube, about, I think
him, thirty feet high, built in the middle of the mosque at
Mecca. It was built by Abraham, of white marble. In the
outside the east wall, near the dorher, 'bout so (four feet) high
you find him, the Black Stone, put there by Abraham, call him
haggeh el ashad, the lucky, the fortunatestone. It is opposite

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297

the sunrise. Where Abraham get him 1 God knows. If any
one sick, he touch this stone, be made so well as he was. So
I /A«*>iderstand. The Kaabeh is in the centre of the earth, and
has fronts to the four quarters of the globe, Asia, Hindia,
Egypt, all places, toward which the Moslem kneel in prayer.
Near the Kaabeh is the well, the sacred well Zem-Zem, has
clear water, beautiful, so lifely. One time a year, in the month
before Ramaddn, Zem-Zem spouts up high in the air, and
people come to drink of it. When Hagar left Ishmael, to look
for water, being very thirsty, the little fellow scratched with
his fingers in the sand, and a spring of water rushed up ; this
is the well Zem-Zera. I told you the same water is in the
spring in Syria, El Gebel ; I find him just the same ; come
imder the earth from Zem-Zem.'

" When the kin* of Abyssinia, who not believe, what you call
infidel, like that Englishman, yes, Mr. Buckle, I see him in
Sinai and Petra — very wise man, know a great deal, very nice
gentleman, I like him very much, but I think he not believe —
when the kin' of Abyssinia came with all his great army and
his elephants to fight against Mecca, and to 'stroy the Kaabeh
as well the same time to carry off all the cattle of the people,
then the people they say, * the cattle are ours, but the Kaabeh
is the Lord's, and he will have care over it ; the Kaabeh is not
ours.* There was one of the elephants of the kin* of Abyssinia,
the name of Mahmoud, and he was very wise, more wise than
anybody else. When he came in sight of Mecca, he turned
back and went the other way, and not all the spears and darts
of the soldiers couM stop him. The others went on. Then the
Lord sent but of the hell very small biixls, with very little
stones, taken out of hell, in their claws, no larger than mustard
seeds ; and the birds dropped these on the heads of the soldiera
that rode on the elephants — generally three or four on an
elephant. The little seeds went right down through the men
and through the elephants, and killed them, and by this the
army was 'stroyed.

" When the kin', after that, come into the mosque, some
power outside himself made him to bow down in respect to the
Kaabek He went away and did not touch it. And it stands
there the same now."

■:

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CHAPTER XXVI.

MYSTERIOUS PHIL.E.

|l|ftE are on deck early to see the approacli to Phihv, which
is through a gateway of higli rocks. The scenery is like
parts of the Rhine ; and as we come in sight of the old
mosque perched on the hillside, and the round tomb on the pin-
nacle above, it is very like the Rhiiie, with castle ruins. The
ragged and rock island of Biggeh rises before us and seems to
stop the way, but at a turn in the river, the little temple, with
its conspicuous columns, then the pylon of the great temple, and
at lengt' the mass of ruins, that cover the little island of Philaj,
open on tlie view.

In the narrows we meet the fleet of government boats con-
veying the engineer expedition going up to begin the railway
from Wady Haifa to Berber. Abd-el-Atti does not like the
prospect of Egypt running deeper and deeper in debt, with no
good to come of it, he says ; he believes that the Khedive is
acting under the advice of England, which is entirely selfish,
and only desires a short way to India, in case the French should
shut the Suez Canal against them (his view is a very good
example of a Moslem's comprehension of affairs). Also think-
ing, with all Moslems, that it is best to leave the world and its
people as the Lord has created and placed them, he replied to
an enquiry about his opinion of the railroad, with this story of
Jonah : —

" When the prophet Jonah came out of the whale and sat
down on the bank to dry under a tree (I have seen the tree) in
Syria, there was a blind man sitting near by, who begged the
prophet to give him sight. Then Jonah asked the Ix)rd for
help, and the blind man was let to see. The man was eating
dates at the same time, and the first thing he did when he got

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299

his eyes open was to snap the hard seeds at Jonah, who you
know was very tender from being so long in the whale. Jonah
was stung on his skin, and bruised by the stones, and he cry
out,

" O ! Lord, how is this ]"

And the Lord said, " Jonah, you not satisfied to leave things
as I placed 'em ; and now you must suffer for it."

One muses and dreams at Philce, and does not readilv arouse
himself to the necessity of exploring and comprehending the
marvels and the beauties that ins^ isibly lead him into senti-
mental reveries. If ever the spirit of beauty haunted a spot, it
is this. Whatever was harsh in the granite ledges, or too sharp
in the granite walls, whatever is repellant in the memory con
eerning the uses of these temples of a monstrous theogony, all
is softened now by time, all asperities are worn away ; nature
and art grow lovely together in a gentle decay, sunk in a re})0se
too beautiful to be sad. Nowhere else in Egypt has the grim
mystery of the Egyptian's cultus softened into so harmless a
memory.

The oval island contains perhaps a hundred acres. It is a
rock, with only a patch or two of green, and a few scattered
palms, just enough to give it a lonely, poetic, and not a fruitful
asp83t, and, as has been said, is walled all round from the water's
edge. Covered with ruins, the principal are those of the temple
of Isis. Beginning at the southern end of the island, where a
flight of steps lead up to it, it stretches along, with a curved
and broadening colonnade, giant pylons, groat courts and covered
temples. It is impossible to imagine a structure or series of
structur-^s more irregular in the lines or capricious in the forms.
The architects gave free play to their fancy, and we find here the
fertility and variety, if not the grotesqueness of imagination of
the mediaeval cathedral buildings. The capitals of the columns
of the colonnade are sculptured in rich variety ; the walls of the
west cloister are covered with fine carvings, the color on them
still fresh and delicate ; and the ornamental designs are as
beautiful and artistic as the finest Greek work, which some of
it suggests : as rich as the most lovely Moorish patterns, many
of which seem to have been copied from these living creations
• — diamond-work, birds, exquisite medallions of flowers, and
sphinxes.

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Without seeing this mass of buildings, you can have no notion
of the labor expended in decorating them. All the surfaces of
the gigantic pylons, of the walls and courts, exterior and interior,
are covered with finely and carefully cut figures and hierogly-
phics, and a great deal of the work is minute and delicate
chiselling. You are lost in wonder if you attempt to estimate
the time and the number of workmen necessary to accomplish all
this. It seems incredible that men could ever have had patience
or leisure for it. A great portion of the figures, within and
without, have been, with much painstaking, defaced; probably
it was done by the early Christians, and this is the only impress
they have left of their domination in this region.

The most interesting sculptures, however, at Philte are those
in a small chamber, or mortuaiy chapel, on the roof of the main
temple, touching th« most sacred mystery of the Egyptian
religion, the death and resurrection of Osiris. This myth, which
took many fantastic forms, was no doubt that forbidden topic
upon which Herodotus was not at liberty to speak. It was the
growth of a period in the Egyptian theology when the original
revelation of one God grew weak and began to disappear under
a monstrous symbolism. It is possible that the priests, who
held their religious philosophy a profound secret from the vulgar
(whose religion was simply a gross worahip of symbols), never
relinquished the belief expressed in their sacred texts, which
say of God " that He is the sole generator in heaven and earth,
and that He has not been begotten. . . That He is the only
living and true God, who was begotten by Himself. . . He
who has existed from the beginning. . . . who has made
all things and was not Himself made." It is possible that they
may have held to this and still kept in the purity of its first
conception the myth of the manifestation of Osiris, however
fantastic the myth subsequently b3cam3 in my tholojy and in the
popular worship. .fj^jijj.

Osiris, the personification of the sun, the life-giving, came
upon the earth to benefit men, and one of his titles was the
" manifester of good and truth." He was slain in a conflict
with Set, the spirit of evil and darkness ; he was buried; he
was raised from the dead by the prayeirs of his wife, Isis ; he
became the judge of the dead ; he was not only the life-giving
but the saving deity ; " himself the first raised from the dead ,

MYSTERIOUS PHIL/E.

301

he assisted to raise those who were justifioLl, after having aided
them to overcome all their trials."

But whatever the priests and the initiated believed, this
myth is here symbolized in the baldest forms. We have the
mummy of Osiris passing through its interment and the suc-
cessive stages of the under-world ; then his body is dismem-
bered and scattered, and finally the limbs and organs are
reassembled and joinsd together, and the resurrection takes
place before our eyes, It reminds one of a pantomime of the
Kavels, who used to chop up the body of a comrade and then
put him together again as good as new, with the insouciance of
beings who lived in. a world where such transactions were
common. The whole temple indeed, would be a royal place
for the tricks of a conjurer or the delusions of a troop of stage
wizards. It is full of dark chambers and secret passages, some
of them in the walls and some subterranean, thy entrances tj
which are only disclosed by removing a close-fitting stone.

The great pylons, ascended by internal stairways, have
habitable chambers in each story, lighted by deep slits of win-
dows, and are like palace fortresses. The view from the sum-
mit of one of them is fascinating, but almost grim; that is,
your surroundings are huge masses of granite mountains and
islands, only relieved by some patches of green and a few palms
on the east shore. But time has so worn and fashioned the
stones of the overtopping crags, and the color of the rod granito
is so warm, and the contours are so softened that under tlio
brilliant sky the view is mellowed and highly poetical, and
ought not to be called grim.

This little island, gay with its gorgeously colored walls,
graceful colonnades, garden-roofs, and spreading terraces, set in
its rim of swift water, protected by these granite fortresses,
bent over by this sky, must have been a dear and sacred place
to the worshippers of Isis and Osiris, and we scarcely wonder
that the celebration of their rites was continued so long in our
era. We do not need, in order to feel the romance of the
place, to know that it was a favorite spot with Cleopatra, an 1
that she moored her silken-sailed dahabach on the sandbank
where ours now liea. Perhaps she was not a person of roman-
tic nature. There is a portrait of her here (the authenticity of
which rests upon I know not what authority) stiffly cut in the

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Rtone, in which she api)ears to be a resohito woman with full
Hensual lips and a detonnined chin, ilor hair i.s put up in
decent simplicity. But I half think that she herself was like
hei other Egyptian sisters and made hor silken locks to shine
with the juice of the castor-oil plant. But what wore these
mysteries in which she took part, and what wjis this worship,
conducted in these dark and secret chambei*8 ] It was veiled
from all vulgar eyes ; probably the people were acarcely allowed
to set foot upon the sacred island.

Sunday morning was fresh and cool, with fleecy clouds, light
and summer-like. Instead of Sabbath bells, when I rose late,
1 heard the wild chant of a crow rowing a dahabeiih down the
echoing channel. And I wondered how church bells, ning on
the top of these pylons, would sound I'everberating among tl^ese
granite rocks and boulders. We climbed, during the afternoon,
to the summit of the island of Biggeh, which overshadows
Philoe, and.is a most fantastic pile of crags. You can best un-
deratand this region by supposing that a gigantic internal ex-
plosion lifted the granite strata into the air, and that the
fragments fell hap-hazard. This Biggeh might have been piled
up by the giants who attempted to scale heaven, when Zeus
blasted them and theii* work with his launched lightning.

From this summit, we have in view the broken, rock-strewn
field called the Cataract, and all the extraoixlinary islands of
rook above, that almost dam the river ; there, over Phila?, on
the north shore, is tlie barrack-like Austrian Mission, and near
it the railway that runs through the desert waste, round the
hills of the Cataract, to Assouan. These vast piled-up frag-
ments and splintered ledges, here and all about us, although of
red granite and syenite, are all disintegrating and crumbling
into tine atoms. It is this decay that softens the hardness of
the outlines, and harmonizes A/ith the ruins below. Wild as
the convulsion was that caused this fantastic wreck, the scene
is not without a certain peace now, as we sit here this Sunday
afternoon, on a high crag, looking down upon the pagan tem-
ples, which resist the tooth of time almost as well as the masses
of granite rock that are in position and in form their sentinels.

Opposite, on the hill, is the mosque, and the plastered dome
of the sheykh's tomb with its prayer-niche, a quiet and com-
manding place of repose. The mosque looks down upon the

MYSTERIOUS PHIL^.

303

ever-flowing Nile, upon the granite desolation, ui>on the dooay-
ing temple of iHiH, — converted once into a teni[>lo of the true
(rod, and now merely the marvel of the traveller*. Tlie moHcpte
itself, representative of the latest religion, is fulling to niin.
What will come next] What will come t<) break up this civil
ized barbarism 1

" Abd-el-Atti, why do you suppose the loj-d permitted the
old heathens to have such a lovely place as this I'hila; for the
practice of their superstitions ] "

" Do' know, bo sure. Once there was a si-ranger, I ret^kou
hiui travel without any dragoman, come to the tent of the
prophet Abraham, and ask for food anl lodging ; he was a kind
of intidel, not believe in God, not to l)elieve in anything but a
bit of stone. And Abraham was very angry, and sent him
away without any dinner. Then the Ijord, when ho saw it,
scolded Abraham.

" 'But,* says Abraham, ' the man is an infidel, and does not
believe in Thee.'

***Well,' the Lord ho answer to Abraham, 'he has lived in
my world all his life, an<* I have suffered him, and taken care
of him, and prospered him, and borne his infidelity; and you
could not give him a dinner, or shelter for one night in your
house ! '

"Then Abraham ran after the infidel, and called him back,
and told him all that the Lord he say. And the ::itidel when
he heard it, answer,

" *If the Lord says that, I believe in him ; and I believe
that you are a prophet.' "

" And do you think, Abd-el-Atti, that men have been more
tolerant, the Friends of Mohammed, for instance, since then ? "

" Men pretty nearly always the same ; 1 see 'em all 'bout
alike. I read in our books a little, what you call 'em ? — yes,
anecdote, how a Moslem 'ulama, and a Christian priest, and a
Jewish rabbi, were in a place together, and had some conversa-
tion, and they agreed to tell what each would like best to
happen.

" The priest ])e began : — * I should like,' says he, * as many
Moslems to die as there ai'e animals eaci ificed by them on the
day of sacrifice.'

" 'And I,' says the 'ulama, * would like to see put out of the
way so many Christians as they eat eggs on Easter.'

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" Now it is youi* turn, says they both to the rabbi ; — *Well,
I should like you both to have your wislies.' I think the Jew
have the beat of it. Not so 1 "

The night is soft and still, and envelopes Philaj in a summer
warmth. The stars crowd the blue-black sky with scintiDant
points, obtrusive and blazing in startling nearness ; they are all
repeated in the darker blue of the smooth river, where lie also,
perfectly outlined, the heavy shadows of the granite masses.
Upon the silence suddenly break the notes of a cornet, from a
(lahabeiih moored above us, in pulsations, however, rather to
emphasize than to break the hush of the night.

*^ EL ! that's Mr. Fiddle," cries Abd-el-Atti, whoije musical
nomenclature is not very extensive, " that's a him."

Once on a moonless night in Upper Nubia, as we lay tied to
the bank, under the shadow of the palms, there had swept past
us, flashing into sight an instant and then gone in the darkness,
an upward-bound dahabeiih, from the deck of which a cornet-u-
piston flung out, in salute, tlie lively notes of a popular Amer-
ican air. The player (whom the dragoman could never call by
any name but " Mr. Fiddle "), as we came to know later, was
an Irish gentleman, Anglicized and Americanized, and indeed
cosmopolitan, who lias a. fancy for going about the world and
awaking here and there remote and commonly undisturbed
echoes with his favorite bra.ss horn. I daresay that moonlight
voyagers on the Hudson have heard its notes di'opping down
from the Highlands ; it has stirred the air of every land on the
globe except India ; our own Sierras have responded to its in-
vitations, and Mount 8inai itself has echoed its strains. There
is a prejudice against the cornet, that it is not exactly a family
instrument ; and not more suited to assist in morning and
evening devotions tlian the violin, which a young clei-gyman,
whom I knew, was endeavoring to learn, in or^ler to play it,
gently, at family prayers.

This traveled cornet, however, begins to play, with deliberate
pauses between the bars, the notes of that glorious hymn, "How
tirm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord," following it with the
rrayer from Der Freischutz, and that, again, with some familiar
Scotch airs (a transition perfectly natural in home-circles on
Sunday evening), every note of which, leisurely floating out
into the ni^ht, is sent back in distant echoes. Nothing can be

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305

lovelier than the scene, — the tropical night, the sentimental
island, the shadows of columns and crags, the mysterious
presence of a brooding past, — and nothing can be sweeter than
these dulcet, lingering, re-echoing strains, which are the music
of our faith, of civilization, of home. From these old temples
did never come, in the days of the flute and the darabooka, such
melodies. And do the spirits of Isis and Osiris, and of Berenice,
Cleopatra, and Antoninus, who worahipped them here, listen,
and know perhaps that a purer and better spirit has come into
the world ?

In the midst of this echoing melody, a little boat, its sail
noiselessly furled, its gunwales crowded with gowned and white-
turbaned Nubians, glides out of the shadow and comes along-
side, as silently as a ferry-bcat of the under-world bearing the
robed figures of the departed, and the venerable Reis of the
Cataract steps on board, with es-salaam 'aleykum ; and the nego-
tiation for shooting the rapids in the morning begins.

The reis is a Nubian of grave aspect, of a complexion many
snades darker than would have been needed to disqualify its
possessor to enjoy civil rights in our country a few years ago,
and with watchful and shrewd black eyes which have an oc-
casional gleam of humor ; his robe ^s mingled black and white,
his turban is a line camels' hair shawl ; his legs are bare, but he
we^rs pointed red-morocco slippers. There is a long confab
between him and the dragoman, over pipes and coffee, about
the down trip. It seems that there is a dahabeeh at Assouan,
carrying the English Prince Arthur and a Moslem prince,
which has been waiting for ten days the whim of the royal
scion, to make the ascent. Meantime no other boat can go up
or down. The cataract buninesj is at a standstill. The govern-
ment has given orders that no other boat shall get in the way ;
and m? ny travellers* boats have been detained from one to two
weeks ; some of them have turned back, without seeing Nubia,
unable to spend any longer time in a vexatious uncertainty.
The prince has signified his intention of coming up the cataract
to-morrow mornina^, and consequently we cannot go down, al-
though the descending channel ia not the same as the ascending.
A considerable fleet of boats is now at each end of the cataract,
powerless to move.

The cataract people express gi*eat dissatisfaction at this in^
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terference in their concerns by the government, \v)iich does not
pay thera as much as the ordinary traveller does for passing the
cataract. And yet they have their own sly and mysterious
method of dealing witli boats that is not less annoying than the
government favoritism. Tliey will very seldom take a dahabeiih
through in a day ; they have delight in detaining it in the
rapids and showing their authority.

When, at length, the reis comes into tho cabin, to pay us a
visit of courtesy, ho is perfect in dignity and good-breeding, in
spite of his bare legs ; and enters into a discourse of the situa
tion with spirit ana intelligence. In roply to a remark, that,
in America we are not obliged to wait for princes, his eyes
sparkle, as he answers, with much vivacity of manner,

" You quite right. In Egypt we are in a mess. Egypt is a
ewe sheep from which every year they shear the wool cjoso
oflf ; the milk that should go to the lamb they drink ; and when
the poor old thing dies, they give the carcass to the people —
the skin they cut up among themselves. This season," he goes
on, "is to the cataracts like what the pilgrimage is to Mecca
and to Jerusalem — the time when to make the money from the
traveller. And when the princes they come, crowding the
traveller to one side, and tlie government makes everything
done for them for nothing, and pays only one dollar for a turkey
for which the traveller pays two, 'bliges the people to Sv^ll
their provisions at its own price," — the sheykh stopped.

*' The reis, then, Abd-el-Atti, doesn't fancy this method of
doing business 1"

"No, him say he not like it at all.''

And the reis kindled up, " You may call the prince any-
thing you like, you may call him king ; but the real sultan is
the man who pays his money anJ does not come here at the cost
of the government. Great beggars some of these big nobility ;
all the great people want the Viceroyal to do 'em charity, and
take 'em up the Nile, into Abyssinia, I don't know where all.
I think the greatest beggars always those who can best afford
to pay."

With this philosophical remark the old sheykh concludes a
long harangue, the substance of which is given above, and takes
his leave with a hundred complimentary speeches.

Forced to wait, we employed Monday advantageously in ex-

MYSTERIOUS PHILi€.

307

;y, and

ploring the land-route to Assouan; going to Mahatta, where the
trading boats lie, and piles of merchandise lumber the shore.
It is a considerable village, and full of most persistent beggars
and curiosity vendoi-s. The road, sandy and dusty, winds
through hills of granite boulders — a hot and desolate though
not deserted highway, for strings of camels, with merchandise,
were in sight the whole distance. We passed through the
ancient cemetery, outside of Assouan, a dreary field of sand
and rocks, the leaning grave stones covered with inscriptions
in old Arabic (or Cuffic), where are said to rest the martyred
friends of the prophet who perished in the first battle with the
infidels above Philse.

Returning W3 made a dHour to the famous syenite quarries,
the openings of several of which are still visible. They were
worked from the sides, and not in pits, and offer little to interest
the ordinary sight-seer. Yet we liko to see where the old
workmen chipped away at the rocks ; there are frequent marks
of the square holes that they drilled, in order to split off the
stone v/ith wet wedges of wood. The great obelisk which lies
in the quarry, half covered by sand, is unfinished ; it is tapered
from the base to its tip, ninety-eight feet, but it was doubtless,
as the marks indicate, to be worked down to the size of the big
obelisk at Karaak ; the part which is exposed measures ten to
eleven feet square. It lies behind ledges of rock, and it could
only have been removed by cutting away the enormous mass
in front of it, or by hoisting it over. The suggestion oi" Mr.
Wilkinson that it was to be floated out by a canal, does not
commend itaelf to one standing on the ground.

We came back by the long road, the ancient travellet' way,
along which, on the boulders, are rudely-cut sculptures r^^nd
hieroglypJiics, mere scratchings on the stone, but recording the
passage of kings and armies as long ago as the twelfth dynasty.
Nearly all the way from Assouan to Philoe are remains of a
huge -'yall of unbumt bricks, ten to fifteen feet broad and pro-
bably fifteen to twenty feet high, winding along the valley and
over the low ridges. An apparently more unnecessary wall
does not exist ; it is said by people here to have been thrown
up by the Moslems as a protection against the Nubians when
they first traversed this desert ; but it Is no doubt Roman.
There are indications that the Nile once f)0ured its main flood
through this opening.

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We emerge not far from tlie south end of the railway track,
and at the deserted Austrian Mission. A few Nubian families
live in huts on tht. bank of the stream. Among the bright-eyed
young ladies, with shining hair, who entreat backsheesh, while
we are waiting for our sandal, is the daughter of our up-river
pilot. We should have had a higher opinion of his dignity
and rank if we had not seen his houLie and his family.

After sunset the dahabeiis of the Prince came up and were
received with salutes by the waiting boats, which the royal craft
did not return. Why the dragoman of the arriving dahabeiih
came to ours with the prince's request, as he said, for our cards,
we were not informed ; we certainly intended no offence by the
salute ; it was, on the part of the other boats, a natural expres-
sion of pleasure that the royal boat was at last out of the way.

At dark we loose from lovely Philie, in order to drop down
to Mahatta and take our station for running the cataract in the
morning. As we draw out from the little fleet of boats, Irish,
Hungarian, American, English, rockets and blue lights illumine
the night, and we go off in a blaze of glory. Regardless of the
Presence, the Irish gentleman responds on his cornet with the
Star-Spangled Banner, the martial strains of which echo from
all the hills.

In a moment, the lights are out, the daliabeiihs disappear and
the enchanting island is lost to sight. We are gliding down
the swift and winding channel, through granite walls, under
the shadow of giant boulders, immereed in the gloom of a night
which the stars do not penetrate. There is no sound save the
regular, chopping fall of the heavy sweeps, which steady the
timorous boat, and are the only sign, breaking the oppressive
silence, that we are not phantom ship in a world of shades.
It is a short but ghostly vo3!age, and we see at length with a
sigh of relief the lines of masts and spars in the poi*t of
Mahatta. Working the boat through the crowd that lie
there we moor for the night, with the roar of the cataract in
our ears.

■\^,"f(

CHAPTER XXVII.

RETURNING.

S^E ai'e on deck before sunrise. A film is over the sky and
a light breeze blows out our streamer — a bad omen for
the passage.

The downward run of the Cataract is always made in the
efir\y morning, that being the time when there is least likely to
be any wind. And a calm is considered absolutely necessary
to the safety of the boat. The north wind, which helps the
passage up, would be fatal going down. The boat runs with
the current, and any exterior disturbance would whirl her about
and cast her upon the rocks.

If we are going this morning, we have no time to lose, for it
is easy to see that this breeze, which is now uncertainly dally-
ing'with our colours, will before long strengthen. The Cataract
people begin to arrive; there is already a blue and white row
of them squatting on the bank above us, drawing their cotton
robes about them, for the morning is a trifle chilly. They come
loitering along the bank ar.d sit down as if they were merely
spectators, and had no interest in the performance.

The sun comes, and scatters the cloud-films ; as the sun rises
we are ready to go ; everything has been made snug and fast
above and below ; and the breeze has subsided entirely. We
ought to take instant advantage of the calm ; seconds count,
now. But we wait for the Reis of the Cataract, the head rsia,
without whose consent no move can be made. It is the sly old
sheykh with whom we have already negotiated, and he has his
reasons for delaying. By priority of arrival at Philee our boat
is entitled to be first taken down; but the dragoman of another
boat has been crossing the palms of the guileless patriarch with

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gold pieces, and he has agreed to give the other boat the prefer-
ence. It is not probable that the virtuous sheykh ever in-
tended to do so, but he must make some show of keeping his
bargain. He would like to postpone our voyage, and take the
chances of another day.

But here he comes, mounted on a donkey, in state, wrapped
about the head and neck in his cashmere, and with a train of
attendants — the imperturbable, shrewd old man. He halts a
moment on the high bank, looks up at our pennant, muttei*s
something about " wind, not good day, no safe," and is coolly
about to ride by.

Our dragoman in an instant is at his side, and with half-
jocular but firm persistence invites him to dismount. It is in
vain that the sheykh invents excuse after excuse for going on.
There is a neighbor in the village whose child is dead, and he
must visit him. The consolation, Abd-el-Atti thinks, can be
postponed an hour or two. Allah is all-merciful. He is chilly,
his fingers are cold, he will just ^ide to the next house and warm
his hands, and by that time we can tell whether it is to be a
good morning. Abd-el-Atti is sure that he can warm his fingers
much better on our boat, in fact he can get warm all through
there.

" I'll warm him if he won't come," continues the dragoman,
turning to us ; " if I let him go by, the old rascal, he slip down
to Assouan, and that become the last of him."

Before the patriarch knows exactly what has happened, or
the other dragoman can hinder, he is gently hustled down the
steep bank aboard our boat. There is a brief palaver, and then
he is seated, with a big bowl of coffee and bread ; we are still
waiting, but it is evident that the decisive nod has been given.
The complexion of affairs has changed !

The people are called from the shore ; before we interpret
rightly their lazy stir, they are swarming on board. The men
are getting their places on the benches at the oars — three stout
fellows at each oar ; it looks like " business." The three prin-
cipal reises are on board ; there are at least a dozen steersmen ;
several heads of families are present, and a dozen boys. More
than seventy-fiv^e men have invaded us — and they may all be
needed to get ropes ashore in case of accident. This unusual
swarm of men and the assistance of so many sheykhs, these

RETURNING.

311

extra precautions, denote either fear, or a Jesire to impress \\n
with the magnitude of the undertaking. The head reis sluikes
his head at the boat and mutters " much big." We have aboard
almost every skilful pilot of the rapids.

Tli(^ Cataract flag, two bantis of red and yellow with the name
of " Allah " worked on it in white, is set up by the cabin
stairs.

There is a great deal of talking, some confusion, and a little
nervousness. Our dragoman cheerfully says, " we will hope
for the better," as the beads pass through his fingers. The
reises are audibly muttering their [»rayers. Tlie pilots begin to
strip to tlieir work. A bright boy of twelve years, squat on
deck by the tiller, is loudly and rapidly reciting the Koran.

At the last moment the most venerable reis of the cataract
comes on board, as a great favor to us. He has long been
superannuated, his hair is white, his eye-sight is dim, but when
he is on board all will go well. Given a conspicuous seat in a
chair on the cabin deck, he begins at once prayers for our safe
passage. This sheykh is very distinguished, tracing his ancestry
back beyond the days of Abraham ; his family is very large —
seven hundred is the number of his relations ; this seems to be
a favorite number ; Ali Moorad at Luxor has also seven hun-
dred relations. The sheykh is treated with great deference ;
he seems to have had something to do with designing the cata-
ract, and opening it to the public.

The last rope is hauled in ; the crowd on shore cheer ; our
rowera dip the oars, and in a moment we are sweeping along in
the stiff current, avoiding the boulders on either side. We go
swiftly. Everybody is muttering prayers now ; two venerable
reises seated on a box iu front of the rudder increase the speed
of their devotions ; and the boy chants the Koran with a freer
swing.

Our route down is not the same as it was up. We pass the
head of the chief rapid — in which we struggle — into which it
would need only a wink of the helm to turn us — and sweep
away to the west side ; and even appear to go a little out of our
way to run near a precipice of rock. A party of ladies and
gentlemen who have come dov n from their dahabeeh above, to
see us make the chCite, are standing on the summit, and wave
handkerchiefs and hats as we rush by.

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Before iis, we can see the gi-eat rapids — a down-liill pi-ospect.
The passage is narrow, and so crowded is the luirrying water
that there is a ridge down the centre. On this ridge, which is
broken and also curved, we are to go. If it were straight, it
would be more attractive, but it curves short to the right near
the bottom of the rapid, and, if we do not turn sharp with it,
we shall dash against the rocks ahead, where the waves strike
in curling foam. All will depend upon the skill and strength
of the steersmen, and the sheer at the exact instant.

There is not long to think of it, however, and no possibility
now of evading the trial. Before we know it, the nose of the
boat is in the rapid, which flings it up in the air ; the next
second we are tossed on the waves. The bow dips, and a heavy
wave deluges the cook's domain ; we ship a ton or two of water,
the aragoman, who stands forward, is wet to his breast ; but
the boat shakes it off and rises again, tossed like an egg-shell.
It is glorious. The boat obeys her helm admirably, as the half-
dozen pilots, throwing their weight upon the tiller, skilfully
veer it slightly or give it a broad sweep.

It is a matter of only three or four minutes, but they are
minutes of intense excitement. In the midst of them, the reis
of our boat, who has no command now and no responsibility,
and is usually imperturbably calm, becomes completely un-
manned by the strain upon his nerves, and breaks forth into
convulsive shouting, tears and perspii*ation running down his
cheeks. He has "the power," and would have hysterics if he
were not a man. A half-dozen people fly to his rescue, snatch
off his turban, hold his hands, mop his face, and tiy to call him
out of his panic. By the time he is somewhat cci^^posed, we
have shunned the rocks and made the turn, and are floating in
smoother but still swift water. The reises shake hands and
come to us with salaams and congratulations. The chief pilot
desires to put my fez on his head in token of great joy and
amity. The boy stops shouting the Koran, the prayers cease,
the beads are put up. It is only when we are in a tight place
that it is necessary to call upon the name of the Lord vigorously.
" You need not have feared," said a reis of the Cataract to
GUI'S, pointing to the name on the red and yellow flag, " Allah
would bring us through."
That there was no danger in this passage we cannot affirm.

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313

The (laliab«eh» tlmi we left at Maliatta, ready to go down, and
which might jiave been brought through that morning, wore
detained four "r five days upon the whim of the reisos. Of tiie
two that came firat, one esca|)ed with a slight knock against
the rocks, and the other was dashed on them, her l)ottom staved
in, and half filletl with water immediately. Fortunately, she
was fast on the rock ; the passengers, luggage, and stores were
got ashore ; and after some days the boat was rescued and
repaired.

For a mile below this cliAte we have i*apid going, rocks to
shun, short turns to make, tnd quite uncertainty enough to
keep us on the qui vive, and finally, another lesser rapid, where
there is infinitely more noise by the crew, but less danger from
th.3 river than above.

As we approach the last rapid, a woman appears in the swift
stream, swimming by the help of a log — that being the handy
ferry-boat of the country ; her clothes are all in a big basket,
and the basket is secured on her head. The sandal, which is
making its way down a side channel, with our sheep on board,
is signalled to take this lady of the lake in, and land 3ier on the
opposite shore. These sheep of ours, though much tossed about,
seem to enjoy the voyage, and look about upon the raging scene
with that indiflerence which comes of high breeding. They
are black, but that was not to their prejudice in their Nubian
home. They are comely animals in life, and in death are the
best mutton in the East ; it is said that they are fed on dates,
and that this diet imparts to their flesh its sweet flavour. I think
their excellence is quite as much due to the splendid air they
breathe. While we are watching the manoeuvring of the boat,
the woman swims to a place where she can securely lodge iier
precious log in the rocks and touch bottom with her feet. The
boat follows her and steadies itself against the same rocks,
about which the swift current is swirling. The water is up to
the woman's neck, and the problem seems to be to get the
clothes out of the basket which is on her head, and put them
on, and not wet t]ie clothes. It is the old myth of Venus rising
from the sea, but under changed conditions, and in the face of
modern sensitiveness. How it was accomplished, I cannot say,
but when 1 look again the aquatic Venus is seated in the san-
dal, clothed, dry, and placid.

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We were an hour pasHing the rapids, the last part of tlie
time with a strong wiiid against us ; if it had risen sooner, we
should have had serious trouble. As it was, it took another
hour with three men at each oar, to work down to Assouan
through the toi*tuous channel, which is full of rocks and whirl-
pools. The men at each bank of oars l>elonged to ditforent
tribes, and they fell into a rivalry of rowing, which resulted in
an immense amount of splashing, spurting, yelling, chorusing,
and calling on the Prophet. When the contest became hot, the
oai"s were all at sixes and sevens, and in fact the rowing gave
way to vituperation and a general scrimmage. Once, in one of
the most ticklish places in the rapids, the rowera had fallen to
(piarrelling, and the boat would have gone to smash, if the reis
had not rushed in and laid about him ^"ith a stick. These art-
less children of the sun ! However, we came down to our
landing in good form, exchanging salutes with the fleet of boats
waiting to make the ascent.

At once four boats, making a gallant show with their spread
wings, sailed past us, bound up the cataract. The passengei-s
fired salutes, waved their handkerchiefs, and exhibited the
exultation they felt in being at last under way for Phila? ; and
well thsy might, for some of them had been waiting here fifteen
days.

But alas for their brief prosperity. The head reis was not
with them ; that autocrat was still ujion our deck, leisurely
stowing away coffee, eggs, cold meat, and whatever provisions
were brought him, with the calmness of one who has a good
conscience. As the dahabeehs swept by he shook his head and
murmured, " not much go."

And they did "not much go." They stopped indeed, and
lay all day at the first gate, and all night. The next morning,
two dahabeiihs, carrying persons of rank, passed up, and were
given the prefei-ence, leaving the first-comers still in the rapids ;
and two days after, they were in mid-passage, and kept day
after day in the roar and desolation of the cataract, at the
pleasure of its owners. The only resource they had was to write
indignant letters, in remonstrance to the governor at Assouan.

This passage of the cataract is a mysterious business, the
B3crets of which are only mastered by patient study. Why
the reises should desire to make it so vexatious is the prime

RETURNING.

315

rt of til©
)onor, we
[ another
AsBOuaii
nd whirl-
dittbrent
5811 Ited ill
lionising,
e hot, the
ring gave
in one of
fallen to
f the reiH
^hese art-
ti to our
t of boats

ir spread
a8sengei"s
>ited the
ilffi ; and
sre fifteen

J was not
leisurely
irovisions
8 a good
head and

ieed, and
morning,
and were
le rapids ;
kept day
t, at the
s to write
Assouan,
iness, the
y. Why
he prime

mystery. The traveller who reaches Assouan often finds him-,
self entangled in an invisible web of restraints. Thert^ is no
opposition to his going on ; on the contrary the governor, the
reises, and everyone overflow with courtesy and helpfulness.
But, somehow, he does not go on, he is played with from day
to day. The old sheykh, before he took his affectionate leave
of us that morning, let out the reason of the momentary
hesitation he had exhibited in agreeing to take our boat up the
caiaract when we arrived. The excellent owners, honest Aboo
Yoosef and the plaintive little Jew of Bagdad, had sent him a
bribe of a whole piece of cotton cloth, and some money to induce
him to prevent our passage. He was not to refuse, not by any
means, for in that case the owners would have been liable to us
for the hundred pounds foi-feit named in the contract in case the
boat could not be taken up ; but ho was to amuse ns, and
encourago us, and delay us, on various pretexts, so long that we
should tire out and freely choose not to go any farther.

The integrity of the reis was proof against the seduction of
this bribe ; he appropriated it, and then earned the heavy fee
for carrying us up, in addition. I can add nothing by way of
eulogium upon Uiis clever old man, whose virtue enabled liiin
to withstand so much temptation.

We lay for two days at the island Elephantine, opposite
Assouan, and have ample time to explore its two miserable
villages, and to wander over the heaps on heaps, the debria of
so many successive civilizations. All day long, women and
children are clambering over these mounds of ashes, pottery,
bricks, and fragments of stone, unearthing coins, images, beads,
and bits of antiquity, which the strangers buy. There is noth-
ing else on the island. These indistinguishable mounds are
almost the sole evidence of the successive occupation of ancient
Egyptians, Canaanites, Ethiopians, Persians, Greeks, Romans,
Christians, and conquering Arabs. But the grey island has an
indefinable charm. The northern end is green with wheat and
palms ; but if it were absolutely naked, its fine granite outlines
would be attractive under this splendid sky. The days are
lovely, and the nights enchanting. Nothing more poetic could
be imagined than the silvery reaches of river at night, with
their fringed islands and shores, the stars and the new moon,
the uplifted rocks, and the town reflected in the stream.

$\6

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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Of Assouan itself, its palm-grovos ami dirty hiiddlo ot
dwellings, we have quite onough in a day. ('uriosity loadH uh
to visit the jail, and we found there, by chance, one of our
sailors, who is locked up for insubordination, and our vener-
able reis keeping him company, for being inefficient in authority
over his crew. In front of the jail, under the shade of two
large acacia trees, the governor has placed his divan and holds
his levf'eit in the open air, transacting business, and entertaining
liis visitors with coffee and cigars. His excellency is a very
" smartish," big black fellow, not a negro nor a Nubian exactly,
but an Ababdeh, f/om a tribe of desert Arabs ; a man of some
aptitude for affairs and with ver}' little palaver. The jail has
an outer guard-room, furnished with divans and open at both
ends, and used as a court of justice. A not formidable door
leads to the first room, which is some twenty feet square ; and
here, seated upon the ground with some thirty others, we are
surprised to recognize our reis. The respectable old incapable
was greatly humiliated by the indignity. Although he was
s{)eedily released, his incarcei-ation was a mistake ; it seemed to
break his spirit, and he was sullen and uncheerful ever after-
wards. His companions we 'e in for tnvial offences : most of
them for not paying the govk rnment taxes, or for debt to the
Khedive, as the phrase was. In an adjoining, smaller room,
were the great criminals, the thieves and murderera. Three
murderers were chained together hy enormous iron cables at-
tached to collars about their necks, and their wrists were
clamped in small wooden stocks. In this company were five
decent-looking men, who were also bound together by heavy
chains from neck to neck ; us were told that these were the
brothers of men who had rvii away from the draft, and that
they would be held until thoir relations surrendered themselves.
They all sat glumly on the ground. The jail does not differ in
comfort from the ordinarv houses ; and the men are led out
once a day for fresh air ; we saw the murderers taking an air-
ing, and exercise also in lugging their ponderous irons, i ' ' -

We departed from Assouan early in the morning, with w^ter
and wind favorable for a prosperous day. At seven o'clock our
worthy steersman stranded us on a rock. It was a little diffi-
cult to do it, for he had to go out of his way and to leave the
broad and plainly staked-out channel. But he did it very

RETURNING.

317

neatly. Tlio rock waa a dozen feet out of water, and he laid
the boat, without injury, on the shelving upper side of it, ho
that the current would constantly wash it further o.i, and the
fulling river would desert it. The steersman waa born in
Assouan and knows every rock and current here, even in the
dark. This accident no doubt haptKnied out of sympathy with
the indignity to the reis. That able commander is curled up
on the deck ill, and no doubt was greatly grieved when he felt
the grating of the bottom upon the rock; but he was not too
ill to exchange glances with the serene and ever-smiling steers-
man. Three houra after the stranding, our ci*ew have succeeded
in working us a little further ou than we were at tirst, and are
still busy ; surely there are in all history no such navigators
as these.

It is with some regret that we leave, or are trying to leave,
Nubia, both on account of its climate and its people. The men,
various sorts of Arabs as well as the Nubians, ai-e better
material than the fellaheen below, finer looking, with more
spirit and pride, more independence and self-respect. They
are also more barbarous ; they carry knives and heavy sticks
universally, and guns if they can get them, and in many places
have the reputation of being quarrelsome, turbulent, and thieves .
But we have rarely received other than courteous treatment
from them. Some of the youngest women are quite pretty, or
would be but for the enormous nose, and ear-rings, the twisted
hair and the oil ; the old women are all unnecessarily ugly.
The children are apt to be what might be called free in apparel,
except that the girls wear fringe, but the women are as modest
in dress and manner as those of Egypt. That the highest
morality invariably prevails, however, one cannot affirm, not-
withstanding the privilege of husbands, which we are assured
is sometimes exercised, of disposing of a wife (by means of the
knife and river) who may have merely incurred suspicion by
talking privately with another man. This process is evidently
not frequent, for women are plenty, and we saw no bodies in
the river.

But our chief regret at quitting Nubia is ou account of the
climate. It is incomparably the finest winter climate I have
ever known ; it is nearly perfect. The air is always elastic
and inspiring ; the days are full of sun ; the nights are cool and

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318

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

refreshing ; the absolute dryness seems to counteract the dinger
from changes of temperature. You may do there what you
cannot in any place in Europe in the winter — ^get warm. You
may also there have repose with langour.

We went on the rock at seven and got off at two. Tlie
governor of Assouan was asked for help and he sent down a
couple of boat-loads of men, who lifted us off by main strength
and the power of their lungs. "We drifted on, but at sunset we
were not out of sight of the mosque of Assouan. Strolling
ashore we found a broad and rich plain, large palm-groves and
wheat-fields, and a swarming population— in striking contrast
to the country above the Cataract. The character of the peo-
ple is wholly different ; the women are neither so oily, nor have
they the wild shyness of the Nubians; they mind their own
business and belong to a more civilized society ; slaves, negroes
as black as night, abound in the fields. Some of the large
wheat-fields are wholly enclosed by substantial unburnt brick
walls, ten feet high.

Early in the evening our serene steer.sman puts us hard
aground again on a sandbar. I suppose it was another accident.
The wife and children of the steersman live at a little town op-
posite the shoal upon which we have so conveniently landed,
and I suppose the poor fellow wanted an opportunity to visit
them. He was not permitted leave of absence while the boat
lay at Assouan, and now the dragoman says that, so far as he
is concerned, the permission shall not be given from here, al-
though the village is almost in sight ; the steersman ought to
be punished for his condust, and he must wait till he comes
up next year before he can see his wife and children. It seems
a hard case, to separate a man from his family in this manner.

" I think it's a perfect shame," cries Madame, when she
hears of it, " not to see his family for a year ! "

" But one of his sons is on board, you know, as a sailor. And
the steersman spent moat of his time ,vith his wife, the boy's
mother, when we were at Assouan."

*^ I thought you said his wife lived opposite here ] "

" Yes, but this is a newer one, a younger one ; that is hit
old wife, in Assouan."

"Oh!"

" The poor fellow has another in Cairo."

" Oh ! "

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RETURNING.

319

" He haj* wives, I darasay, at proper distances along the

Nile, and whenever he wants 10 spend an hour or two with his

family, he runs us aground."

" I don't care to hear anything more about him."

The Moslem religion is admirably suited to the poor mariner,

and especially to the salor on the Nile through a country that

is all length and no width.

manner,
dien she

CHAPTER XXYIII.

MODERN FACTS AND ANCIENT MEMORIES.

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sN a high bluflf stands the tottering temple of Koni Onibo,
conspicuous from a distance, and commanding a dreary
waste of desert. Its gigantic columns are of the Ptole-
maic time, and the capitals show either Greek influence or the
relaxation of the Egyptian hieratic restraint.

The temple is double, with two entrances and parallel suites
of apartments, a happy idea of the builders, impartially to split
the difference between ^ood and evil. One side is devoted to
the worahip of Horus, the embodiment of the principle of Light,
and the other to that of Savakj the crocodile-headed j^od of
Darkness. I fear that the latter had hero the more wor-
shippers ; his title was Lord of Ombos, and the fear of him
spread like night. On the sand-bank, opposite, the once- favored
crocodiles still lounge in the sun, with a sharp eye out for the
rifle of the foreigner, and, no doubt, wonder at the murderous
spirit which has come into the world to supplant the peaceful
heathenism.

These ruins are an example of the jealousy with which the
hierarchy guarded their temples from popular intrusion. The
sacred precincts were enclosed by a thick and high brick wall,
which must have concealed the temple from view except on the

river side ; so formidable wa.s this wall, that

although

the

edifice stands upon an eminence, it lies in a basin formed by
the ruirs of the enclosure. The sun beating in it at noon con-
verted it into a reverberating furnace — a heat sufficient to melt
any image not of stone, and not to be endured by persons who
do not believe in Savak.

We walked a long time on the broad desert below Ombos,
over sand as hard as a sea-beach pounded by the waves, looking

MODERN FACTS AND ANCIENT MEMORIES. 32 1

111 Ombo,
a dreary
le Ptole-
le or +/he

el suites
■ to split
^oted to
f Light,

(^od of
re wor-

of him
favored

for the
irderous
peaceftil

lich the
1. The
ck wall,
; OR the
igh the
med by
on oon-
to melt
>ns who

Ombos,
looking

.;., _. ^tA,.

for the bed of pebbles mentioned in the handbook, and found it
a couple of miles below. In the soft bank an enormous mass
of pebbles has been deposited, and is annually added to —
sweepings of the Nubian deserts, flints and agates, bits of
syenite from Assouan, and colored stones in great variety.
There is a tradition that a sailor once found a valuable diamond
here, and it seems always possible that one may pick some pre*
cious jewel out of the sand. Some of the desert pebbles, polished
by ages of sand-blasts, are very beautiful.

Every day when I walk upon the smooth desert away from
the river, I look for colored stones, pebbles, flints, chalcedonies,
and agates. And I expect to find, some day, the ewige pebble,
the stone translucent, more beautiful than any in the world —
})erhaps, the lost seal of Solomon, dropped by some wandering
Bedawee. I remind myself of one looking always in the deaei-t
for the pearl of great price, which all the markets and jewelers
of the world wait for. It seems possible, here under this serene
sky, on this expanse of sand, which has been trodden for thou-
sands of years by all the Oriental people in turn, by caravans,
by merchants and warriore and wanderers, swept by so many
geologic floods and catastrophes, to find it. I never tire of
looking, and curiously examine every bit of translucent and
variegated flint that sparkles in the sand. I almost hope, when
I find it, that it will not be cut by hand of man, but that it will
be changeable in color, and be fashioned in a cunning manner
by nature herself. Unless, indeed, it should be, as I said, the
talismanic ring of Solomon, which is known to be somewhere
in the world.

In the early morning we have drifted down to Silsilis, one of
the most interesting localities on the Nile. The difference 'n
the level of the land above and below and the character of the
rocky passage at Silsilis teach that the first cataract was here
before the sandstone dam wore away and transferred it to
Assouan. Marks have been vainly sought here for the former
height of the Nile above ; and we were interested in examining
the upper strata of rocks laid bare in the quarries. At a height
of perhaps sixty feet from the floor of the quariy, we saw
between two strata of sandstone a layer of other material that
had exactly the appearance of the deposits of the Nile which so
closely resemble rock along the shore

Upon reaching

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322

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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It »

found that it was friable and, in fact, a sort of liardened earth.
Analysis would show whether it is a Nile deposit, and might
contribute something to the solution of the date of the catas-
trophe here.

The interest at Silsilis is in these vast sandstone quarries,
and very little in the excavated grottoes and rock-temples on
the east phore, with their defaced and smoke-obscured images.
Indeed, nothing in Egypt, not even the temples and pyramids,
has given us such an idea of the imm nse labor the Egyptians
expended in building, as these vast excavations in the rock. We
have wondered before where all the stone came from that we
have seen piled up in buildings and heaped in miles of ruins ;
we wonder now what use could have been made of all the stone
quarried from these hills. But we remember that it was not
removed in a century, nor in ten centuries, but that for great
periods of a thousand years workmen were hewing here, and
that much of the stone transported and scattered over Egypt
has sunk into the soil out of sight.

There are half a dozen of these enormous quarries close to-
gether, each of which has its communication with the river.
The method of working was this : — a narrow passage was cut
in from the river several hundred feet into the mountain, or
until the best- working stone was reached, and then the excava-
tion was broadened out without limit. We followed one of
these passages, the sides of which are evenly-cut rock, the height
of the hill. At length we came into an open area, like a vast
cathedral in the mountain, except that it wanted both pillars
and roof. The floor was smooth, the sides were from fifty to
seventy-five feet high, and all perpendicular, and as even as if
dressed down with chisel and hammer. This was their general
character, but in some of them steps were left in the wall and
platforms, showing perfectly the man .er of working. The
qjarrymen worked from the top down perpendicularly, stage
by stage. We saw one of these platforms, a third of the dis-
tance from the top, the only means of reaching which was by
nicks cut in the face of the rock, in which one might plant his
feet and swing down by a rope. There was no sign of splitting
by drilling, or by the use of plugs, or of any explosive material.
The walls of the quarries are all cut down in fine lines that
run from top to bottom i^lantingly and parallel. These lines

MODERN FACT:> AND ANCIENT MEMORIES. 3^3

liave every inch or two round cavities, as if the stone had been
bored by some flexible insti-ument that turned in its progress.
The workmen seem to liave cut out the stone always of the
shape and size they wanted to use ; if it was for a statue, the
place from which it came in the quarry is rounded, sliowing
the contour of the figure taken. They took out every stone by
the most patient labor. Whether it was square or round, they
cut all about it a channel four to five inches wide, and then
separated it from the mass underneath by a like broac cut.
Nothing was split away ; all was carefully chiseled out, appar-
ently by small tools. Abandoned work, unfinished, plainly
shows tliis. The ages and the amount of labor required to hew
out such enormous quantities of stone are heightened in our
thought, by the recognition of this slow process. And what
hells these quarries must have been for the workmen, exposed
to the blaze of a sun intensified by the glaring reflection from
the light-colored rock, and stifled for want of air. They have
left the marks of their unending task in these little chiselings
on the face of the sandstone walls. Here and there some one
has rudely sketched a figure or outlined a hieroglyphic. At
intervals place are cut in the rock through which ropes could
be passed, and these are worn deeply, sliowing the use of ropes,
and no doubt of derricks, in handling the stones.

These quarries are as deserted now as the temples which
were taken from them ; but nowhere else in Egypt was I more
impressed with the duration, the patience, the greatness of the
race that accomplished such prodigies of labor.

The grottoes, as I said, did not detain us ; they are common
calling places, where sailors and wanderers often light fires at
night, and where our crew slept during the heat of this day.
We saw there nothing more remarkable than the repeated figure
of the boy Horus taking nourishment from the breast of his
mother, which provoked the irreverent remark of a voyageur
that Horus was more fortunate than his dragoman had been in
finding milk in this stony region.

Creeping on, often aground and always expecting to be, the
weather growing warmer as we went north, we reached Edfoo.
It was Sunday, and the temperature was like that of a July
day, a south wind, and the mercury at 85°.

In this condition of affairs it wa.s not unpleasant to find a

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324

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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temple, entire, clean, perfectly excavated, and a cool retreat
from the glare of the sun. It was not unlike entering a cathe-
dral. The door by which we were admitted was closed and
guarded ; we were alone ; and we experienced something of
the sentiment of the sanctuary, that hush and cool serenity
wliich is sometimes mistaken for religion, in the presence of
ecclesiastical architecture.

Although this is a Ptolemaic temple, it is, by reason of its
nearly perfect condition, the best example for study. The
propylon, which is two hundred and fifty feet high, and one
hundred and fifteen long, contains many spacious chambers,
and confirms our idea that these portions of the temples were
residences. The roof is something enormous, being composed
of blocks of stone, three feet thick, by twelve wide, and
twenty-two long. Upon this roof are other chambers. As we
wandered through the vast pillared courts, many chambers,
and curious passages, peered into the secret ways and under-
ground and intermural alleys, and emerged upon the roof, we
thought what a magnificent edifice it must have been for the
gorgeous processions of the old worship, which are sculptured
on the walls.

But outside this temple, and only a few feet from it, is a
stone wall of circuit, higher than the roof of the temple itself.
Like every inch of the temple walls, this wall outside and in-
side is covered with sculptures, scenes in river life, showing a
free fancy, and now ' ind then a dash of humor ; as, when a
rhinoceros is made to tow a boat — recalling the western
sportiveness of David Crockett with the alligator. Not only
did this wall conceal the temple from the vulgar gaze, but out-
side it was again an enceinte of unbaked brick, efiectually ex-
cluding and removing to a safe distance all the populaces.
Mariette Bey is of the opinion that all the imposing ceremonies
of the old ritual had no witnesses except the privileged ones
of the temple ; and that no one except the king could enter
the adytum.

It seems to us also that the king, who was high priest and
king, lived in these palace-temples, the pylons of which served
him for fortresses as well as residences. We find no ruins of
palaces in TT-^'pt, and it seems not reasonable that the king,
who had aii the riches of the l^nd at his command, would have
lived in a hut of mud.

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MODERN I^ACTS AND ANCIENT MEMORIES. 325

From the summit of this pylon we had an extensive view of
the Nile and the fields of ripening wheat. A glance into the
squalid town was not so agreeable. I know it would be a
severe test of any village if it were unroofed, and one could
behold its varied domestic life. We may from such a sight as
this have some conception of the appearance of this world to
the angels looking down. Our view was into filthy courts and
roofless enclosures, in which were sorry women and unclad
children, sitting in the dirt ; where old people, emaciated and
feeble, and men and women i'^ of some wasting disease, lay
stretched upon the ground, uncared for, stifled by the heat and
swarmed upon by flies.

The heated day lapsed into a delicious evening, a half-moon
over head, the water glassy, the shores fringed with palms,
the air soft. As we came to El Kab, where we stopped, a
carawan was whistling on the opposite shore — a long, shrill
whistle, like that of a mocking-bird. If we had known, it
was a warning to us that the placid appearances of the night
were deceitful, and that violence was masked under this smil-
ing aspect. The barometer indeed had been falling rapidly
for two days. We were about to have our first experience of
what may be called a simoon.

Towards nine o'clock, and suddenly, the wind began to blow
from the north, like one of our gusts in summer, preceding a
thunderstorm. The boat took the alarm at once, and en-
deavoured to fly, swinging to the wind and tugging at her
moorings. With great difficulty she was secured by strong
cables fore and aft, anchored in the sand, but she trembled and
shook and rattled, and the wind whistled through the rigging
as if we had been on the Atlantic — any boat loose upon the
river that night must have gune to inevitable wreck. It be-
came at once dark, and yet it was a ghastly darUness ; the air
wiwj full of fine sand that obscured the sky, except directly
overhead, where there were the ghost of a wan moon and some
spectral stars. Looking upon the river, it was like a Connec-
ticut fog — but a sand fog ; and the river itself roared, and
high waves i-an against the current. When we stepped from
the boat, eyes, nose, and mouth, were instantly choked with
sand, and it was almost impossible to stand. The wind in-
creased, and rocked the boat like a storm at sea ; for three

326

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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hours it blew with much violence, and in fact did not spend
itself in the whole night.

"The worsei storm, God be merciful," says Ahd-el-Atti,
" ever I saw in Egypt."

When it somewhat abated, the dragoman recognized a divine
beneficence in it ; " it show that God 'member us."

It is a beautiful belief of devout Moslems that personal afflic-
tions and illnesses are tokens of a heavenly care. Often wlien
our dragoman has bef n ill, he has congratulated himself that
God was rememberrjg him.

" Not so ? A friend of me in Cairo was never in his life ill,
never any pain, toothache, headache, nothing. Always well.
He begin to have fear that something should happen, mebbj
God forgot him. One day I meet him in the Mooskee very
much pleased ; all right now, he been broke him the arm ; Gol
'member him."

During the gale we had a good specimen of Arab character.
When it was at its height, and many things about the attacked
vessel needed looking after, securing and tightening, most of
the sailors rolled themselves Up, drawing their heads into their
burnouses, and went sound asleep. The after-sail was blown
loose and flapping in the wind ; our reis sat composedly looking
at it, never stirring from his haunches, and let the canvas
whip to rags ; finally a couple of men were aroused and secure:!
the shreds. The Nil,e crew is a marvel of helplessness in an
emergency ; and considering the dangers of the river to these
top-heavy boats, it is a wonder that any accomplish the voyage
in safety. There is no more discipline on board than in a dis-
trict school meeting at home. The boat might as well b3 run
by ballot.

It was almost a relief to have an unpleasant day to talk
about. The forenoon was like a mixed fall and spring day in
New England, strong wind, flying clouds, but the air full of
sand instead of snow ; there was even a drop of rain, and we
heard a peal or two of feeble thunder — evidently an article not
readily manufactured in this country ; but the afternoon
settled back into the old pleasantness.

Of the objects of interest at Eilethyas I will mention only
two, the famous grottoes, and a small temple of Amunoph III.,
not oftea visited. It stands betwe3n two and three miles from

run

MODERN FACTS AND ANCIENT MEMORIES. 327

the river, in a dssolate valley, down which the Bisharee Arabs
used to come on marauding excurnions. What freak placed it
in this remote solitude ] It contains only one room, a few
paces sfpiare, and is, in fact, only a chapel, but it is full of
caj)ital pieces of sculptures of a good period of art. The archi-
tect will find here four pillars, which clearly suggest the Doric
style. They are fourteen-sided, but one of the planes is broader
than the others and has a raised tablet of sculptures which ter-
minate above in a face, said to be that of Lucina, to whom the
temple is dedicated, but resembling the cow-headed Isis. These
pillars, with the sculptures on one side finished at the top with
a head, may have suggested the Osiride pillars.

The grottoes are tombs in the sandstone mountain, of the
time of the eighteenth dynasty, which began some thirty-five
hundred years ago. Two of them have remarkable sculptures,
the coloring of which is still fresh ; and I wish to speak of them
a little, because it is from them (and seme of the same character)
that Egyptologists have largely reconstructed for us the common
life of the ancient Egyptians. Although the work is somewhat
rude, it has a certain veracity of execution which :.s pleasing.

We assume this tomb to have been that of a ma' of wealth.
This is the ante-chamber; the mummy was deposit d in a pit
let into a small excavation in the rear. On one wall are
sculptured agricultural scenes: ploughing, sowing, reaping wheat
and pulling doora (the color indicates the kind of grain),
hatchelling the latter, while oxen are treading out the wheat,
and the song of the threshers encouragincf the oxen is written
in hieroglyphics above ; the winnowing and storing of tlie
grain ; in a line under these, the various domestic animals of
the deceased are brought forward to a scribe, who enumerates
them and notes the numbers on a roll of papyrus. There are
river-scenes: — grain is loaded into freight-boats; pleasure-da-
habeiihs are on the stream, gayly painted, with one square sail
amidships, rowers along the sides, and windows in the cabin ;
one has a horse and cliariot on board, the reis stands at the
bow, the overseer, kurbash in hand, is threatening the crew, a
sailor is falling overboard. Men are gathering grapes, and
treading out the wine with their feet ; others are catching fish
and birds in nets, and dressing and curing them. At the end
of this wall, offerings are made to Osiris. In one compartment
a man is seated holding a boy on his lap.

328

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

i ■'! ir

On the oppo.^ite wall are two large figures, supposed to be
the occupant of the tomb and his wife, seated on a fanteuil ;
men and women, in two separate lines, facing the large figures,
are seated, one leg bent under them, each smelling a lotus
flower. In the roar, men are killing and cutting up animals as
if preparing for a feast. To the leg of the fanteuil is tied a
monkey ; and Mr. Wilkinson says that it was customary at
entertainments for the hosts to have a " favorite monkey" tied
to the leg of the chair. Notwithstanding the appearance of the
monkey here in that position, I do not suppose that he would
say that an ordinary entertainment is represented here. For,
although there are preparations for a feast, there is a priest
standing between the friends and the principal personages,
making offerings, and the monkey may be present in his char-
actor of emblem of Thoth. It seems to be a funeral and not a
festive representation. The pictures apparently tell the story
of the life of the deceased and his occupations, and represent
the mourning at his tomb. In other grottoes, where the mar-
ried pair are seated as here, the arm of tlie woman on the
shoulder of the man, and the " favorite monkey" tied to the
chair, friends are present in the act of mourning, throwing dust
on their heads, and accompanied by musicians ; and the mummy
is drawn on a sledge to the tomb, a priest standing on the front,
and a person pouring oil on the ground that tiio runners may
slip easily.

The setting; sun strikes into these chambers, so carefully pre-
pared for people of rank, of whom not a pinch of dust now
remains, and lights them \\^ with a certain cheer and hope.
We cannot make anything melancholy out of a tomb so high
and with such a lovely prospect from its front door. Tbf)
former occupants are unknown, but not more unknown than
the peasants we see on the fields below, still at the tasks
depicted in these sculptures. Thirty-five hundred years is nob
so very long ago ! Slowly we pick our way down the hill and
regain our floating home ; and, bidding farewell forever to
El Kab, drift down in the twilight. In the morning we are at
Esneh.

In Esneh the sound of the grindmg is never low. The town
is full of primitive ox-power mills in which the wheat is
ground, and there are always dahabeehs staying here for the

MODERN FACTS AND ANCIENT MEMORIES. 329

Tho

crew to bake their bread. Having already had one day of
Esneh, wo are tired of it, for it ia exactly like all other
Egyptian towns of its size ; we know all the possible combi-
nations of mud-hovels, crooked lanes, stifling dust, nakedness,
squalor. We are so accustomed to j)icking our way in the
street amid women and children sprawling in the dirt, that the
scene has lost its strangeness ; it is even (lifhcult to remember
that in other countries women usually keep in-doors and sit on
chairs.

The town is not without liveliness. It is half C.^opt, and
beggars^demand backsheesh on the ground tha4. they are Chris-
tians, and have a common interest with us. We wander
through the bazaars where there is nothing to buy, and into the
market-place, always the most interesting study in an unknown
city. The same wheat lies on the ground in heaps ; the same
roots and short stalks of the doora are tied in bundles and sold
for fuel, and cakes of dried manure for the like use ; people are
lying about in the sun in all picturesque attitudes, some curled
up and some on their backs fast asleep ; more are squatting be-
fore little heaps of corn or beans or some wilted "greens," or
dried tobacco-leaves and pipo-bowls ; children swarm and tun>-
ble about everywhere ; donkeys and camels pick their way
through the groups.

I spent half an hour in teaching a handsome young (Jopt
how to pronounce English words in his Arabic-English primer.
He was very eager to learn and very grateful for assistance.
We had a large and admiring crowd about us, who laughed at
every successful and still more at every unsuccessful attemjjt
on the part of the pupil, and repeated the English words them-
selves when they could catch the sound, — an exceedingly good-
natured lot of idlers. We found the people altogether pleasant,
some in the ingrained habit of bsgging, quick to tike a joke
and easily excited. While I had my scholar, a faiiktda of
music on two tambourines was performed for the amusement of
my comrade, whijh had also its ring of spectatoi-s watching
the effect of the monotonous thumi)ing, upon the grave howadji;
he was seated upon the mastabah of a shop, with all formality,
and enjoyed all the honors of the entertainment, as was proper,
since he bore the entire expense alone, — about five cents.

The coffee-shops of Esneh are many, some respectable and

330

MUMMIES AMD MOSLEMS.

otherH (lociJe.lly otherwise. The foiTii(»r are the least attractive,
being merely long anl dingy mud-apartments, in which the
visitorH usually sit on tlua floor and play at draughts. The
coffee-housai near the river have porticoes and pleasant terraces
in front, and look not unlike some picturesque SSwiss or Italian
wiae-shops". The attraction there seems to be the Ghawazees
or dancing-girls, of whom there is a large colony here, the
cjlony consisting of a tribe. All the family act as procurers
for the young women, who are usually married. Their dress is
an extraordinary combinL«ion of stripes and coloi-s, red and
yellow being favorites, which harmonize well with their dark,
often black, skin, and eyes heavily shaded with kohl. I sup-
])()se it must be admitted, in spite of their total want of any
womanly charm of modesty, that they are the finest-looking
women in Egypt, though many of them are ugly ; they certainly
are of a difterent type from the Egyptians, though not of a pure
type ; they boast that they have preserved themselves without
admixture with other peoples or tribes from a very rem >
period ; one thing is certain, their profession is as old as his
and their antiquity may entitle them to be considered an aris-
tocracy of vice. They say that their race is allied in origin to
that of the people called gypsies, with whom many of their
customs are common. The men are tinkers, blacksmiths, or
musicians, and the women are the ruling element in the band ;
the husband is subject to the wife. But whatever their origin,
it is admitted that their dance is the same as that with which
the dancing-women amused the Pharaohs, the same that the
Phoenicians carried to Gades and which Juvenal describes, and,
Mr. Lane thinks, the same by which the daiighter of Herodias
danced off the head of John the Baptist. Modified here and
there, it is the immemorial dance of the Orient,

Esneh has other attractions for the sailors of the Nile ; there
are the mahsheshehs, or shops where hasheesh is smoked ; an
attendant brings the "hubble-bubble " to the guests who are
lolling on the mastabah ; they inhale their portion, and then lie
down in a stupor, which is at every experiment one remove
nearer idiocy.

Still driftino;, giving us an opportunity to be on shore all the
morning. We visit the sugar establishment at Mutaneh, an^l
walk along the high bank under the shade of the acaciaf^ fov tv

MODERN FACTS AND ANCIENT MEMORIES. 33 1

couple of miles balow it. Nothing could he lovelier in this
8[)arkling imrniiig — th? silver-grey range of mountains across
the river and the level smiling land on our left. This is one of
the Viceroy's possessions, bought of one of his relations at a
price fixed by his highness. There are ton thousJiud acres of
arable land, of which some fifteen hundre<l is in sugar-cane, and
the rest in grain. The whol(^ is watered by a steam-pump,
which sends a vast stream of water inland, giving life to the
broad fields and the extensive groves, as well as to a village the
minaret of which we can see. It is a noble estate. Near the
factory are a palace and garden, somewhat in decay, as is usiiiil
in this country, but able to oflfer us roses and lemons.

The works are large, modem, with improved machinery for
crushing and boiling, and apparently well managed ; thei-e is
said to be one of the sixteen sugar-factories of the Khedive
which pays expenses ; perhaps this is the one. A groat quan-
tity of rum is distilled from ^he refuse. The vast field in the
rear, enclosed by a whitewa icd wall, presented a lively appear-
ance, with camels bringing in the cane and unloading it and
arranging it upon the endless trough for the crushers. In the
fiictory, the workmen wear little clothing, and are driven to
their task ; all the overseers march araonjr them kurbasli in
hand ; the sight of the black fellows treading about in the crys-
tallized sugar, while putting it up in sacks, would decide a
fastidious person to take her tea unsweetened.

The next morning we pass Erment without calling, satisfied
to take the word of othera that you may see there 'a portrait of
Cleopatra ; and by noon come to our old mooring-place at
Luxor, and add ours to the painted dahabecihs lounging in this
idle and gay resort.

During the day we enjoyed only one novel sensation. We
ate of the ripe fruit of the dora-palm. It tastes and smells
like stale gingerbread, made of sawdust instead of flour.

I do not know how long one could stay contentedly at
Thebes ; certainly a winter, if only to breathe the inspiring air,
to b:isk in the sun, to gaze, never sated, upon plains and soft
mountains, which climate and association clothe with hues of
beauty and romance, to yield for once to a leisure that is here
rebuked by no person and by no urgency of affairs ; perhaps
for yea,ra, if one seriously attempted a study of antiquity.

■an

■

332

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

The habit of leisure is at least two thousand yearp old here ;
at any rate, we fell into it without the least desire to resist its
spell. This is one of the eddies of the world in which the
niod?)rn hurry is unfelt. If it were not for the coughing steam-
boats and thi? occasional glimpse one has of a whisking file of
Cook's touriHts, Thebes would be entirely serene, and an ad-
mirable plact) of retirement.

It has 1 reputation, however, for a dubious sort of industry.
All along the river from Geezeh to Assouan, whenever a
spurious scarabjfius or a bogus image turned up, we would hear,
" Yes, make 'era in Luxor." As we drew near to this great
mart of aiiticpiities, the specification became more personal —
"Can't tell odzactly whether that make by Mr. Smith or by
that Moslem in Goorneh, over the other side."

The person named is well known to all Nile voyagers as
Antiquity Smith, and he has, th^^ngh I cannot say that he
enjoy^: the reputation hinted at above. How rauch of it is due
to the enmity of rival dealeis in relics of the dead, I do not
know ; but it must be evident to anyone that the very clever
forgeries of antiquities, which one sees, could only bo produced
by skilful and practised workmen. "We had some curiosity to
see a mar who has made the American name so familiar the
length of the Nile, for Mr. Smith is a citizen of the Unite''
States. For seventeen years he has been a voluntary exile
here, and most of the ' time the only foreigner resident in the
place ; long enough to give him a good title to the occupation
of any grotto he may choose.

In appearance Mr. Smith is somewhat like a superannuated
agent of the Tract Society, of the long, thin, shrewd, learned
Yankee type. Few men have enjoyed his advantages for sharp-
ening the wits. Born in Connecticut, reared in New Jersey,
trained for seventeen years among the Arabs and antiquity-
mongei*s of this region, the shaipest in the Orient, he ough<- to
have not only the learning attached to the best wrapped
mummy, but to be able to read the hieroglyphics on the most
inscrutable human face among the living.

Mr. Smith lives on the outskirts of the village, in a house,
surrounded by a garden, which u a kind of museum of the
property, not to say the bones, of tha early Egyptians.

" You seem to be retired from society here Mr. Smith," we
ventured to say.

MODERN FACTS AND ANCIENT MEMORIES. 333

((

Yes, for eight months of the year, I see nobody, literally
nobody. It is only during the winter that ptrangers come here."

" Isn't it lonesome 1 "

" A little, but you get used to it."
What do you do during the hottest months ] "
As near nothing as possible."

" How hot is it r'

" Sometimes the thermometer goes to 120" Fahrenheit. It
stays a long time at 100°. The worst of it is that the nights
are almost as hot as the days."

" How do you exist 1 "

" I keep very quiet, don't write, don't read anything that
requires the least thought. Seldom go out, never in the day-
time. In the early morning I sit a while on the veranda, and
about ten o'clock get into a big bath-tub, which I have on the
ground-floor, and stay in it nearly all day, reading some very
mild novel, and smoking the weakest tobacco. In the evening
I find it rather cooler outside the house than in. A white man
can't do anything here in the summer."

I did not say it to Mr. Smith, but I should scarcely like to
live in a country where one is obliged to be in water half the
year, like a pelican. We can have, however, from his experi-
ence some idea what this basin must have been in summer,
when its area was a crowded city, upon which the sun, rever-
berated from the incandescent limestone hills, beat in unceasing
fervor.

^fT'

:■!

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE FUTURE OF THE MUMMY S SOUL.

mm !'-

V? SHOULD like to give you a conception, however faint,
of the Tombs of the ancient Egyptians, for in tliem is

^ to be found the innermost secret of the character, the

belief, the immortal expectation of that accomplished and wise
people. A barren description of these places of sepulchre would
be of small service to you, for the key would be wanting, and
you would be simply confused by a mass of details and measure-
ments, which convey no definite idea to a person who does not
see them with his own eyes. I should not indeed be warranted
in attempting to say anything about these great Tombs at
Thebes, which are so completely described in many learned
volumes, did I not have the hope that some readers, who have
never had access to tlie works referred to, will be glad to know
something of that which most engaged the educated Egyptian
mind.

No doubt the most obvious and immediate interest of the
Tombs of old Egypt is in the sculptures that depict so minutely
the life of the people, represent all their occupations and asso-
ciations, are, in fact, their domestic and social history written
in stone. But it is not of this that I wish to speak here ; I
want to write a word upon the tombs and what they contain,
in their relation to the future life.

A study of the tombs of the diflferent epochs, chronologically
pursued, would show, I think, pretty accurately, the growth of
the Egyptian theology, its development, or rather its departure
from the primitive revelation of one God, into the monstrosities
of its final mixture of coarse polytheistic idolatry and the
vaguest pantheism. These two extremes are represented by

THE FUTURE OK THE MUMMy's SOUL. 335

the beautiful places of sepulchre of the fourth and fifth dynas-
ties at Geezeh and Memphis, in which all the sculptures relate
to the life of the deceased and no deities are represented ; and
the tombs of the twenty-fourth dynasty at Thebes which are so
largely covered with the gods and symbols of a religion become
wholly fantastic. It was in the twenty-sixth dynasty (just be-
fore the conquest of Egypt by the Persians) that the Funeral
Ritual received its final revision and additions — the sacred
chart of the dead which had grown, paragraph by paragraj)!!,
and chapter by chapter, from its brief and sim[)le form in the
earliest times.

The Egyptians had a considerable, and also a rich literature,
judging by the specimens of it preserved and by the value set
upon it by classical writers ; in which no department of writing
was unrepresented. The works which would seem of most value
to the Greeks were doubtless those on agriculture, astronomy,
and geometry ; the Egyptians wrote also on medicine, but the
science was empirical then as it is now. They bad an enomious
bulk, of historical literature, both in verae and prose, probably
as semi-fabulous and voluminous as the thousand great volumes
of Chinese history. They did not lack, either, in the depart-
ment of belles lettres ; there were poets, poor devils no doubt
who were compelled to celebrate in grandiose strains achieve-
ments they did not believe , and essayists and letter-writers,
graceful, philosophic, humorous. Nor was the field of fiction
unoccupied ; some of their lesser fables and romances have been
preserved ; they are however of a religious character, myths of
(toctrine, and it is safe to say, different from our Sunday-school
tales. The story of Cinderella was a religious myth. No one
has yet been fortunate enough to find an Egyptian novel, and
we may suppose that the quid-nuTics, the critics of Thebes, were
all the time calling upon the writers of that day to make an
effort and produce The Great Egyptian Novel.

The most important part, however, of the literature of Egypt
was the religious, and of that we have, in the Ritual or Book of
the Dead, probably the most valuable portion. It will be neces-
sary to refer to this more at length. A copy of the Funeral
Ritual, or " The Book of the Manifestation to Light " as it was
entitled, 01 some portion of it — probably according to the rank
or wealth of the deceased, was deposited with every mummy.

33^

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

11 n

In this point of view, as this document was supposed to be of
infinite service, a person's wealth would aid him in the next
world ; but there came a point in the peregrination of every soul
where absolute democracy was reached, and every man stood
for judgment on his character. There was a foreshadowing of
this even in the ceremonies of the burial. When the mummy,
after the lapse of the seventy days of mourning, was taken by
the friends to" the sacred lake of the nome (district), across
which it must be transported in the boat of Charon before it
could be deposited in the tomb, it was subjected to an ordeal.
Forty-two judges were assembled on the shore of the lake, and
if anyone accused the deceased, and could prove that he led an
evil life, he was denied burial. Even kings were subjected to
this trial, and those who had been wicked, in the judgment of
their people, were refused the honors of sepulchre. Cases were
probably rare where one would dare to accuse even a dead
Pharaoh.

Debts would sometimes keep a man out of his tomb, both
because he was wrong in being in debt, and because his tomb
was mortgaged. For it was permitted a man to mortgage not
only his family tomb but the mummy of his father, — a kind of
mortmain security that could not run away, but a ghastly pledge
to hold. A man's tomb, it would seem, was accounted his chie-
possession ; as the one he was longest to use. It was prepared
at an expense neyer squandered on his habitation in life.

You may see as many tombs as you like at Thebes, you may
spend weeks underground roaming about in vast chambers or
burrowing in zig-zag tunnels, until the upper- world shall seem
to you only a passing show ; but you will find little, here or
elsewhere, after the Tombs of the Kings, to awaken your keenest
interest ; and the exploration of a very few of these will suffice
to satisfy you. We visited these gigantic mausoleums twice ; it
is not an easy trip to theni, for they are situated in wild ravines
or gorges that lie beyond the western mountains which circle the
plain and ruins of Thebes. They can be reached by a footpath
over the crest of the ridge behind Medeenet Haboo ; the ancient
and usual road to them is up a valley that opens from the north.

The first time we tried the footpath, riding over the blooming
valley and leaving our donkeys at the foot of the ascent. I do
not know how high this mountain backbone may be, but it is

THE FUTURE OF THE MUMMY'S SOUL.

35;

,0 be of
tie next
ery soul
Lii stood
iwing of
nummy,
aken by
), across
before it
n ordeal,
ake, and
he led an
►jected to
Lgment of
!ases were
n a dead

)mb, both
3 his tomb
'tgage not
-a kind of
stly pledge
)d his chie-
13 prepared

life.

IS, you may
lambers or

shall seem
ble, here or

our keenest
will suffice

as twice ; it

wild ravines
^h circle the

f a footpath
the ancient

n the north.

he blooming

scent. I do

be, but it JB

not a pleasant one to scale. The path winds, but it is steep ;
the sun blazes on it ; every step is in pulverized limestone, that
seems to have been calcined by the intense heat, and rises in
irritating powder ; the mountain-side is white, chalky, glaring,
reflecting the solar rays with blinding brilliancy, and not a
breath of air comes to temper the furnace temperature. On
the summit, however, there was a delicious breeze, and we
stood long looking over the great basin, upon the temples, the
villages, the verdant areas of grain, the patches of desert, all
harmonized by tho wonderful light, and the purple eastern hills
— a view unsurpassed. The descent to the other side was
steeper than the ascent, and wound by precipices, on narrow
ledges, round sharp turns, through jagged gorges, amid rocks
stricken with th6 ashy hue of death, into the bottoms of inter-
secting ravines, a region scarred, blasted, scorched, a grej'
Gehenna, more desolate than imagination ever conceived

Another day we rode to it up the valley from the river, some
three miles. It is a winding, narrow valley, little more than
the bed of a torrent ; but as we advanced, windings became
shorter, the sides higher, fantastic precipices of limestone
frowned on us, and there was evidence of a made road and of
rocks cut away to broaden it. The scene is wilder, more
freakishly'savage, as we go on, and knowing that it is a funeral
way and that only, and that it leads to graves and to nothing
else, our procession imperceptibly took on tho sombre character
of an expedition after death, relieved by I know not what that
is droll in the impish forms of the crags, and the reaction of our
natures against this unnecessary accumulation of grim desola-
tion. The sun overhead was like a dish from which poured
liquid heat. I could feel the waves, I thought I could see it
running in streams down the crumbling ashy slopes ; but it was
not unendurable, for the air was pure and elastic and we had
no sense of weariness ] indeed, now and then a puflf of desert
air suddenly greeted ua as we turned a corner. The slender
strip of sky seen above the grey limestone was of astonishing
depth and color — a purple, almost like a night sky, but of un-
impeachable delicacy.

Up thid strange road were borne in tolemn state, as the
author of Job may have seen, ** the kings and counsellors qftko
earthf which built desolate places for tkeniselvfs ; " the journey
22

338

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

was a fitting prelude to an entry into the depths of these fright-
full hills. It must have been an awful march, awful in its
errand, awful in the desolation of the way ; and, in the heat of
summer, a mummy passing this way might have melted down
in his cercueuil before he could reach his cool retreat.

When we came to the end of the road, we see no tombs.
There are paths winding in several directions, round projecting
ridges and shoulders of powdered rock, but one might pass
through here and not know that he was in a cemetery. Above
the rubbish here and there we see, when they are pointed out,
holes in the rock. We climb one of these heaps, and behold the
entrance, maybe half-filled up, of one of the great tombs. This
entrance may have been laid open so as to disclose a portal cut
in the face of the rock and a smoothed space in front. Origi-
nally the tomb was not only walled up and sealed, but rocks
were tumbled down over it, so as to restore that spot in the hill
to its natural appearance. The chief object of every tomb was
to conceal the mummy from intrusion fore v jr. All sorts of
misleading dev;ces were resorted to for this purpose.

Twenty-five tombs (of the nineteenth and twentieth dynasties)
have been opened in this locality, but some of them belonged to
princes and other high functionaries ; in a valley west of this
are tombs of the eighteenth dynasty, and in still another gorge
are the tombs of the queens. These tombs all differ in plan, in
extent, in decoration ; they are alike in not having, as many
others elsewhere have, an exterior chamber where friends cou' 1
assemble to mourn ; you enter all these tombs by passing througji
an insignificant opening, by an inclined passage, directly into
the heart of the mountain, and there they open into various
halls, chambers, and grottoes. One of them, that of Sethi I.,
into whose furthermost and most splendid halls Belzoni broke
his way, extends horizontally four hundred and seventy feet
into the hill, and descends to a depth of one hundred and eighty
feet below the opening. The line of direction of the excavation
is often changed, and the continuation skilfully masked, so
that the explorer may be baffled. You come by several descents
and passages, through grand chambers and halls, to a hall vast
in eizB and magnificently decorated ; here is a pit, here is a
granite sarcophagus; here is the fitting resting-place of the
royal mummy. But it never occupied this sarcophagus.

THE FUTURE OF THE MUMMY'S SOUL.

339

SomeAvhere in this hall is a concealed passage. It was by
breaking through a wall of solid masonry in such a room,
smoothly stuccoed and elaborately painted with a continuation
of the scenes on the side-walls, that Belzoni discovered the
magnificent apartment beyond, and at last a chamber that was
never finished, where one still sees the first draughts of th«
figures for sculpture on the wall, and gets an idea of the bold
freedom of the old draughtsmen, in the long, graceful lines,
made at a stroke by the Egyptian artists. Were these inner
chambers so elaborately concealed, by walls and stucco and
painting, after the royal mummy was somewhere hidden in
them ] Or was the mummy deposited in some obscure lateral
pit, and was it the fancy of the king himself merely to make
these splendid and highly decorated inner apartments private 1

It is not uncommon to find rooms in the tombs unfinished.
The excavation of the tomb was begun when the king began to
reign ; it was a work of many years and might happen to be un-
finished at his death. He might himself become so enamoured
of his enterprise, and his ideas might expand in regard to his
requirements, as those of builders always do, that death would
find him still excavating and decorating. I can imagine that
if one thought he were building a house for eternity — or cycles
beyond human computation, — ^he would, up to his last moment,
desire to add to it new beauties and conveniences. And he
must have had a certain humorous satisfaction in his architectural
tiicks, for putting posterity on a false scent about his remains.

It would not be in human nature to leave undisturbed tombs
containing so much treasure as was buried with a rich or royal
mummy. The Greeks walked through all these sepulchres ;
they had already been rifled by the Persians ; it is not unlikely
that some of them had been ransacked by Egyptians, who could
appreciate jewelry and fine- work in gold as much as we do
that found by M. Mariette on the cold person of Queen Aah-
hotep. This dainty lady might have begun to flutter herself,
having escaped through so many ages of pillagij, that danger
was over, but she had not counted upon there coming an age
of science. It is believed that she was the mother of Amosis,
who expelled the Shepherds, and the wife of Kam^s, who long
ago went to his elements. After a repose here at Thebes, not
far from the temple of Koomeh, of about thirty-five hundred

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340

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

years, Science one day cried, " Aah-hotep of Drah-Aboo-l-neggah!
we want you for an Expooition of the induatries of all nations
at Paris ; put on your best things and come forth."

I suppose there is no one living who would not like to be the
first to break into an Egyptian tomb (and there are doubtless still
some undisturbed in this valley), to look upon its glowing
paintings before the air had impaired a tint, and to discover a
sweet and sleeping princess, simply encrusted in gems, and
cunning work in gold, of priceless value — in order that he might
add something to our knowledge of ancient art !

But the government prohibits all excavations by private
persons. You are permitted, indeed, to go to tiie common pits
and carry oJQT an armful of mummies, if you like ; but there is
no pleasure in the disturbance of this sort of mummy ; he may
perhaps be a late Roman ; he has no history, no real antiquity,
and probably not a scarabseus of any value about him.

When we pass out of the glare of the sun and descend the
incline down which the mummy went, we feel as if we had
begun his awful journey. On the walls are sculptured the
ceremonies and liturgies of the dead, the grotesque monsters of
the under-world, which will meet him and assail him on his
pilgrimage, the deities friendly and unfriendly, the tremendous
scenes of cycles of transmigration. Other sculptures there are,
to be sure, and in some tombs these latter predominate, in which
astronomy, agriculture, and domestic life are depicted. In one
chamber are exhibited trades, in another the kitchen, in another
arms, in another the gay boats and navigation of the Nile, in
another all the vanities of elegant house-furniture. But all
these only emphasize the fact that we are passing into another
world, and one of the grimmest realities. We come at length,
whatever other beauties or wonders may detain us, to the king,
the royal mummy, in the presence of the deities, standing
before Osiris, Athor, Phtah, Isis, Horus, A^iubis, and Nofre-
Atmoo.

Somewhere in this vast and dark mausoleum the mummy
has been deposited ; he has with him the roll of the Funeral
Kitual ; the sacred scarabaeus is on his breast ; in one chamber
bread and wine are set out 3 his bearers withdraw, the tomb is
closed, sealed, all trace of its entrance effaced. The mummy
begins his pilgrimage.

THE FUTURE OF THE MUMMY'S SOUL. 341

The Ritual * describes all the series of pilgrimage of the soul
in the lower- world ; it contains the hymns, prayers, and formula
for all funeral ceremonies and the worship of the dead ; it em-
bodies the philosophy and religion of Egypt ; the basis of it is
the immortality of the soul, that is of the souls of the justified,
but a clear notion of the soul's personality apart from the body
it does not give.

The book opens with a grand dialogue, at the moment of
death, in which the deceased, invoking the god of the lower
world, asks entrance to his domain ; a chorus of glorified souls
interposes for him ; the priest implores the divine clemency ;
Osiris responds, granting permisnion, and the soul enters Kar-
Neter, the land of the deaA ; and then renews his invocations.
Upon his entry he is dazzled by the splendor of the sun (which
is Osiris) in this subterranean region, and sings to it a magnifi-
cent hymn.

The second part traces the journeys of the soul. Without
knowledge, he would fail, and finally be rejected at the tribunal.
Knowledge is in Egyptian sbo, that is, "food in plenty " ; know-
ledge and food are identified in the Ritual ; " the knowledge of
religious truths is the mysterious nourishm ^nt that the soul
must carry with it to sustain it in its journeys and trials."
This necessary preliminary knowledge is found in the statement
of the Egyptian faith in the Ritual ; other information is given
him from time to time on his journey. But although his body
is wrapped up, and his soul instructed, he cannot move, he has
not the use of his limbs : and he prays to be restored to his
faculties that he may be able to walk, speak, eat, fight ; the
prayer granted, he holds his scarabeeus over his head, as a pass-
port, and enters Hades.

His way is at once beset by formidable obstacles ; monsters,
servants of Typhon, assail him; slimy reptiles, crocodiles,
serpents seek to devour him ; he begins a series of desperate
combats, in which the hero and his enemies hurl long and in-
sulting speeches at each other. Out of these combats he comes
victorious, and sings songs of triumph ; and after rest and
■refreshment from the Tree of Life, given him by the goddess
Nu, he begins a dialogue with the personification of the divine

*Lenorinant'8 Epitome,

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342

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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Light, who instructs him, explaining the sublime mysteries of
nature. Guided by this new Light, he ridvances, and enters
into a series of transformations, identifying himself with the
noblest divine symbols : he becomes a hawk, an angel, a lotus,
the god Ptah, a heron, etc.

Up to this time the deceased has been only a 8ha<le, an
eidolon, the simulacrum of the appearance of his body. He now
takes his body, which is needed for the rest of the journey ; it
was necessary therefore that it should be perfectly preserved by
the embalming process. He goes on to new trials and dangers,
to new knowledge, to severer examinations of his competence ;
he shuns wiles and delusions ; he sails down a subterranean
river and comes to the Elysian Fields, in face, to a reproduction
of Egypt with its camels and its industries, when the soul
engages in agriculture, sowing and reaping divine fniit for the
bread of knowledge which he needs now more than ever.

At length he comes to the last and severest trial, to the
judgment-hall where Osiris awaits him, seated on his throne,
accompanied by the forty-two assessors of the dead. Here his
knowledge is put to the test ; here he must give an account of his
whole life. He goes on to justify himself by declaring at first,
negatively, the crimes that he has not committed. " I have
not blasphemed," he says in the Ritual ; " I have not stolen ; I
have not smitten men privily ; I have not treated any person
with cruelty ; I have not stirred up trouble ; I have not been
idle ; I have not been intoxicated ; I have not made unjust
commandments ; I have shown no improper curiosity ; I have
not allowed my mouth to tell secrets ; I have not wounded any-
one ; I have not put anyone in fear ; I have not slandered any-
one ; I have not let envy gnaw my heart ; I have spoken evil
neither of the king nor of my father ; I have not falsely accused
anyone ; I have not withheld milk from the mouths of suck-
lings ; I have not practised any shameful crime ', I have not
calumniated a slave to his master."

The deceased then speaks of the good he has done in his life-
time ; and the positive declarations rise to a higher morality
than the negative ; among them is this wonderful sentence : —
" / have given food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, and clothes
to the naked."

The heart of the deceased, who is now called Osiris, is then

THE FUTURE OF THE MUMMY S SOUL.

343

weighed in the balance against "truth," and (if he is jiist) in
not found wanting; the forty-two assessors decide that hia
knowledge is sufficient, the god Osiris gives sentence of justifi-
cation, Thoth, (the Hermea of the Greeks, the conductor of
souls, tlie scribe of Osiris, and also the personification of litera-
ture or letters) records it, and the soul enters into bliss.

In a chamber at Dayr el Medeeneh you may see this judg-
ment-scene. Osiris is seated on his throne waiting the intro-
duction of souls into Amenti ; the child Harpocrates, with hia
finger on his lip, sits upon his crook ; behind are the forty-two
assessors. The deceased humbly approaches ; TLoth presents
his good deeds, written upon papyrus ; they are weighed in the
balance against an ostrich-feather, the symbol of truth ; on the
beam sits a monkey, the emblem of Thoth. The same conceit
of weighing the soul in judgment scenes was common to the
media; val church ; it is very quaintly represented in a fresco in
the porch of the church of St. I^awrence at Rome.

Sometimes the balance tipped the wrong way ; in the tomb
of Kameses VI. is sculptured a wicked soul, unjustified, retir-
ing from the presence of Osiris in the ignoble form of a pig.

The justified soul retired into bliss. What was this bliss ]
The third part of the Kitual is obscure. The deceased is Osiris,
identified with the sun, traversing with him, and as him, the
various houses of heaven ; afterwards he seems to pass into an
identification with all the deities of the pantheon. This is a
poetical flight. The justified soul wjis absorbed into the intel-
ligence from which it emanated. For the wicked there was
annihilation ; they were destroyed, decapitated by the evil
powers. In these tombs you will see pictures of beheadings at
the block, of dismembered bodies. It would seem that in some
cases the souls of the wicked returned to the earth and entered
unclean animals. We always had a suspicion, a mere idle
fancy, that a chameleon, which we had on our boat, which had
a knowing and wicked eye, had been somebody.

The visitor's first astonishment here is to find such vast and
rich tombs, underground temples in fact, in a region so unutter-
ably desolate, remote from men, to be reached only by a painful
pilgrimage. He is bewUdered by the variety and beauty of the
decorations, the grace and freedom of art, the minute finish of
birds and flowers, the immortal loveliness of faces her© and

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MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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there ; and he cannot understand that all this was not made for
exhibition, that it was never intended to be seen, that it was
not seen except by the workmen and the funeral attendants,
and that it was then sealed away from human eyes forever.
Think of the years of labor expended, the treasure lavished in
all this gorgeous creation, which was not for men to see ! Has
human nature changed 1 Expensive monuments and mauso-
leums are built now as they have been in all the Christian era;
but they are never concealed from the public view. I cannot
account for these extraordinary excavations, not even for one
at the Assaseef, which extends over an acre and a quarter of
ground, upon an ostentation of wealth, for they were all closed
from inspection, and the very entrances masked. The builders
must have believed in the mysteries of the under- world, or they
would not have expended so much in enduring representations
of them; they must have'believed also that the soul had need of
such a royal abode. Did they have the thought that money
lavished in this pious labor would benefit the soul, as much as
now-a-days legacies bequeathed to missions and charities.

On o\ir second visit to these tombs we noticed many details
that had escaped us before. I found sculptured a cross of equal
arms, three or four inches long, among other sacred symbols.
We were struck by the peculiar whiteness of the light, the sort
of chalkiness of the sunshine ps we saw it falling across the
entrance of a tomb from whi . . we were coming, and by the
lightness of the shadows. We illuminated some of the in-
teriors, lighting up the vast sculptured and painted halls and
corniced chambers, to get the tout ensemble of colours and
figures. The colours came out with startling vividness on the
stuccoed, white walls, and it needed no imagination, amidst
these awful and bizarre images and fantastic scenes, to feel that
we were in a real under-world. And all this was created for
darkness !

But these chambers could neither have been cut nor deco-
rated without light, and bright light. The effect of the rich
ceiling and sides could not have been obtained without strong
light. .- I believe that these rooms, as well as the dark and
decorated chambers in the temples, must have been brilliantly
illuminated on occasion ; the one at the imposing funeral cere-
monies, the other at the temple services. What li^ht was

THE FUTURE OF THE MUMMY'S SOUL.

345

used ] The Bculptures give us no information. But the light
must have been not only a very brilliant but a pure flame, for
these colours were fresh and unsullied when the tombs were
opened. However these chambers wore lighteti, some illumina-
ting substance was u.sed that produced no smoke, nor formed
any gas that could soil the whiteness of the painted lotus.

In one of these brilliant apartments, which is finished with
a carved and painted cornice, and would servo for a dmwing-
room with the addition of some furniture, we almost had a
feeling of comfort and domesticity — as long as the illumination
lasted. When that flashed out, and wo were left in that thick
darkness of the grave which one can feel gathering itself in
folds about him, and which the twinkling candles in our hands
punctured but did not scatter, and we groped our way, able to
Bee only a step ahead and to examine only a yard square of
wall at a time, there was something terrible in this subterranean
seclusion. And yet, this tomb was intended as the p'ace of
abode of the deceased owner during the long ages before soul
and body, united, should be received into bliss ; here were
buried with him no doubt some portions of his property, at
least jewels and personal ornaments of value ; here were pic-
tured his possessions and his occupations while on earth ; here
were his gods, visibly cut in stone ; here were spread out, in
various symbols and condensed writing, the precepts of pro-
found wisdom and the liturgies of the book of the dead. If at
any time he could have awakened (as no doubt he supposed he
should), and got rid of his heavy granite sarcophagus (if his
body ever lay in it) and removed the myrrh and pitch from his
person, he would have found himself in a most spacious and
gay mansion, of which the only needs were food, light, and air.

While remembering, however, the grotesque conception the
Egyptians had of the next world, it seems to me that the deco-
rators of these tombs often let their imaginations run riot, and
that not every fantastic device has a deep signification. Take
the elongated figures on the ceiling, stretching fifty feet across,
the legs bent down on one side and the head the other ; or such
a picture as this : — a sacred boat having a crocodile on the deck,
on the back of the crocodile a human head, out of the head a
long stick protruding which bears on its end the crown of Lower
Egypt; or this conceit: — a small boat ascending a cataract.

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346

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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bearing a huge beetle (scarabjeus) having a rani's head, and
sitting on each side of it a bird with a human head. I think
much of this work is pure fancy.

In these tombs the snake plays a great part, the snake purely
coiled or extended, carried in processions, his length borne on
the shoulders of scores of priests, crawling along the walls in
hideous convolutions ; and, again, the snake with two, three,
and four heads, with two and six feet ; the snake with wings ;
the snake coiled about the statues of the gods, about the images
of the mummies, and in short everywhere. The snake is the
most conspicuous figure.

The monkey is also numerous, and always pleasing ; I think
he is the comic element of hell, though perhaps gravely meant.
He squats about the lower- world of the heathen, and gives it an
almost cheerful and debonnair aspect. It is certainly refreshing
to meet his self-possessed, gi*ave, and yet friendly face amid all
the serpents, crocodiles, hybrids, and chimerical monsters of the
Egyptian under-world.

Conspicuous in ceremonies represented in the tombs and in
the temples is the sacred boat or ark, reminding one always, in
its form and use and the sacredness attached to it, of the
Jewish Ark. of the Covenant. The arks contain the sacred
emblems, and sometimes the beetle of the sun, overshadowed
by the wings of the goddess of Thmei or Truth, which suggest
the cherubim of the Jews. Mr. Wilkinson notices the fact,
also, that Thmei, tlie name of the goddess who was worshipped
under the double character of Truth and Justice, is the origin
of the Hebrew Thwmmim — a word implying " truth" ; this
Thummim (a symbol perfectly comprehensible now that we
know its origin) which was worn only by the high priest of the
Jews, was, like the Egyptian figure, which thearchjudge put on
when he sat at the trial o':' a case, studded with precious stones
of various colors.

Before we left the valley we entered the tomb of Menephtah
(or Merenphtah), and I broke off a bit of crumbling limestone
from the inner cave as a memento uf the Pharaoh of the Exodus.
I used to suppose that this Pharaoh was drowned in the Red
Sea ; but he could not have been if ho was buried here ; and
here certainly is his tomb. It is the opinion of scholars that
Menephtah long survived the Exodus. There is nothing to con-

THE FUTURE OF THE MUMMY'S SOUL.

347

flict with this in the Biblical description of the disaster to
the Egyptians. It says that all Pharaoh's host was drowned,
but it does not say that the king was drowned ; if he had been,
so important a fact, it is likely, would have been emphasized.
Joseph came ' uto Egypt during the reign of one of the usurping
Shepherd Kings, Apepi probably. Their seat of empire was at
Tanis, where their tombs had been discovered. The Israelites
were settled in that part of the Delia. After some generations,
the Shepherds were expelled, and the ancient Egyptian race of
kings was reinstated in the dominion of all Egypt. This is
probably the meaning of the passage, " now there arose up a
new king over Egypt, which knew not Joseph." The narrative
of the Exodus seems to require that the Pharaoh should be at
Memphis. The kings of the nineteenth dynasty, to which
Menephtah belonged, had the seat of their empire at Thebes ;
he alone of that dynasty established his court at Memphis.
But it was natui-al that he should build his tomb at Thebes.

We went again and again to the temples on the west side and
to the tombs there. I never wearied of the fresh morning ride
across the green plain, saluting the battered Colossi as we
passed under them, and galloping (don't, please, remember that
we were mounted on donkeys) out upon the desert. Not all the
crowd of loping Arabs with glittering eyes and lying tongues,
who attended us, oflfering their dead merchandise, could put me
out of humor. Besides, there were always slender, pretty, and
cheerful little girls running beside us with their water-koollehs.
And may I never forget the baby Charon on the vile ferry-
boat that sets us over one of the narrow streams. He is the
cuuningest specimen of a boy in Africa. His small brothers
pole the boat, but he is steersman, and stands aft, pushing about
the tiller, which is level with his head. He is a mere baby as
to stature, and is in fact only four years old, but he is a perfect
beauty, even to the ivory teeth which his engaging smile dis-
closes. And such self-possession and self-respect. He is a man
of business, and minds his helm, " the dear lif.tle scrap," say
the ladies. When we give him some evidently unexpected
coppers, his eyes and whole face beam with pleasure, and in the
sweetest voice he says, Ket'ther kMyi'ak, keteer (" Thank you
very much indeed").

I yield myself to, but cannot account for, the fascination of this

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34«

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

^Jll^ ^

If H

, ;ll 1 '

III

rast field of desolation, this waste of crumbled limestone,
gouged into ravines and hills, honeycombed with tombs and
mummy-pits, strewn with the bones of ancient temples, bright-
ened by the glow of suiishine on elegant colonnades and sculp-
tured walls, saddened b; ' the mud-hovels of the fellaheen. The
dust is abundant, and the glare of the sun reflected from the
high, white precipices behind is something unendurable.

Of the tombs of the Assaseef, we went far into none, except
that of the priest Petamunoph, the one which occupies, with
its many chambers and passages, an acre and a quarter of
underground. It was beautifully carved and painted through-
out, but the inscriptions are mostly illegible now, and so fouled
by bats as to be uninteresting. Our guide said truly, " bats
not too much good for 'scriptions." In truth, the place smells
horribly of bats — an odor that will come back to you with sick-
ening freshness days after — and a strong stomach is required
for the exploration.

Even the chambers of some of the temples here were used in
later times as receptacles for mummies. The novel and most
interesting temple of Dayr el Bahree did not esch,pe this indig-
nity. It was built by Amun-noo-het, or Hatasoo as we more
familiarly call her, and like everything else that this spirited
woman did, it bears the stamp of originality and genius. The
structure rises up the side of the mountain in terraces, temple
above temple, and is of a most graceful architecture ; its varied
and brilliant sculptures must be referred to a good period of
art. Walls that have recently been laid bare shine with extra-
ordinary vividness of color. The last chanibers in the rock are
entered by arched doorways, but the arch is in appearance, not
in principle. Its structure b: peculiar. Square stones were
laid up on each side, the one a'jove lapping over the one beneath
until the last two met at the top ; the interior corners were
then cut away, leaving a perfect round arch; but there is no
lateral support or keystone. In these interior rooms were
depths on depths of mummy-wrappings and bones, and a sick-
ening odor of dissolution.

There are no tombs better known than those of Sheykh el
Koorneh, for it is in them that so much was discovered reveal-
ing the private life, the trades, the varied pursuits of the
Egyptians. W© entered those called the most interesting, but

THE FUTURE OF THE MUMMY'S SOUL. ^49

►o as we more

they are so smoked, and the paintings are so defaced, that we
had small satisfaction in them. Some of the*n are full of
mummy-cloths and skeletons, and smell of mortality to that
degree that it needs all the wind of the desert to take the scent
of death out of our nostrils.

Ail this plain and its mounds and hills are dug over ami
pawed over for remnants of the dead, scarabaji, beads, images,
tilnkets, sacred and profane. It is the custom of some travel-
lers to descend into the horrible and common mummy-pits,
treading about among the dead, and bring up in their arms the
body of some man, or some woman, who may have been, for
aught the traveller knows, not a respectable person. I confess
to an uncontrollable aversion to all of them, however well pre-
served they are. The present generation here (I was daily be-
set by an Arab who wanted always to sell me an arm or a foot,
from whose eager, glittering eyes I seemed to see a ghoul look-
ing out,) lives by plundering the dead. A singular comment
upon our age and upon the futile hope of security for the body
after death, even in the strongest house of rock.

Old Petamunoph, with whom be peace, builded better than
he knew ; he excavated a vast hotel for bats. Perhaps he
changed into bats himself in the course of his transmigraticns,
and in this state is only able to see dimly, as bats do, and to
comprehend only partially, ?s an old Egyptian might, our
modern civilization.

i »

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Hit

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CHAPTER XXX.

FAREWELL TO THEBES.

ttiOCIAL life at Thebes, in the season, is subject to pecu-
m) liar conditions. For one thing, you suspect a commer-
iSi^ cial element in it. Back of all the politeness of native
consuls and resident effendis, you see spread out a collection of
antiques, veritable belongings of the ancient Egyptians, the
furniture of their tombs, the ornaments they wore when they
began their lasL and most solemn journey, the very scarabaeus,
cut on the back in the likeness of the mysterious eye of Osiris,
which the mummy held over his head when he entered the
ominously silent land of Kar-Neter, the intaglio seal which he
always used for his signature, the " charms" that he wore at his
guard-chain, the necklaces of his wife, the rings and bracelets
of his daughter.

These are very precious things, but you may have them —
such is the softening influence of friendship — for a trifle of
coined gold, a mere trifle, considering their value and the im-
possibility of replacing them. What are two, five, even ten
pounds for a genuine bronze figure of Isis, for a sacred cat, for
a bit of stone, wrought four thousand years ago by an artist
into the likeness of the immortal beetle, carved exquisitely with
the name of the Pharaoh of that epoch, a bit of stone that some
Egyptian wore at his chain during his life, and which was laid
upon his breast when he was wrapped up for eternity ! Here
in Thebes, where the most important personage is the mummy
and the Egyptian past is the only real and marketable article,
there comes to be an extraordinary value attach(jd to these
trinkets of mortality. But when the traveller gets away, out
of this charmed circle of enthusiasm for antiquity, away from

FAREWELL TO THEBES.

351

lave them —

this fictitious market in sentiment, among the cold people of the
world who know not Joseph, and only half believe in Potiphar,
and think the little blue images of Osiris ugly, and the mummy-
beads trash, and who never heard of the scarabajus, when, I say,
he comes with his load of antujnes into this air of scepticism,
he finds that he has invested in a property no longer generally
current, objects of vertu for which Egypt is actually the best
market. And if he finds, as he may, that a good part of his
purchases are only counterfeits of the antique, manufactured
and doctored to give them an appearance of age, he experiences
a sinking of the heart mingled with a lively admiration of the
adroitness of the smooth and courtly Arabs of Luxor.

Social life is also peculiar in the absence of the sex that is
thought to add a charm to it in other parts of the world. We
receive visits of ceremony or of friendship from the chief citi-
zens of the village, we entertain them at dinner, but they are
never accompanied by their wives or daughters ; we call at
their houses and are feted in turn, but the light of the harem
never apj^ears. Dahabeehs of all nations are arriving and de-
parting, there are always several moored before the town, some
of them are certain to have lovely passengers, and the polite
Arabs are not insensible to the charm of their society : there
is much visiting constantly on the boats ; but when it is return-
ed at the houses of the natives, at an evening entertainment,
the only female society offered is that of the dancing-girls.

Of course, when there is so much lingual difficulty in inter-
course, the demonstrations of civility must be mainly overt, and
in fact they are mostly illuminations and " fantasias." Almost
every boat once in the course of its stay, and usually upon some
natal day or in honor of some arrival, will be beautifully illu-
minated and display fireworks. No sight is prettier than a
dahabeeh strung along its decks and along its masts and yards
with many colored lanterns. The people of Luxor respond with
illuminations in the houses, to which they add barbarous music
and the kicking and posturing of the Ghawazees. In this con-
sists the gayety of the I^uxor season.

Perhaps we reach the high water-mark of this gayety in an
entertainment given us by Ali Moorad Effendi, the American
consular agent, in return for a dinner on the dahabeeh. Ali is
of good Bedawee blood ; and has relations at Karnak enough

f 11

35^

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

r» '!;:

i M

to fill an opera-house ; we esteemed him one of the most trust-
worthy Arabs in the country, and he takes great pains and
pleasure in performing all the duties of his post, which are
principally civilities to American travellers. The entertain-
ment consisted of a dinner and a "fantasia." It was under-
stood that it was to be a dinner in Arab style.

We go at sunset when all the broad surface of the Nile is
like an opal in the reflected light. The consul's house is near
the bank of the river, and is built against the hill, so that we
climb two or tliree narrow stairways before we get to the top
of it. The landing-places of the stairways are terraces over-
looking the river ; and the word terrace has such a grand air
that it is impossible to describe this house without making it
appear better than it is. The consul comes down to the bank
to receive us ; we scramble up its crumbling face. We ascend
a stairway to the long consular reception-room, where we sit for
half an hour, during which coffee is served, and we get the last
of the glowing sunset from the windows.

We are then taken across a little terrace, up another flight of
steps to the main house, which is seen to consist of a broad hall
with small rooms on each side. No other members of the con-
sul's family appear, and, regarding Arab etiquette, we make no
enquiry for them. We could not commit a greater breach of
good-breeding than to ask after the health of any members of
the harein. Into one of the little rooms we are shown for
dinner. It is very small, only large enough to contain a divan
and a round table capable of seating eight persons. The only
ornaments of the room are an American flag, and a hand-mirror
hung too high for anyone to see herself in it. The round table
is of metal, hp rumored out and turned at the edge, — a little
barrier that prevents anything rolling off. At each place are
a napkin and a piece of bread — no plate or knives or forks.

Deference is so far paid to European prejudice that we sit in
chairs, but I confess that when I am to eat with my fingers I
prefer to sit on the ground — the position in a chair is too formal
for what is to follow. When we are seated, a servant brings
water in a basin and ewer, and a towel, and we wash our right
hands — the left hand is not to be used. Soup is first served.
The dish is placed in the middle of the table, and we are given
spoons with which each one dips in, and eats rapidly or slowly

1 !

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FAREWELL TO THEBES.

353

the Nile is
lOuse is near
I, so that we

according to habit ; but there is necessarily some deliberation
about it, for we cannot all dip at once. The soup is excellent,
and we praise it, to the great delight of our host, who shows
his handsome teeth and says tyeb ; all that we uave hitherto
said was tyeb, we now add kateSr. More smiles ; and claret is
brought in — another concession to foreign tastes.

After the soup, we rely upon our fingers, under the instruc-
tions of Ali and an Arab guest. The dinner consists of many
courses, each article served separately, but sometimes placed
upon the table in three or four dishes for the convenience of
the convive in reaching it. There are meats and vegetables of
all sorts procurable, fish, beef, mutton, veal, chickens, turkeys,
quails and other small birds, pease, beans, salad, and some com-
positions which defied such analysis as one could make with his
thumb and finger. Our host prided himself upon having a
Turkish ai-tist in the kitchen, and the cooking was really good
and toothsome, even to the pastry and sweetmeats ; we did not
accuse him of making the champagne.

There is no difilculty in getting at the meats ; we tear off
strips, mutually assisting each other in pulling them asunder ;
but there is more trouble about such dishes as peas and a
puree of something. One hesitates to make a scoop of his four
fingers, and plunge in ; and then it is disappointing to an un-
skilled person to see how few peas he can convey to his mouth
at a time. I sequester and keep by me the breast-bone of a
chicken, which makes an excellent scoop for small vegetables
and gravies, and I am doing very well with it, until there is a
universal protest against the unfairness of the device.

Our host praises everything himself in the utmost simplicity,
and urges us to partake of each dish ; he is continually picking
out nice bits from the dish and conveying them to the mouth of
his nearest guest. My friend, who sits next to Ali, ought to
be grateful for this delicate attention, but I fear he is not. The
fact is that Ali, by some accident, in fishing, hunting, or war,
has lost the tip of the index finger of his right hand, the very
hand that conveys the delicacies to my friend's mouth. And
he told me afterwards that he felt each time he was fed that he
had swallowed ..hat piece of the consul's finger.

During the feast there is music by performers in the adjoining
hall, music in minor, barbaric strains insisted on with the monot-

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354

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

onous nonchalance of the Orient, and calculated, I should say,
to excite a person to ferocity, and to make feeding with his
fingers a vent to his aroused and savage passions. At the end
of the courses water is brought for us to lave our hands, and
coffee and chibooks are served.

" Dinner very nice, very fine," says Ali, speaking the common
thought which most hosts are too conventional to utter.

" A splendid dinner, O ! consul ; I have never seen such an
one in America."

The Ghawazees have meantime arrived ; we hear a burst of
singing occasionally with the wail af the instruments. The
dancing is to be in the narrow hall of the house, which is lighted
as well as a room can be with so many dusky faces in it. At
the far end are seated on the floor the musicians, with two
stringed instruments, a tambourine and a darabooka. That
which answers for a violin has two strings of horsehair, stretched
over a cocoanut-shell ; the bowstring, which is tightened by the
hand as it is drawn, is of horsehair. The music is certainly
exciting, harassing, plaintive, complaining ; the very monotony
of it would drive one wild in time. Behind the musicians is a
dark cloud of turbaned servants and various privileged retainers
of the house. In front of the musicians sit the Ghawazees, six
girls, and an old woman with parchment skin and twinkling
eyes, who has been a famous dancer in her day. They are
waiting a little, wearily, and from time to time one of them
throws out the note or two of a song, as if the music were
beginning to work in her veins. The spectators are grouped at
the entrance of the hall ai^d seated on chairs down each side,
leaving but a narrow space for the dancers between ; and there
are dusky faces peering in at the door.

Before the dance begins we have an opportunity to sec what
these Ghawazees are like, a race which prides itself upon
preserving a pure blood for thousands of years, and upon an
ancestry that has always followed the most disreputable pro-
fession. These girls are aged say from sixteen to twenty ; one
appears much older and looks exactly like an Indian squaw,
but, strange to say, her profile is also exactly that of Rameses,
as we see it in the sculptures. The leading dancer is dressed
in a flaring gown of red and figured silk, a costly Syrian dress ;
■he is fat, rather comely, but coarsely uninteresting, although

FAREWELL TO THEBES.

355

hould say,

with his

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lands, and

le common

ber.

en such an

' a burst of
ents. The
h is lighted
in it. At
with two
oka. That
r, stretched
ened by the
is certainly
Y monotony
isicians is a
ed retainers
iwazees, six
I twinkling
They are
ine of them
music were
grouped at
a each side,
and there

to see what
itself upon
nd upon an
)utable pro-
iventy ; one
ian squaw,
f Rameses,
is dressed
rrian dress;
although

she is said to hare on more jewelry than any other dancing-girl
in Egypt ; her abundant black hair is worn long and in strands
thickly hung with gold coins ; her breast is covered with neck-
laces of gold-work and coins ; and a mass of heavy twinkling
silver ornaments hangs about her waist. A third dancer is in an
almost equally striking gown of yellow, and wears also much
coin ; she is a Pharaonic beauty, with a soft skin and the real
Oriental eye and profile. The dresses of all are plainly cut, and
straight-waisted, like an ordinary calico gown of a milkmaid.
They wear no shawls or any other Oriental wrappings, and
dance in their stocking-feet.

At a turn in the music, the girl in red &iid the girl in yellow
stand up ; for an instant they raise their castanets till the time
of the music is caught, and then start forward, with less of
languor and a more skipping movement than we expected ; and
they are not ungraceful as they come rapidly down the hall,
throwing the arms aloft and the feet forward, to the rattle of
the castanets. These latter are small convex pieces of brass,
held between the thumb and finger, which have a click like the
rattle of the snake. In mid-advance they stop, face each other,
chassee, retire, and again come further forward, stop, and the
pecular portion of the dance begins, which is not dancing at all,
but a quivering, undulating motion given to the body, as the
girl stands with feet planted wide apart. The feet are still, the
head scarcely stirs, except with an almost imperceptible snake-
like movement, but the muscles of the body to the hips quiver
in time to the monotonous music, in muscular thrills, in waves
running down, and at intervals extending below the waist.
Sometimes one side of the body quivers while the other is per-
fectly still, and then the whole frame,«for a second, shares in
the ague. It is certainly an astonishing muscular performance,
but you could not call it either graceful or pleasing. Some
people see in the intention of the dance a deep symbolic mean-
ing, something about the Old Serpent of the Nile, with its
gliding, quivering movement and its fatal fascination. Others
see in it only the common old Snake that was in Eden. I
suppose in fact that it is the old and universal Oriental dance,
the chief attraction of which never was its modesty.

After standing for a brief space, with the body throbbing
and quivering, the castanets all the time held above the head

35<5

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

in sympathetic throbs, the dancers start forward, face each
other, pass, pirouette, and take some dancing steps, retire, ad-
vance, and repeat the earthquake performance. This is kept
up a long time, and with wonderful endurance, without change
of figure ; but sometimes the movements are more rapid, when
the music hastens, and more passion in show n. But five
minutes of it is as good as an hour. Evidently the dance is
nothing except with a master, with an actress who shall abai .
don herself to the tide of feeling which the music suggests,
and throw herself into the full passion of it ; who knows how
to tell a story by pantomime, and to depict the woes of love
and despair. All this needs gi-aco, beauty, and genius. Few
dancing-girls have either. An old resident of Luxor com-
plains that the dancing is not at all what it was twenty years
ago ; that the old fire and art seem to be lost.

•'The old hag, sitting there on the floor, was asked to exhibit
the ancient style ; she consenter' and danced marvelously for
a time, but the performance be .ne in the end too shameful
to be witnessed."

I fancy that if the dance has gained anything in propriety,
which is hard to believe, it has lost in spirit. It might bo
passionate, dramatic, tragic. But it needs genius to make it
anything more than a suggestive and repulsive vulgarity.

During the intervals, the girk sing to the music ; the sing-
ing is very wild and barbaric. The song is in praise of the
Night, a love-song consisting of repeated epithets : —

" the Night ! nothing is so lovely .is the Night !
O my heart ! my soul ! my liver :
My love he passed my door, and saw me not ;
the night ! How lovely is the night !"

The strain is minor, and there is a wail in the voices which
stridently chant to the twanging strings. Is it only the echo
of ages of sin in these despairing voices 1 How melancholy it
all becomes ! The girl in yellow, she of the oblong eyes,
straight nose and Itigh type of Oriental beauty, dances down
alone ; she is slender, she has the charm of grace, her eyes never
wander to the spectators. Is there in her soul any fnint con-
tempt for herself or for the part she plays ] Or is the historic
consciousness of the antiquity of both her profession and her
sin strong enough to throw yet the lights of illusion over such

FAREWELL TO THEBES.

357

a performance 1 Evidently the fat girl i.i red is a prey to no
Huch misgiving, as she comes bouncing down the line, andflin^
lierself into bor ague tit.

" Ijook out, the hippopotamub !" cries Abd-el-Atti, " I 'fraid
she kick me."

While the dance gocH on, pipes, coffee, and brandy are fre-
quently passed ; the dancers swallow the brandy readily. The
liouse is illuminated, and the entertainment ends with a few
rockets from the terrace. This is a full-blown " fantasia."

As the night is still young and the moon is full, we decide
to efface, as much as may be, the vulgarities of modem Egypt,
by a vision of the ancient, and, taking donkeys, we ride to
Karnak.

For myself I prefer day to night, and abounding sunshine to
the most generous moonlight ; there is always some disappoint-
ment in the night effect in ruins, under the most favorable
conditions. But I have great deference to that poetic yearning
for half-light, which leads one to grope about in the heavy
night-shadows of a stately temple ; there is no bird more worthy
of respect than the round-eyed attendant of Pallas- Athene.

And it cannot be denied that there is something mysterious
and almost ghostly in our silent night ride. For once, our
attendants fall into the spirit of the adventure, keep silent, and
are only shades at our side. Not a word or a blow is heard as
we emerge from the^dark lanes of Luxor and come out into the
yellow light of the plain ; the light seems strong and yet the
plain is spectral, small objects become gigantic, and although
the valley is flooded in radiance, the end of our small procession
is lost in dimness. Nothing is real, all things take fantastic
forms, and all proportions are changed. One moves as in a*
sort of spell, and it is this unreality which becomes painful.
The old Egyptians had need of little imagination to conjure up
the phantasmagoria of the under world ; it is this without the
sun.

So far as we can see it, the great mass of stone is impressive
as we approach — I suspect because we know how vast and solid
it is ; and the pylons never seemed so gigantic before. We do
our best to get into 'a proper frame of mind, by wandering
apart, and losing ourselves in the heavy shadows. And for
moments we succeed. It would have been the shame of oui'

358

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

lives not to have seen Kamak by moonlight. The Great Hall,
with its enormous columns planted close together, it is more
difficult to see by night than by day, but Buch glimpses as we
have of it, the silver light slanting through the stone forest and
the heavy shadows, are profoundly imprc sive. I climb upon
a tottering pylon where I can see over the indistinct field and
chaos of stone, and look down into the we' rd and half-illumined
Hall of Columns. In this isolated situation I am beginning to
fall into the classical meditation of Marius at Carthage, when
another party of visitors arrives, and their donkeys, meeting
our donkeys in the centre of the Great Hall, begin (it is their
donkeys that begin) such a braying as never was heard before ;
the challenge is promptly responded to, and a duet ensues and
is continued and runs into a chorus, so hideous, so unsanctified,
so wretchedly attuned, and out of harmi ay with history,
romance, and religion, that sentiment takes wings with silence
and flies from the spot.

We can pick up again only some scattered fragments of
emotion by wandering alone in the remotest nooks. But we
can go nowhere that an Arab, silent and gowned, does not
glide from behind a pillar or step out of the shade, staflf in hand,
and stealthily accompany us. Even the donkey-boys have culti-
vated their sensibilities by association with other nocturnal
pilgrims, and encourage our gush of feeling by remarking in a
low voice, " Kamak very good." One of them, who had ap-
parently attended only the most refined an8 appreciative, keeps
repeating at each 'point of view, " Exquisite ! "

As I am lingering behind the company, a shadow glides up
to me in the gloom of the great columns, with " good evening ;"
and, when I reply, it draws nearer, and, in confidential tones,
whispers, as if it knew that the moonlight visit was different
from that by day, ** Backsheesh."

There is never wanting something to do at Luxor, if all the
excursions were made. There is always an exchange of
courtesies between dahabeehs, calls are made and dinners given.
In the matter of visits the naval etiquette prevails, and the last
comei: makes the first call. But il' you do not care for the
society of travellers, you can at least make one of the pictur-
esque idlers on the bank ; you may chance to see a display of Arab
horsemanship ; you may be entertained by some new device of

FAREWELL TO THEBES.

359

the enrioftitj-mongen ; and there always remain the "collec-
tions " of the dealera to examine. One of the best of them is
that of the (J( iman consul, who rejoices in the odd name of
Todroiis PauloH, which reappears in his son as Moharb Todrous;
a Copt who enjoys the reputation among Moslems of a trust-
worthy man — which probably means that a larger proportion of
his antiquities are genuine than of theirs. If one were dis-
posed to moralize there is abundant field for it here in I^uxor.
1 wonder if there is an insatiable demoralization connected
with tlte dealing in antiquities, and especially in the relics of
the departed. When a person, as a business, obtains his
merchandise from the unresisting clutch of the dead, in viola-
tion of the firman of his ruler, does he add to his wickedness
by manufacturing imitations and selling them as real 1 And
what of the traveller who encourages both trades by buying 1

One night the venerable Mustapha Aga gave a grand enter-
tainment, in honor of his reception of a firman from the Sultan,
who sent him a decoration of diamonds set in silver. Nothing
in a Moslem's eyes could exceed the honor of this recognition
by the Khalif, the successor of the prophet. It was an occasion
of religious as well as social demonstration of gratitude. There
was service, with the reading of the Koran in the mosque, for
the faithful only ; there was a slaughter of sheep with a distri-
bution of the mutton among the poor ; and there was a fantasia
at the residence of Mustapha (the house built into the columns
of the temple of Luxor), to which everybody was bidden. There
had been an arrival of Cook's Excursionists by steamboat, and
there must have been as many as two hundred foreigners at the
entertainment in the course of the evening.

The way before the house was arched with palms and hung
with colored lanterns ; bands of sailors from the dahabeehs sat
in front, strumming the darabooka and chanting their wild re-
frains ; crowds of Arabs squatted in the light of the illumina-
tion and filled the steps and the doorway. Within were feasting,
music and dancing, in Oriental abandon. In the hall, which
was lined with spectators, was to be seen the stiff-legged sprawl-
ing-about and quivering of the Ghawazees, to the barbarous
tum-tum, thump-thump, of the musicians ; in each side-room
also dancing was extemporized, until the house was pervaded
with the monotonous vulgarity, which was more pronounced
than at the house of Ali.

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360

MUxMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

In the midst of these strange festivities, the gi-ave Mustapha
recei\ed congratulations upon his newly-conferred honor, with
the air of a man who was responding to it in the finest Oriental
style. Nothing grander than this entertainment could be con-
ceived in Luxor.

Let us try to look at it also with Oriental eyes. How fatal
it would be to it wc' to look at it with Oriental eyes, we can
conceive by transferring the scene to New York. A citizen,
from one of the oldest families, has received from the President,
let us suppose, the decoration of the Grand Order of Inspector
of Consulates. In order to do honor to the occasion, he throws
open his residence at Gramercy Park, procures a lot of sailors
to sit on his steps and sing nautical ditties, and drafts a score
of g'rls from Central-street to entertain his guests with a style
of dancing which could not be worse if it had three thousand
years of antiquity.

I prefer not to regard this Luxor entertainment in such a
light; and although we hasten from it as soon as we can with
civility, I am haunted for a long time afterwaixls by I know
not what there was in it of fantastic and barbaric fascination.

The last afternoon at Luxor we give to a long walk to Kar-
nak and beyond, through the wheat and barley fields now vocal
with the songs of birds. We do not, however, reach the con-
spicuouF pillars of a temple on the desert far io the north-east ;
but, returning, climb the wall of circuit and look our last upon
these fascinating ruins. From this point the relative vastness
of the Great Hall is apparent. The view this afternoon is
certainly one of the most beautiful in the world. You know
already the elements of it.

Lite at night, after a parting dinner of ceremony, and with
a pang of regret, although we are in bed, the dahabeeh is loosed
from Luxor, and we quietly drop down below old Thebes.

CHAPTER XXXI.

LOITERING BY THE WAY.

lemoon is

^^E are at home again. Our little world, which has been
Jk somewhat disturbed ' thegayety of Thebes, and is
[^ already as weary of i nbs as of temples und of the
whole incubus of Egyptian, civilization, readjusts itself and
settles into its usual placid enjoyment.

We have now two gazelles on board, and a most disagreeable
lizard, nearly three feet long ; I dislike th^ way his legs are set
on his sides ; I dislike his tail, which is a fat continuation of
his body ; and the " feel" of his cold, creeping Hesh is worse
than his api)earance ; he is exceedingly active, darting rapidly
about in every direction to the end of his rope. Tha gazelles
chase each other about the deck, frolicking in the dim, and their
eyes express as much tenderness and affection as any eyes can,
Ret like theirs. If they were mounted in a woman's head, and
properly shaded with long lashes, she would bo the most dan-
gerous beivig in existence.

Somehow there is a little change in the atmosphere of the
dahabeijh. The jester of the crew, who kept l.hem alternately
laughing and grumbling, singing and quarreling, turbulent with
hasheesh or sulky for want of it, was left in jail at Assouan.
The reis has never recovered the injury to his dignity inflicted
by his brief incarceration, and gives us nc more a cheerful
good-morning. The steersman smiles still, with the fixed look
of enjoyment that his face assumed when it fii*st came into the
world, but he is listless ; I think he has struck a section of the
river in which there is a dearth of his wives ; he has complain-
ed that his feet were cold in the fresh mornings, but the stock-
ings we gave him he does not wear, and probably is reserving
for a dress occasion. Abd-el-Atti meditates serious,/ upon a

mmm

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362

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

misui-'derstanciing with one of his old friends at Luxor ; he likes
to tell us about the diplome'fc and sarcaatic letter he addressed
him on leaving ; " I wrote it," he says, " very grammatick, the
meaning of him very deep ; I think he feel it." There is no
language like the Arabic for the delivery of courtly sarcasm, in
soft words at which no offence can be taken — for administering
a smart slap in the face, so to say, with a feather.

It is a ravishing sort of day, a slight haze, warm but life-
giving air, and we row a little and sail a little down the broad
ening river, by the palms, and the wheat-fields growing yellow,
and the soft chain of Libyan hills, — the very dotce far niente of
lif3. Other dahabeehs accompany us, and we hear the choruses
of their crews responding to ours. From the shore comes the
hum of labor and of idleness, men at the shadoofs, women at
the shore for water ; there are flooks of white herons and spoon-
bills 0x1 the sandbars ; we glide past villages with picturesque
pigeon-houses ; a ferry-boat ever and anon puts across, a low
black scow, its sides banked up vvith clay, a sail all patches and
tatters, and crowded in it three or foiii 'jnkeys and a group of
shawled women and turbaned men, eilent and sombre. The
country through which we walk, t- wards night, is a vast plain
of wheat, irrigated by canals, with villages in all directions ;
the peasants are shabbily dresf?cd, as if taxes ate up all their
labor, but they do not beg.

The city of Keneh, to which we come next morning, is the
nearest point of tlie Nile to the Red Sea, the desert route to
Kosseir being only one hundred and twenty miles ; it is the
Neapolis of which Herodotus speaks, near which was the great
city of Chemmis, that had a temple dedicated to Perseus. The
Chemmitae declared that this demi-god often appeared to them
on earth, and that he was deioCcnded from citizens of their coun-
try who had sailed into Greece ; there is no doubt that Perseus
came here wlien he made the expedition into Libya to bring the
Gorgon's head.

Keneh is now a thriving city, full of evidences of wealth,
and of well-dressed people, and there are handsome houses and
bazaars like those of Caii'O. From time immemorial it has been
famous for its koollehs, which are made of a fine clay found only
in this vicinity, of which ware is manufactured almost as thin
as paper. The process of making them hais not changed since

iiii i

LOITERING BY THE WAY.

363

or : he likes

women at

the potters of tho Pharaohs' time. The potters of to-day are
very skilful at the wheel. A small mass of moistened clay,
mixed with sifted ashes of halfeh-grass and kneaded like bread,
is placed upon a round plate of wood which whirls by a treadle.
As it revolves, the workman with his hands fashions the clay
into vessels of all shapeii, graceful and delicate, with a sleight
of hand that is wonderful. He makes a koolleh, or a drink-
ing-cup, or a vase with a slender neck, in a few s^rconds, fashion-
ing it as truly as if it were cast in a mould. It was like magic
to see the fragile forms grow in his hands. We sat for a long
time in one of the cool rooms where two or three potters were
at work, shaded from the sun by palm-branches, which let the
light flicker upon the earth-floor, upon the freshly made vessels
and the spinning wheels of the turbaned workmen, whose deft
fingers wrought out unceasingly these beautiful shapes from the
revolving clay.

At the house of the English consul we have coffee ; he after-
wards lunches with us and insists, but in vain, that we stay and
be entertained by a Ghawazee dance in the evening. It is a
kind of amusement of which a very little satisfies one. At his
house, Prince Arthur and his suite were also calling ; a slender,
pleasant appearing young gentleman, not noticeable anywhere,
and with a face of no special force, but bearing the family like-
ness. As we have had occasion to remark more than once.
Princes are so plenty on the Nile this year as to be a burden to
the officials, — especially German princes, who, however, do not
count any more. The private, unostentatious traveller, who
asks no favor of the Khedive, is becoming almost a ranty. I
hear the natives complain that almost all the Englishmen of
rank who come to Egypt, beg, or shall we say accept 1 substan-
tial favors of the Khedive. The nobility appear to have a new
rendering of noblesse oblige. This is rather humiliating to us
Americans, who are, after all, almost blood-relations of the
English ; and besides, we are often taken for Tnglese, in villages
where few strangers go. It cannot be said that all Americans
are modest, unassuming travellers ; but we are glad to record a
point or two in their favor : — they pay their way, and they do
not appear to cut and paint their names upon the ruins in such
numbers as travellers from other countries ; the French are the
greatest offenders in this respect, and the Germans next.

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MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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We cross the river in the afternoon and ride to the temple
of Athor Of Venu3 at Denderah. This temple, although of late
construction, is considered one of the most important in Egypt.
But it is incomplete, smaller, and less satisfactory than that at
Edfoo. The architecture of the portico and succeeding hall is
on the whole noble, but the columns are thick and ungraceful,
and the sculptures are clumsy and ungraceful. The myth of
the Egyptian Venus is worked out everywhere with the elabo-
ration of a later Greek temple. On the ceiling of several rooms
her gigantic figure is bent round three sides, and from a globe
in her lap rays proceed in the vivifying influence of which trees
are made to grow. »

Everywhere in the temple are subterranean and intramural
passages, entrance to which is only had by a narrow aperture,
once closed by a stone. For what were these perfectly dark
alleys intended 1 Processions could not move in them, and if
they were merely used for concealing valuables, why should
their inner sides have been covered with such elaborate sculp-
tures 1

The most interesting thing at Dende^aii is the small temple
of Osiris, which is called the '* lying-in-temple," the subjects of
sculptures being the mystical conception, bii*th, and babyhood
of Osiris. You might think from the pictures on the walls, of
babes at nurse and babes in arms, that you had obtruded into
one of the institutions of charity called a Day Nursery. We
are glad to find here, carved in large, the image of the four-
headed, ugly little creature we have been calling Typhon, the
spirit of evil ; and to learn that it is not Tjrphon but is the god
Bes, a jolly promoter of memment and dancing. His appear-
ance is very much against him.

Mariette Bey makes the great mystery of the adytum of the
large temple, which the king alone could enter, the golden
sistrum which was kept there. The sistrum was the mysterious
emblem of Venus ; it is sculptured everywhere in this building
— although it is one of the sacred symbols found in all temples.
.""Lis sacred instrument par excellence of the Egyptians played
as impoi-tant a part in their worship, says Mr. Wilkinson, as
the tinkling bell in Roman Catholic services. The great
privilege of holding it vas accordod to queens, r ' '<^'i«s of
rank who wGr« devoted to the sfci'vice of the ooi'./ Fhfe r'n^nm

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LOITERING BY THE WAY.

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is a stnp of gold, or bronze, bent in a long loop, and the ends,
coming together, are fastened in an ornamented handle. Through
the loop bars are run upon which are rings, and when the in-
stininjent is shaken the rings move to and fro. Upon the sides
of the handle were sometimes carved the faces of Isis and of
Nephthys, the sister goddesses, representing the beginning and
the end.

It is a little startling to find, when we get at the inner secret
of the Egyptian religion, that it is a rattle ! But it is the sym-
bol of eternal agitation, without which there is no life. And
the Egyptians profoundly knew this great secret of the universe.

We pass next day, quietly, to the exhibition of a religious
devotion which is trying to get on without any sistrum or any
agitation whatever. Towards sunset, below How, we come to
a place where a holy man, called Sheykh Saleem, roosts forever
on a sloping bank, with a rich country behind him ; beyond, on
the plain, hundreds of men and boys are at work throwing up
an embankment against the next inundation ; but he does not
heed them. The holy man is stark naked and sits upon his
haunches, his head, a shock of yellow hair, upon his knees. He
is of that sickly, whitey-black color which such holy skin as his
gets by long exjjosiire. Before him on the bank is a row of
large water-jars; behii)d him is a lit le kennel of mud, into
which he can crawl if it ever occurs to him to go to bed.
About him, seated on the ground, is a group of his admirers.
Boys run after us along the bank begging backsheesh for
Sheykh Saleem. A crowd of hangers-on, we are told, always
surround him, and live on the charity that his piety evokes
from the faithful. His own wants are few. He spends his life
in this attitude principally, contemplating the sand between
his knees. He has sat here for forty years.

People pass and repass, camels swing by him, the sun shines,
a breeze as of summer moves the wheat behind him, and our
great barque, with its gay flags and a dozen rowers rov. ing in
time, sweeps before him, but he does not raise his head. Per-
haps he has found the secret of perfect happiness. But his
example cannot be widely imitated. There are not many cli-
mates in the world in which a man can enjoy such a religion
out of doors at all seasons of the year.

We row on and by sundown are opposite Farshoot and its

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sugar-factoi'ieK ; the river broadens into a lake, shut in to the
north by limestone hills rosy in this light, and it is perfectly
still at this hour. But for the palms against the sky, and the
cries of men at the shadoofs, and the clumsy native boats with
their freight of immobile figures, this might be a glassy lake in
the remote Adirondack forest, especially when the light has so
much diminished that the mountains no longer appear naked.

The next morning, as we were loitering along, wishing for a
breeze to take us quickly to Bellianeh, that we might spend
the day in visiting old Abydus, a beautiful wind suddenly arose
according to our desire.
" You always have good fortune," says the dragoman.

"I thought you didn't believe in luck] "

" Not to call him luck. You think the wind to blow 'thout
the Lord know it 1 "

We approach ^ellia^Bh undf r such fine headway that we
fall almost into the opposite murmuiing, that this helpful breeze
should come just when we were obliged to stop and lose the
benefit. We half incline to go on, and leave Abydus in its
ashes, but the absurdity of making a journey of seven thousand
miles and then passing near to, but unseen, the spot most
sacred to the old Egyptians, flashes upon us, and we meekly
land. But our inclination to go on was not so absurd as it seems ;
the mind is so constituted that it can contain only a certain
amount of old ruins, and we were getting a mental indigestion of
them. Loathing is perhaps too strong a word to use in regard to
a piece of sculpture, but I think that a sight at this time, of
Rameses II. in his favorite attitude of slicing oflf the heads of
a lot of small captives, would have made as sick.

By eleven o'clock we were mounted for the ride of eight
miles, and it may give some idea of the speed of the donkey
under compulsion, to say that we made the distance in an hour
and forty minutes. The sun was hot, the wind fresh, the dust
considerable, — a fine sandy powder that, before night, penetra-
ted clothes and skin. Nevertheless, the ride was charming.
The way lay through a plain extending for many miles in every
direction, every foot of it green with barley (of which hero and
there a spot waa ripening), with clover, with the rank, daik
Egyptian bean. The air was sweet, and filled with songs of
the birds that glanced over the fields or poised in the air on

LOITERING BY THE WAY.

3<57

blow 'thout

even wing like the lark. Through the vast, nnfienced fields
were narrow well-beaten roads in all directions, upon which
men women, and children, usually poorly and scantily clad,
donkeys and camels, were coming and going. There was the
hum of voices everywhere, the occasional agonized blast of the
donkey and the caravan bleat of the camel. It often seems to
us that the more rich and broad the fields and the more
abundant the life, the more squalor among the people.

We had noticed, at little distances apart in the plain, mounds
of dirt five or six feet high. Upon each of these stood a soli-
tary figure, usually a naked boy — a bronze image set up above
the green.

" What are these"? " we ask.

" What you call scarecrows, to frighten the birds ; see that
chile throw dirt at 'em ! "

" They look like sentries ; do the people here steal ] "

" Everybody help himself, if nobody watch him."

At length we reach the dust-swept village of ArAbat, on the
eAge of the desert, near the ruins of the ancient Thinis (or
Abydus), the so-called cradle of the Egyptian monarchy. They
have recently been excavated. I cannot think that this ancient
and most important city was originally so far from tlje Nile; in
the day of its glory the river must have run near it, Here
v/as the seat of the first Egyptian dynasty, five thousand and
four years before Christ, according to the chronology of
Mariette Bey. I find no difficulty in accepting the five thou-
sand but I am puzzled about the /our years. It makes Menes
four years older than he is generally sui>posed to have been.
It is the accuracy of the date that sets one ponuoring. Menes,
the first-known Egyptian king, and the founder of .Memphis,
was born here. If he established his dynasty here six thousand
eight hundred and sev< ity-nine years ago, ho must have been
born me time before that datp ; and to be a ruler he must
have been of noble parents and no doubt received a good
education. I should lik« to know what smt ot a pUce, as to
art, say, and literature, and architecture, Thinis was seven
thousand and four years a^o U is chiefiy sand-heaps now.

Not 3niy ^s"a.3 Menes born here, in the grey dawn of history,
but Osiris, the manifestation of Liglit on eaith, was buried here
in the greyer dawn of a mythic period. His tomb was venerated

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MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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by the Pharaonic worshippers as the Holy Sepulchre is by
Christians, and for raany ages. It was the last desire of the
rich and noble Egyptians to be buried at Thinis, in order that
they might lie in the same grave with Osiris ; and bodies were
brought here from all parts of Egypt to rest in the sacred earth.
Their tombs were heaj)ed up one above another, about the grave
of the god. There are thousands of mounds here, . clustering
thickly about a larger mound ; and, by digging, M. Mariette
hopes to find the reputed tomb of Osiris. An enclosure of
crude brick marks the supposed site of this supposed most
ancient city of Egypt.

From these prehistoric ashes, it is like going from Rome to
Peoria, to pass to a temple built so late as the time of Sethi I.,
only about thirty-three hundred years ago. It has been nearly
all excavated and it is worth a long ride to see it. Its plan
difiei's from that of all other temples, and its varied sculpture
ranks with the best of temple carving ; nowhere else have we
found more lift and grace of action in the figures and more ex-
pressive features ; in number of singular emblems and devices
and in their careful and beautiful cutting, and brilliant color-
ing, the temple is unsurpassed, The non-stereotyped plan of
the temple beguiled us into a hearty enjoyment of it. Its
numerous columns are pure Egyptian of the best style — lotus
capitals ; and it contains somo excellent specimens of the Doric
column, or of ijbs original, rather. The famous original tablet
of kings, seventy-six, from Menes to Sethi, a i»artial copy of
which is ill the British Museum, has been re-OL vered with sand
for its preservation. This must have been one of the finest of
the 0)4 temples. We find hero the novelty of vaulted roofs,
formed hy a singular method. The roof stones are not laid flat,
as elsGwhoio, l)Ut oil «dge, and the roof, thus having suflicient
thickness, is hollowed out on the under side, and the arch in
de(jui'|ite(| with stars and other devices. Of rourse, there is a
temple of Rameses II,, next door to this otut, but it exislN now
only in its magnifli/fit Ibiirjidatioiis

Wo rode back through ihn vHlauc of A/nb(it in a whiilwind
of dust, amid fries of •' baokshefeHl/," hailed from every door,
and pursuod by yelling children. Oii« l«iy, ulad in the loose
gown that passes for a wardrobe in these pfti Is, in order to earn
his money, threw a somersault bolbrc us, and, in a flawsh, tui*ned

LOITERING BY THE WAV.

369

completely out of his clothes, like a now-made Adam ! Nothing
was ever more neatly done ; except it may have been a feat of
my donkey a moment afterwards, executed perhaps in rivalry of
the boy. Pretending to stumble, he went on his head, and
threw a somersault also. When I went back to look for him,
his head was doubled under his body so that he had to be
helped up.

When we returned, we found six othoi* dahabeuhs moored
near ours. Out of the seven, six carried tlio American flag —
one of them in union with the German — and the seventh was
English. The American flags largely outnumber all others
on the Nile this year ; in fact, Americans and various kinds oi
princes appear to be monopolizing this stream. A German,
who shares a boat with Americans, drops in for ;i talk. It is
wonderful how much more space in the world every German
needs, now that there is a Germany. Our visitor expresses
the belief that the Germans and the Americans are to share
the dominion of the world between them. I suppose that this
means that we are to be permitted to dwell on our present ik)3-
sessions in peace, if we don't make faces ; but one cannot con-
template the extinction of all the other powers without regret.

Of course we have outstayed the south wind ; the next morn-
ing we are slowly drifting against the north wind. As I look
from the window before breakfast, a Nubian trader floats past,
and on the bow deck is crouched a handsome young lion,
honest of face and free of glance, little dreaming of the miser-
able menagerie life before him. There .tre two lions and a
leopard, and a cargo (»f ciuuauiou, senna, elephants' tusks, and
ostrich-feathers, on board; all Central Africa seems to float
beside us, and the coal-black crew do not lessen III" Itui baric
impression.

It \H after dark when we reach Girgeh, and are guided to
our moorage by the lights of other dahabechs. Ail that we
see of this decayed but once capital town, are foiii' minarets,
two of them surrounding picturesque ruin i and some slender
columns of a mosque, the remainder of tiio building having
been washed into the river. As we land, a muiizzin sings the
evening call to prayer in a sweet, high tenor voice; and it
sounds like a welcome.

Decaved, did we say of Girgeh ? What is aat decayed, or
24

370

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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decaying, or shifting, on thi.s aggressive river? How age laps
back on age and one religion shulfles another out of sight. In
the hazy morning we are passing Mensh^eh, the site of an old
town that once was not inferior to Memphis ; and then we
come to Ekhmeem— ancient Panopolis. You never heard of
it 1 A Roman visitor called it the oldest city of all Egypt ; it
was in fact founded by Ekhmeem, th > son of Misraim, the off-
spring of Cush, the son of Ham. There you are, almost per-
sonally present at the Deluge, Below here are two Coptic
convents, probably later than the time of the Empress Helena.
On tho shore are walking some Coptic Chris, ians, but they are
in no vv^ay superior in appearance to other natives ; a woman,,
whom we hail, m^kes the sign of the cross, and then demands
backsheesh.

We had some curiosity to visit a town of such honorable
foundation. Wo found in it fine mosques and elegant minarets,
of a good Saracenic epoch. Upon the lofty stone top of one
sat an eagle, who looked down upon us unscared ; the mosque
was ruinous and the door closed, but through the windows we
could see the gaily decorated ceiling ; the whole was in the sort
of decay that the traveller learns to think Moslemism itself.

We made a pretence of searching for the remains of a temple
of Pan — though we probably care less for Pan tlian we do for
Rameses. Making known our wants, seveial polite gentlemen
in turbans offered to show us the way — the gentlemen in these
towns seem to havfe no other occupation than to sit on the
ground and smoke the chibook — and we were attended by a
procession, beyond the walls, to the cemetery. There in a
hollow, we saw a few large stones, some of them showing marks
of cutting. This was the temple spoken of in the hand-book.
Our hosts then insisted upon drn<^ging us half a mile further
through the dust of the cemetery mounds, in the glare of the
sun, and showed us a stone half buried, with a few hieroglyphics
on one end. Never were people so polite. A gra^ o man here
joined us, and proposed to show us some quei-is qnteeka ("beau-
tiful antiquities "J ; and we followed this obliging person half
over town ; and finally, in the court of a private house, he
pointed to the torso of a blue granite statue. All th's was done
out of pure hospitality; the people could not have been more
attentive if they had had something rea'ly woi ih seeing. The

LOITERING BY THE WAY.

371

town has hanflsomo, spaci./iis coffee-houses and shops, and an
appearance of Oriental luxury.

One novelty the place offered, and that was in a drink ing-
fountain. Undor a canopy, in a wall-panel, in the street, wjus
inserted a copper- nipple, which was worn, by constant uso, jia
smooth as tlu^ toe of St. Peter at Komo. When one wislies to
drink, he applies his mouth to this nipple and draws ; it re-
(juires some pow< r of suction to raise the water, hut it is good
and co«>l when it cojnes. As Herotlotus would remark, now I
have done speaking about this nipple.

We walked on interminably, and at lengtl' obtained a
native boat, with a fine assortment of fellahs and donkeys for
passengers, to set us over to Soohag, the capital of the pro\ ince,
a busy, and insupportably duty town, with hordes of frt<-;md.
easy natives loafing about, and groups of them, Sijuatting by
little dabs of tobacco, or candy, or doora, or sugar-cane, making
what they are pleased to call a market.

It seemed to be a day for hauling us about. Two bright
boys seized us, and urgetl us to go with them and sec something
marvellously beautiful. One of them was an erect, handsome
lad, with courtly and even elegant dignity, a high and yet
simple bearing, which I venture to say not a king's son in
Europe is [lossessed of. They led us a cha.se, through half the
sprawling town, by lanes and filtliy stiaets, under baziurs, into
the recesses of domestic poverty, among unknown and incpiisi-
tive natives, until we began to think that we should never see
our native dahabeiih again. At last we were landed in a court
where sat two men, adding up columns of figures. It was an
Oriental picture, but scarcely worth coming so t'lw to see.

The men looked at us in wondering query, as if demanding
what we wanted.

We stood looking at them, Imt couldn't tell them what we
wanted, since we did not know. And if we had known, we
could not have told them. We only pointed to the boys who
b* d brought us. The boys pcnted to the ornamental portals of
a closed door.

.^vfter a long delay, and the most earnest posturing and pro-
fessions of our young guides, and evident suspicion of us, a key
was brought, and we were ndmitted into a cool and clean
Coptic church, which had fresh matting and an odor of incense.

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Ostrich-eggs hun;^ before the holy places, as in mosques ; an
old clock, with a long and richly inlaid dial-case, stood at one
end ; and there were paintings in the Byzaiitine style of " old
masters." One of them represented the patron saint of the
Copts, St. George, slaying the dragon ; the conception does
equal honor to the saint and the artist; the wooden horse, upon
which St. George is mounted, and its rider, fill nearly all the
space of the canvas, leaving very little room for the landscape
with its trees, for the dragon, for the maiden, and for her
parents looking down upon her from the castle window. And
tkis picture perfectly represents the present condition of art in
the whole Orient.

At Soohag a pteamboat passed down towing four barges,
packed with motley loads of boys and men, impressed to work
in the Khedive's sugar-factory at Khodes. They are seized, so
many from a ^ iliage, like the recruits for the army. They re-
ceive from two to two and a half piastres (ten to twelve and a
half cents) a day wages, and a couple of pounds of bread each.
I suspect the reason the Khedive's agricultural operations
and his sugar-factories are unprofitable, is to be sought in the
dishonest agents and middle-men — a kind of dishonesty that
seems to be ingi*ained in the Eastern economy. The Khedive
loses both ways : — that which he attempts to expend on a cer-
tain improvement is greatly diminished before it reaches its
object ; and the returns from the investment, on their way back
to his Highness, are rubbed away, passing through so many
hands, to the vanishing point, it is the same with the taxes ;
the fellah pays four times as much as he ought, and the Khe-
dive receives not the government due. The abuse is worse than
it was in France with the farmers general in the time of Louis
XIV. and Louis XV. The tax apportioaed to a province is
required of its governor. He adds a lumping per cent, to the
total, and divides the increased amount among his sub-gover-
nors for collection ; they add a third to their levy and divide it
among the tax-gatherers of sections of the district ; these again
swell their quota before apportioning it among the sheykhs or
actual collectors, and the latter take the very life-blood out of
the fellah.

" As we sail down the river in this approaching harvest-season
we areiu continual wonder at the fertility of the land ; a fertil-

LOITERING BY THE WAY.

373

ity on the slightest cultivation, the shallowest ploughing, and
without fertilization. It is customary to say that the soil is inex-
haustible, that crop after crop of the same kind can be depend-
ed on, and the mud (Ihiion) of the overflowing Nile will re-
pair all wastes.

And yet, I somehow get an impression of degeneracy, of ex-
haustion, both in Upper and Lower Egypt, in the soil ; and it
extends to men and to animals ; horses, cattle, donkeys, camels,
domestic fowls look impoverished — we have had occasion to
say before that the hens lay ridiculously small eggs — they put
the contents of one egg into three shells. (They might not take
this trouble if eggs were sold by weight, as they should be.)
The food of the country does not sufficiently nourish man or
beast. Iti' quality is deficient. The Egyptian wheat does not
make wholesome bread ; most of it has an iinplei<,sant odor — it
tends to speedy corruption, it lacks certain elemente, phospho-
rus probably. The bread that we eat on the dahabeiih is made
from foreign wheat. The Egyptian wheat is at a large dis-
count in European markets. One reason of this inferiority is
supposed to be the succession of a wheat crop year after year
upon the same field ; another is the absolute want of any ferti-
lizer except the Nile mud ; and another the use of the same
seed forever. Its virtue has departed from it, and the mosi
hopeless thing in the situation is the unwillingness of the fellah
to try anything new, in his contented ignorance. The Khedive
has made extraordinary efibrts to introduce improved machi-
nery and processes, and he has set the example on his own
plantations. It has no efiect on the fellah. He will have
none of the new inventions or new ways. It seems as hopeless
to attempt to change him as it would be to convert a pyramid
into a Congregational meeting-ho use.

For the political economist and the humanitarian, Egypt is
the most interesting and the saddest study of this age ; its ag-
riculture and its people are alike unique. For the ordinary
traveller the country has not less interest, and I suppose he may
be pardoned if he sometimes loses sight of the misery in the
strangeness, the antique barbarity, the romance by which he
is surrounded.

As We lay, windbound, a few miles below Soohag, the Nubian
trading-boat I had peen the day before was moored near ; and

$74

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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we improved this opportunity for an easy journey to Central
Afnca> by going on board. The forward-deck was piled with
African hides so high that the oars v/ere obliged to be hung on
outriggers ; the cabin-deck was loaded with bags of gums, spices,
medicines ; and the cabin itself was stored so full, that when
we crawled down into H there was scarcely room to sit upright
on the bags. Into this penetralia of barbaric merchandise, the
ladies preceded us, upon the promise of the sedate and shrewd-
eyed traveller to exhibit his ostrich-feathers. I suppose nothing
in the world of ornament is so fascinating to a woman ae an
ostrich-feather; and to delve into a mine of them, to be able to
toss about handfuls, sheafs of them, to choose any size and shape
and any color, glossy black, white, grey, and white with black
tips, — it makes one a little delirious to think of it ! There is
even a mild enjoyment in seeing a lady take up a long, droop-
ing plume, hold it up before her dancing, critical eyes, turning
the head a little one side, shaking the feathered curve into its
most graceful fall — "Isn't it a beauty]" Is she thinking how
it will look upon a hat of the mode 1 Not in the least. The
ostrich-feather is the symbol of truth and justice ; things that
are equal to the same thing are equal to each other — it is also
the symbol of woman. In the last judgment before Osiris, the
ostrich-feather is weighed in the balance against all the good
deeds of a man's life. You have seen many a man put all his
life against the pursuit of an ostrich-feather in a woman's hat
— the plume of truth in beauty's bonnet.

While the ostrich -trade is dragging along its graceful length,
other curiosities are produced; the short, dangerous tusks of
the wild boar ; the long tusks of the elephant — a beast whose
enormous strength is only made a show of, like that of Samson;
and pretty silver-work from Soudan.

" What is this beautiful tawny skin, upon which I am sitting]"
" Lion's ; she was the mother of one of the young lions out
yonder. And this," continued the trader, drawing something
from the corner, "is her skull." It gave a tender interest to
the orphan outside, to see these remains of liis mother. But
sadness is misplaced on her account; it is better that she died
than to live to see her child in a menagerie.

" What's that thick stuflf in a bottle there behind you]"
" That's lion's oil, some of her oil." Unhappy family, the
mother skinned and boiled, the offspring dragged into slavery.

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LOITERING BY THE WAY.

375

I took the bottle. To think that I held in my hand the oil
of a lion ! Bear's oil i8 vulgar. But this is difierent; one might
anoint himself for any heroic deed with this royal ointment.

" And is that another bottle of it 1"

"Mais, no; yoi; don't get a lion every day for oil; that is
ostrich oil. This is good for rheumatism."

It ought to be. There is nothing rheumatic about the ostrich.
When 1 have tasted sufficiently *he barbaric joys of the cabin
I climb out upon the deck to see more of this strange craft.

Upon the narrow and dirty bow, over a slow fire, on a shallow
copper dish, a dark and slender boy is cooking flap-jacks as big
as the flap of a leathern apron. He takes the flap-jack up by
the edge in his fingers and turns it over, when one side is cooked,
as easily as if i^; were a sheepskin. There is a pile of them be-
side him, enough to make a whole suit of clothes, burnous and
all, and very durable it would prove. Near him is tied, by a
cotton cord, a half-grown leopard, elegantly spotted, who has a
habit of running out his tongue, giving a side-lick to his chops,
and looking at you in the most friendly manner. If I were the
boy I wouldn't stand with my naked back to a leopard which
is tied with a slight string.

On shore, on the sand and in the edge of the wheat, are
playing in the sun a couple of handsome young lions, gentle as
kittens. After watching their antics for some time, and calcu-
lating the weight of their pavs as they cufi* each other, I satisfy
a long ungratified Van Amburgh ambition, by patting the
youngest on the head and putting my hand (for an exceedingly
brief instant) into his mouth, experiencing a certain fearful
pleasure, remembering that although young he is a lion !

The two play together very prettily, and when I leave them
they have lain down to sleep, face to face, with their arms
round each other's necks, like the babes in the wood. The
lovely leopard occasionally rises to his feet and looks at them
and then lies down again, giving a soft sweep to his long and
rather vicious tail. His countenance is devoid of the nobility
of the lion's. The lion's face inspires you with confidence ; but
I can see little to trust in the yellow depths of his eyes. The
lion's eyes, like those of all untamed beasts, have the repulsive
trait of looking at you without any recognition in them — the
dull glare of animality.

376

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

h St at i

JS > 1

The next morning, when t,he wind falls, we slip out from our
cover, like the baffled mariners of Jason, and row past the
bold, purplish-grey cliflf of Gebel Sheykh Hereedee, in which
are grottoes and a tomb of the sixth dynasty, and on to Tahta,
a large town, almost as picturesque, in the distance, with its
tall minarets and one great, red-colored building, as Venice
from the Lido. Then the wind rises, and we are again tanta-
lized with no progress. One likes to dally and eat the lotus by
his own will ; but when the elements baffle him, and the wind
blows contrary to his desires, the old impatience, the free will
of ancient Adam, arises, and man falls out of his paradise. We
are tempted to wish to be hitched (just for a day, or to get
round a bend), to one of these miserable steamboats that go
swashing by, frightening all the game-birds, and fouling the
sweet air of Egypt with the black smoke of their chimneys.

In default of going on, we climb a high spur of the Mokat-
tam, which has a vast desert plain on each side, and in front,
and up and down the very crooked river (the wind would need
to change every five minutes to get us round these bends), an
enormous stretch of gi'een fields, dotted with villages, flocks of
sheep and cattle, and strips of palm-groves. Whenever we get
in Egypt this extensive view over mountains, desert, arable land
and river, it is always both lovely and grand. There was this
afternoon on the bare limestone precipices a bloom as of in-
cipient spring verdure. There is always some surprise of color
for the traveller who-goes ashore, or looks from his window, on
the Nile, — either in the sky, or in the ground which has been
steeped in color for so many ages that even the brown earth
is rich.

The people hereabouts have a bad reputation, perhaps given
them by the government, against which they rebelled on account
of excessive taxes ; the insurrection was reduced by knocking
a village or two into the original dust with cannon balls. We,
however, found the innabitants very civil. In the village was
one of the houses of entertainment for wanderers — a half-open
cow-shed it would be called in less favored lands. The interior
was decorated with the rudest designs in bright colors, and sen-
tences from the Koran ; we were told that any stranger could
lodge in it and have something to eat and drink ; but I should
advise the coming traveller to bring his bed, and board also.

LOITERING BY THE WAY.

377

"Wo were offered the fruit of the nabbek tree (something like n
sycamore), a small a])ple, a sort of cross between the thorn and
the crab, with the disagreeable qualities of both. Most of the
vegetables and fniits of the valley we find insipid ; but the
fellaheen seem to like neutral flavors as diey do neutral colora.
The almost universal brown of the gowns in this region har-
monizes with the soil, and the color does not show dirt ; a great
point for people who sit always on the ground.

The next day we still have need of patience ; we start, meet
an increasing wind, which whirls us about and blows us lip
stream. We creep under a bank and lie all day, a cold March
day, and the air dark with dust.

After this Sunday of rest, we walk all the following morning
through fields of wheat and lentils, along the shore. The people
are uninteresting, men gruff; women ugly; clothes scarce;
fruit, the nabbek, which a young lady climbs a tree to shake
do*7n for us. But I encountered here a little boy who filled my
day with sunshine.

He was a sort of shepherd boy, and I found him alone in a
field, the guardian of a donkey which was nibbling coarse grass.
But his mind was not on his charge, and he was so much ab-
sorbed in his occupation that he did not notice my approach.
He was playing, for his own delight and evidently with intense
enjoyment, upon a reed pipe — an instrument of two short reeds,
each with four holes, bound together,^ and played like a
clarionet.

Its compass was small, and the tune ran round and round in
it, accompanied by one of the most doleful drones imaginable.
Nothing could be more harrowing to the nerves. I got the boy
to play it a good deal. I saw that it was an antique instrument
(it was in fact Pan's pipe unchanged in five thousand years),
and that the boy was a musical enthusiast — a gentle Mozart
who lived in an ideal world which he created for himself in the
midst of the most forlorn conditions. The little fellow had the
knack of inhaling and blowing at the same time, expanding his
cheeks, and using his stomach like the bellows of the Scotch
bagpipe, and producing the same droning sound as that delight-
ful instrument. But I would rather hear this boy half a day
than the bagpipe a week.

I talked about buying the pipe, but the boy made it himself,

1 t 1

378

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

and prized it so highly that I could not pay him what he
thought it wfiH worth, and ' had not the heart to offer its real
value. Therefore I left him in possession of his darling, and
gave him half a silver piastre. He kissed it and thanked me
warmly, holding the unexpected remuneration for his genius in
his hand, r nd looking at it with shining eyes. I feel an instant
pang, and I am sorry that I gave it to him. I have destroyed
the pure and ideal world in which he played to himself, and
tainted the divine love of sweet sounds with the idea of gain
and the scent of money. The serenity of his soul is broken up,
and he will never again be the same boy, exercising hia talent
merely for the pleasure of it. He will inevitably think of
profit, and will feverishly expect something from every trav-
eller. He may even fall so far as to repair to landings where
boats stop, and play in the hope of blacksheesh.

At night we came to Assiout, greeted from afar by the sight
of its slender and tall minarets and trees, on the rosy back-
ground of sunset.

CHAPTER XXXII

JOTTINGS.

JETTING our daliabeiih drift on in the morning, we sjjend
the day at Asaiout, intending to oveiiake it by a short
cut across the oxbow which the river makes here. We
saw in the city two examj)les, very unlike, of the new activity
in Egypt. One related to education, the other to the physical
developement of the country and to conquest.

After paying our respects to the consul, we were conducted
by his two sons to the Presbyterian Mission-school. These
young men were educated at the American College in Beyrout.
Nearly everywhere we have been in the East, we have found a
graduate of this school, that is as much as to'say, a person
intelligent and anxious and able to aid in the regeneration of
his country. It would not be easy to overestimate the services
that this one liberal institution of learning is doing in the
Orient.

The mission-school was under the charge of the Rev. Dr.
John Hogg and his wife (both Scotch), with two women-teachers
and several native assistants. We were surprised to find an
establishment of about one hundred and twenty scholars, of
whom over twenty were girls. Of course the majority of the
students were in the primary studies, and some were very
young; but there were classes in advanced mathematics, in
logic, history, English, etc. The Arab young men have a fond-
ness for logic and metaphysics, and develop easily an inherited
subtlety in such studies. The text-books in use are Arabic,
and that is the medium of teaching.

The students come from all pai-ts of upper Egypt, and are
almost all the children of Protestant parents, and they are,
with an occasional exception, supported by their parents, who

4
' 1

> !

1 i 1
> i

3«o

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

pay at least their board while they are at school. There were
few Moslems among thera, I think only one Moslem girl. I
am bound to say that the boys and young men in their close
rooms did not present an attractive appearance ; an ill-assorted
assembly, with the stamp of physical inferiority and dullness
— an effect partiplly due to their scant and shabby apparel, for
some of them had bright, intelligent faces.

The school for girls, small as it is, impressed us as one of the
most hopeful things in Egypt. I have no confidence in any
scheme for the regeneration of the country, in any development
of agriculture, or extension of territory, or even in education,
that does not reach woman and radically change her and her
position. It is not enough to say that the harem system is a
curse to the East; woman herself is everywhere degraded.
Until she becomes totally different from what she now is, I am
not sure but the Arab is right in saying that the harem is a
necessity ; the woman is secluded in it (and in the vast majority
of harems there is only one wife) and has a watch set over her,
because she cannot be trusted. One hears that Cairo is full of
intrigue, in spite of locked doors and eunuchs. The large
towns are worse than the country ; but I have heard it said
that woman is the evil and plague of Egypt — though I don't
know how the country could go on without her. Sweeping
generalizations are dangerous, but it is said that the sole educa-
tion of most Egyptian women is in arts to stimulate the passion
of men. Ii the idleness of the most luxurious haren, in the
grim povei-ty of the lowest cabin, woman is simply an animal.

What can you expect of her ] She is literally uneducated,
untrained in every respect. She knows no more of domestic
economy than she does of books, and she is no more fitted to
make a house attractive or a room tidy than she is to hold an
intelligent conversation. Married when she is yet a child, to
a person she may have never seen, and a mother at an age
when she should be in school, there is no opportunity for her
to become anything better than she is.

A primary intention in this school is to fit the girls to become
good wives, who can set an example of tidy homes economically
managed, in which there shall be something of social life and
intelligent companionship between husband and vrife. The girls
are taught the common branches, sewing, cooking, and house-

JOTTINGS.

381

hero were
n girl. I
Aieir close
ll-assorted
I dullness
pparel, for

one of the
ce in any
velopment
education,
»r and her
yf tern is a
degraded.
w is, I am
larem is a
;t majority
t over her,

is full of
The large
ird it said
gli I don't

Sweeping
sole educa-
.he passion
ri, in the
[\ animal,
neducated,
f domestic
e fitted to
bo hold an

1 child, to
at an age

ty for her

; to become
onomically
al life and
The girls
md house-

keeping — as there is opportunity for learning it in the family
of the missionaries. This house of Dr. Hogg's, with its lx>oks,
music, civilized mrnage, is a school in itself, and the girl who
has access to it for three or four years will not bo content with
the inconvenience, the barren squalor of her parental hovel; for
it is quite as much ignorance as poverty that produces miserable
homes. Some of the girls now here expect to become teachers;
some will marry young mer. who are also at this school. Such
an institution would be of incalculable service if it did nothing
else than postpone the marriage of women a few years. This
school is a small seed in l^gypt, but it is, I believe, the germ of
a social revolution. It is, I think, the only one in Upper
Egypt. There is a mission school of similar character in Cairo,
and the Khedive also has undertaken schools for the education
of girls.

In the last room we came to the highest class, a dozen girls,
some of them mere children in appearance, but all of marriage-
able age. I asked the age of one pretty child, who showed un-
common brightness in her exercises.

*' She is twelve," said the superintendent, '* and no doubt
would be married, if she were not here. The girls become
marriageable from eleven years, and occasionally they marry
younger ; if one is not married at fifteen she'is in danger of
remaining single."

" Do the Moslems opi)ose your school 1 "

"The heads of the religion endeavor to prevent Moslem
children coming to it ; we have had considerable trouble ; but
generally the mothers would like to have their girls taught here,
they become better daughters and more useful at home."

" Can you see that you gain here ] "

" Little by little. The mission has been a wouvl-rful success.
I have been in Egypt eighteen years ; since the ten years that
we have been at Assiout, we have planted, in various towns in
Upper Egypt, ten churches."

" What do you think is your greatest difficulty ]"

" Well, perhaps the Arabic language."

" The labor of mastering it?"

" Not that exactly, although it is an unending study. Arabic
is an exceedingly rich language, as you know — a tongue that
has often a hundred words for one simple object has almost in-

382

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

finite capabilities for expressing shades of meaning. To know
Arabic grammatically is the work of a lifetime. A man says,
when he has given a long life to it, that ho knows a little
Arabic. My Moslem teacher here, who was as learned an Arab
as I ever knew, never would hear me in a grammatical lesson
upon any passage he had not carefully studied beforehand. Ho
begged me to excuse him, one morning, from hearing mo (I
think we were reading from the Koran) because he had not hud
time to go over the portion to be read. Still, the difficulty of
which J speak, is that Arabic and the Moslem religion are one
and the same thing, in the minds of the faithful. To know
Arabic is to learn the Koran, and that is the learning of a
learned Arab. He never gets to tho end of the deep religious
meaning hidden in the grammatical intricacies. lioligion and
grammar thus become one."

" I suppose that is what our dragonan means, when he is
reading me something out of the Koran, and comes to a passage
that he calls too deep."

*• Yes. There is room for endless diftercnces of opinion in
tho rendering of almost any passage, and ^the disagreement is
important, because it becomes a religious difference. I had an
example of the unity of the language and the religion in tho
Moslem mind. When I came here the learned thought I must
be a Moslem because I knew the grammatical Arabic ; they
could not conceive how else I should know it."

When we called upon his excellency, Shakeer Pasha, the
square in front of his office and the streets leading to it were so
covered with sitting figu ^^hat it was difficult to make a way
amidst them. There was an unusual assembly of some sort,
but Hs purport we could not guess. It was hardly in the nature
of a popular convention, although its members sat at their ease,
smoking, and a babel of talk arose. Nowhere else in Kgypt
have I seen so many fine and even white-looking men gatheiod
together. The centre of every group was a clerk, with inkhorn
and reed, going over columns of figures.

The governor's quarters were a good specimen of Oriental
style and shabbiness ; spacious whitewashed apartments, with
dirty faded curtains. But we were received with a politeness
that would have befitted a palace, and with the cordial ease of
old friends. The Pasha was heartbroken that we had not noti-

■wmf

iii

JOTTINGS.

383

fied him of our coming, and that now our tim« would not permit
U8 to stay and accept a dinner — had wo not promised to do so
on our return ? He would send couriei-a and recall our boat, ho
would detain us by force. Allowing for all the exaggeration
of Oriental phraseology, it appeared only too proliablo that the
Pasha wonld die if we did not stay to dinner and ypcnd the
night. But we did not.

This great concotirse ] Oh, they were shoykhs and head men
of all the villages in the country round, whom ho had summoned
to arrange for the purchase of dromedaries. Tlio government
has issued ordera for the purchase of a large number, which it
wants to send to Darfoor. The Khedive is making a great
effort to open the route to Darfoor (twenty-eight days by camel)
to regular and safe travel, and to establish stations on the road.
That immense and almost unknown territory will thus be
brought within the commercial world.

During our call we were served with a new beverage in place
of coffee ; it was a hot and sweetened tea of cinnamon, and very
delicious.

On our returu to the river, wo pasr.ed the new railway
station building, w bich is to be a handsome edifice of white
limestone. Men, women, and children are impressed to labor
on it, and, an intelligent Copt told us, without pay. Veiy
young girls were the mortar-carriers, and as they walke<l to and
fro, with small boxes on their heads, they sang, the precocious
children, an Arab love-song : —

"He passed by my door, he did not speak to me."

"We have seen little girls, quite as small as these, forced to
load coal upon the steamers, and beaten and cuffed by the over-
seers. It is a hard country for women. They have only a
year or two of time, in which all-powerful nature and the woo-
ing sun sing within them the songs of love, then a few years of
married slavery, and then ugliness, old age, and hard work.

I do not know a more melancholy subject of reflection than
the condition, the lives of these women we have been seeing for
three months. They have neither any social nor any religious
life. If there were nothing else to condemn the system of
Mohammed, this is suffisient. I know what splendours of art
it has produced, what achievements in war, what benefits to
literatura and science in the dark ages of Europe. But all the

384

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

■;, «i

I WA k

culture of a race that in its men has borne acconiplishGd
scholars, warriors, and artists, has never touched the women.
The condition of woman in the Orient is the conclusive verdict
against the religion of the Prophet.

I will not contrast that condition with thd highest ; I will
not compare a collection of Egyptian women, assembled for
any purpose, a funeral or a wedding, with a society of American
ladies in consultation upon some work of charity, i\or with an
English drawing-room. I chanced once to be present at a re-
presentation of Yerdi's Grand Ma&s, in Venice, when all the
world of fashion, of beouty, of intelligence, assisted. The
coup (Tceil was brilliant. Upon the stage, half a hundred of
the chorus-singers were ladies. The leading solo-singers were
ladies. I remember the freshness, the beauty even, the viva-
city, the gay decency of the toilet, of that group of women
who contributed their full share in a most intelligent and
at times profoundly pathetic rendering of the Mass. I rec&U
the sympathetic audience, largely composed of women, the
quick response to a noble strain nobly sung, the cheers,
the tears even which were not wanting in answer to the
solemn appeal ; in fine, the highly civ'.lized sersitiveness to the
best product of religious ait„ Think of some such scene as
that, and of the women of an European civilization ; and then
behold the women who are the product of this, — the sad, dark
fringe of water-drawers and baby-carriers, for eight hundred
miles along the Nile.

We have a row in the sandal of nine miles b^ore we over-
take our dahabeeh, which the wind still baffles. However, we
slip along under the cover of darkness, for, at dawn, I hear the
muezzin calling to prayer at Manfaloot, trying in vain to
impress a believing but drowsy world, that prayer is better
than sleep. This is said to be the place where Lot passed the
period of his exile. Near here, also, the Koly Family s-^journed
when it spent a winter in Egypt. (The Moslems have appro-
priat(.d and localized everything in our Scriptures which is
picturesque, and they plant our Biblical characters where it is
convenient.) It is a very pretty town, with minarets and
gardens.

It surprises us to experience such cool weather towards the
middle of March ; at nine in the morning the thermometer

w n .w» a»*^ aMi

JOTTINGS.

385

igent

iompiishod
le women,
ve verdict

;st ; I will
mbled for
American
>r with an
ut at a re-
en all the
jted. The
lundred of
igers were
the viva-
of women
and
I rec&U
omen, the
lie cheers,
rer to the
less to the

scene as

and then

i .sad, dark

hundred

'vve over-

wever, we

I hear the

m vain to

is better

lassed the

sojourned

avc appro-

which is

inhere it is

larets and

•wards the
3rmometor

marks 55° ; the north wind is cold, but otherwise the day is
royal. Ilaviiig nothing better to do we climb the cliffs of Gebel
Aboofeyda, at least a thousand feet above the river ; for ten
miles it presents a bold precipice, unscalable except at inter-
vals. We find our way up a ravine. The rocks surface the
river and in the ravine are worn exactly as the sea wears rock,
honeycombed by the action of water, and exca"ated into veri-
tal'e sea-caves near the summit. Tho limestone is rich in
fossil shells.

The plain on top presented a singular appearance. It was
strewn with small boulders, many of them round and as shapely
as cannon balls, all formed no doubt before the invention of
the conical missiles. While we were amusing ourselves with
the thousand fantastic freaks of nature in hardened ciay, two
sinister Arabs approached us from behind and cut off our
retreat. One was armed with a long gun, and the other with a
portentous spear. We saluted iiiem in the most friendly man-
ner, and hoped that they would pass on ; but, no, they attached
ther Wes to us. I tried to think of cases of travellers fol-
lowed into the desert on the oSTile and murdered, but none oc-
curred to me. There seemed to be no danger from the gun so
long as we kept near its owner, for the length of it would pre-
vent his bringing it into action close at hand. The spear ap-
peared to be the more effective weapon of the two ; it was so,
for I soon ascei-tsined that the gun was not loaded and that its
bearer had neither powder nor balls. It turned out that this
was a detachment of the local guard, sent out to protect us ; it
would have been a formidable party in case of an attack.

Continuing our walk over the stone-clad and desolate swells,
it suddenly occurred to us that we had become so accustomed
to this sort of desert-walking, with no green or growing thing
in sight, that it had ceased to seem strange to us. It gave us
something like a start, thererore, shortly after, to see, away to
the right, blue water forming islands out of the hill ops along
the horizon ; there was an appearance of verdure about the
edge of the water, and dark clouds sailed over it. There was,
however, when we looked steadily, abont the whole landscape
a shimmer and a shadowy look that taught us to know that it
waH a mirage ; the rich Nile valley below us, with the blue
water, the green fields, the black lines of palms, was dimly
25

386

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

III

"I T

mirrored in the sky and thrown upon the desert hills in the
distance. We stood where we could compare the original pic-
ture with the blurred copy.

Making our way down the face of the cliff, along some
ledges, we came upon many grottoes and mummy-pits cut in
the rock, all without sculptures, except one ; this had on one
side an arched niche and pilasters from which the arch sprung.
The vault of the niche had been plastered and painted, and
a Greek, cross was chiseled in each pil&ster ; but underneath
the pilaster the rock was in ornamental squanis, lozenges and
curves in Saracenic style, although it may have been ancient
Egyptian. How one religion has whitewashed, and lived on
the remains of another here ; the tombs of one age become the
temples of another and the dwellings of a third. On these
ledges, and on the desert above, we found bits of pottery.
fWherever we have wandered, however far into the desert from
the river, we never get beyond the limit of broken pottery ; and
this evidence of man's presence everywhere, on the most barren
of these high or low plains of stone and sand, speaks of age and
of human occupation as clearly as the temples and monuments.
There is no virgin foot of desert even ; all is worn and used.
Human feet have trodden it in every direction for ages. Even
on high peaks where the eagles sit, men hav-e piled stones and
made shelters,^ perhaps lookouts for enemies, it may be five
hundr^, it may be three thousand years ago. There is no-
where in Egypt a virgin spot.

By moonlight we are creeping under the frowning cliffs of
Aboofeyda, and voyage on all night in a buccaneerish fashion ;
the next day sail by Hadji Kandell, where thavelle^'s disembark
for Tel el Amarna. The remains of a once vast city strew the
plain, but we only survey it shrough a field-glass. What, we
sometimes say in our more modern moments, is one spot more
than another ] The whole valley is a sepulchre of dead civili-
zati us ; its inhabitants were stowed away, tier on tier, shelf
on lelf, in these ledges.

j^iowever, respect for age sent us in the afternoon to the
grottoes on the noi*th side of the cliff of Sheykh Said. This
whole curved ranged, away round to the remains of Antinoe,
is full on tombs. Some that we visited are lai-ge and would be
very comfortable dwellings ; they had been used for Christian

JOTTINGS.

387

ills in the
iginal pic-

long some
)its cut in
lad on one
ch sprung,
tinted, and
mderneatli
senses and
en ancient
td lived on
become the

On these
of pottery,
iesert from
Dttery; and
nost barren
i of age and
uonuments.
1 and used,
ges. Even

stones and
lay be five
'here is no-

ng cliffs of
Lsh fashion ;
3 disembark
,y strew the
What, we
e spot more
dead civili-
n tier, shelf

loon to the
Said. This
of Antinoe,
id would be
or Christian

churches, having been plastered and painted. Traces of one
painting remain — trees and a comical donkey, probably part of
the story of the flight of the Holy Family into Egypt. We
found in one of the ovals Cheops, the builder of the great
pyramid, and much good sculpture in the best old manner —
agricultural scenes, musicians, dancers, beautifully cut, with
careful details and also with spirit. This is very old work, and,
even abused as it has been, it is as good as any the traveller
will find in Egypt. This tomb no doubt goes back to the fourth
dynasty, and its drawing of animals, cows, birds, and fish are
better than we usually see later. In a net in which fish is
taken, many kinds are represeiited, and so faithfully that the
species are recognizable ; in a marsh is seen a hippopotamus,
full of life and viciousness, drawn with his mouth stretched
asunder wide enough to serve for a menagerie show-bill. There
are sonle curious false doors and architectural ornaments, like
those of the same epoch in the tombs at the pyramids.

At night we were at Rhoda, w here is one 01 the largest of the
Khedive's sugar-factories; and tht; next morning at Beiii Hassan,
famed, next to Thebes, for its grottoes, which have preserved to
us, in painted scenes, so much of the old Egyptian life. "Who-
ever has seen pictures of these old paintings and read the vast
amount of description and inferences concerning the old Egyptian
life, based upon them, must be disappointed when he sees them
to-day. In the first place they are only painted, not cut> and
in this respect are inferior to those in the grottoes of Sheykh
Said ; in the second place, they are so defaced, as to be with
difiiculty deciphered, especially those depicting the trades.

Some of the giottoes are large — sixty feet by forty feet ; fine
apartments in the rock, high and woll lighted by the pcrtal.
Architecturally, no tombs are more interesting ; some of the
ceilings are vaulted, in three sections ; they are supjx)rted by
fluted pillars, some like the Doric, and some in the beautiful
lotus style ; the pillars are architraves ; and there are some
elaborately wrought false doorways. And all this goes to show
that, however ancient these tombs are, they imitated stone
buildings already existing in a highly developed architecture.

■Essentially the same subjects are represented in all the
tombs ; these are the trades, occupations, amusements of the
people. Men are blowing glass, working in gold, bre&king

388

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

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flax, tending herds (oven doctoring animals that arc ill),
chiseling statues, painting, turning the potter's wheel ; the
barber shaves his customer ; two men play at draught ; the
games most in favor are wrestling and throwing balls, and in
the latter women play. But what one specially admires is the
honesty of the decorators, which conceals nothing from posterity ;
the punishment of the bastinado is again and again represented,
and even women are subject to it ; but respect was shown for
sex ; the woman was not cast upon the ground, she kneels and
takes the flagellation on her shoulders.

We saw in tliese tombs no horses among the many animals ;
wo have never seen the horse in any sculptures except har-
nessed in a war-chariot ; " the horse and his rider " do not
appear.

There is a scene here which was the subject of a singular
mistake, that illustrates the needless zeal of early explorers to
find in everything in Egypt confirmation of the Old Testament
narratives. A procession, painted on the wall, now known to
represent the advent of an Asiatic tribe into Egypt, perhaps
the Shepherds, in a remote period, was declared to represent
the arrival of Joseph's brethren. The tomb, however, was
made several centuries before the advent of Joseph himself.
And even if it were of later date than the event named, we
should not expect to find in it a record of an occurrence of such
little significance at that time. We ought not to be surprised
at the absence in Egypt of traces of the Israelitish sojourn, and
we should not be, i*^ we looked at the event from the Egyptian
pohit of view and not from ours. In a view of the great drama
of the ancient world in the awful Egyptian perspective, the
Jewish episode is relegated to its proper proportion in secular
history. The whole Jewish history, as a worldly phenomenon,
occupies its narrow limits. The incalculable effect upon desert
tribes of a long sojourn in a highly civilized state, the subse-
quent development of law and of a literature unsurpassed in
after-times, and the final flower into Christianity, — it is in the
light of all this that we read the smaller incidents of Jewish
history, and are in the habit of magnifying its contemporary
relations. It was the slenderest thread in the days of Egyptian
puissance. In the ancient atmosphere of Egypt, events purely
historical fall into their proper proportions. Many people have

JOTTINGS.

389

an idea that the ancient world revolved round the Jews, and
even hold it as a sort of religious faith.

It in difficult to believe that the race we see here are descen-
dants of the active, inventive, joyous people who painted their
lives upon these tombs. As we lie all the afternoon before a
little village opposite Beni Hassan, I wonder for the hundredth
time what it is that saves such miserable places from seeming
to us as vile as the most wretched abodes of poverty in our own
land. Is it because, with an ever-cheerful sun and a porous
soil, the village is not so filthy as a like abode of misery would
be with us ? Is it that the imagination invests the foreign and
the Orient with its own hues ; or is it that our reading, pre-
possessing our minds, gives the lie to all our senses 1 I cannot
understand why we are not more disgusted with such a scene
as this. Not to weary you with a repetition of scenes sufficiently
familiar, let us put the life of the Egyptian fellah, as it appears
at the moment, into a paragraph.

Here is a jumble of small mud-hovels, many of them only
roofed with cornstalks, thrown together without so much
order as a beaver would use in building a village, distinguish-
able only from dog-kennels in that they have wooden doors —
not distinguishable from them when the door is open and a
figure is seen in the aperture. Nowhere any comfort or
cleanliness, except that sometimes the inner kennel, of which
the woman guards the key, will have its floor swept and clean
matting in one corner. The court about which there are two
or three of these kennels, serves the family for all purposes ;
there the fire for cooking is built, there are the water-jars, and
the stone for grinding corn ; there the chickens and the dogs
are ; there crouch in the dirt women and men, the women
spinning, making bread, or nursing children, the men in
vacant idleness. While the women stir about and go for
water, the men will sit still all day long. The amount of
sitting down here in Egypt is inconceivable ; you might
almost call it the feature of the country. No one in the
village knows anything, either of religion or of the world ;
no oije has any plans ; no one exhibits any interest in any-
thing ; can any of them have any hopes 1 From this life
nearly everything but the animal is eliminated. Children,
and pretty children, swai-m, tumbling about everywhere;
besides, nearly every woman has one in her arms.

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390

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS,

"We ought not to be vexed at this constant noi*th wind
which baffles us, for they say it is necessary to the proper
filling out of the wheat heads. The boat drifts about all day
in a mile square, having passed the morning on a sand-spit
where the stupidity and laziness of the crew placed it ; and
wo have leisure to explore the large town of Menieh, which
lies prettily along the river. Here is a costly palace, which I
believe has never been occupied by the Khedive, and a garden
attached, less slovenly in condition than those of country
palaces usually are. The sugar-factory is furnished with
most costly machinery, which could not have been bought
for less than half a million of dollars. Many of the private
houses give evidences of wealth in their highly ornamented
doorways and Moorish arches, but the mass of the town is of
the usual sort here — tortuous lanes in which weary hundreds
of people sit in dirt, poverty, and resignation. We met in the
street and in the shops many coal-black Nubians and negroes,
smartly dressed in the recent European style, having an
impudent air, who seemed to be persons of wealth and con-
sideration here. In the course of our wanderings £ came to
a large public building, built in galleries about an open court,
and unwittingly in my examination of it, stumbled into the
apartment of the Governor, Osman Bey, who was giving
audience to all comers. Justice is still administered in
patriarchal style ; the door is open to all ; rich and poor were
crowding in, presenting petitions and papers of all sorts, and
among them a woman preferred a request. Whether justice
was really done did not appear, but Oriental hospitality is at
least unfailing. Before I could withdraw, having discovered
my blunder, the Governor welcomed me with all politeness
and gave me a seat beside him. We smiled at each other in
Arabic and American, and came to a perfect understanding
on coffee and cigarettes.

The next morning we were slowly passing the Copt convent
of Gebel e' Tyrr, and expecting the appearance of the swim-
ming Christians. There is a good opportunity to board us,
but no one appears. Perhaps because it is Sunday, and
these Christians do not swim on Sunday. No. We learn
from a thinly clad and melancholy person who is regarding us
from the rocks that the Khedive has forbidden this disagree-

JOTTINGS.

391

oi-th wind
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able exhibition of muscular Christianity. Ic was quite time.
But thus, one by one, the attractions of the Nile vanish.

What a Sunday ! But not an exceptional day. " Oh dear,"
says madame, 'n a tone of injury, "here's another fine day ! "
Although the north wind is strong, the air is soft, caressing,
elastic.

More and more is forced upon us the contrast of the scenery
of Upper and Lower Egypt. Here it is not simply that the
river is wider and the mountains more removed and the arable
land broader; the lines are all straight and horizontal, the
mountain ranges are level-topped, parallel to the flat prairies —
at sunset a low level of white limestone hills in the east looked
exactly like a long line of fence whitewashed. In Upper Egypt,
as we have said, the plains roll, the hills are broken, there are
pyramidal mountains, and evidences of upheaval and disorder.
But these wide sweeping and majestic lines have their charm ;
the sunsets and sunrisca are in some respects finer than in
Nubia ; the tints are not so delicate, the colors not so pure,
but the moister atmosphere and clouds make them more brilliant
and various. The dawn, like the after- glow, is long ; the sky
burns half round with rose and pink, the color mounts high up.
The sunsets are beyond praise, and always surprises. Last
night the reflection in the east was of a color unseen before —
almost a purple below and a rose above j and the west glowed
for an hour in changing tints. The night was not less beautiful
— we have a certain comfort in contrasting both with March in
New England. It was summer; the Nile slept, the moon half
full, let the stars show; and as we glided swiftly down, the
oars rising and falling to the murmured chorus of the rowers,
there were deep shadows under the banks, and the stately
palms, sentinelling the vast plain of moonlight over which we
passed, — the great silence of an Egyptian night — seemed to re-
move us all into dreamland. The land was still, except for the
creak of an occasional shadoof worked by some wise man who
thinks it easier to draw water in the night than in the heat of
the day, or an aroused wolfish dog, or a solitary bird piping on
the shore.

Thus we go, thus we stay, in the delicious weather, encouraged
now and again by a puff of southern wind, but held back from
our destination by some mysterious angel of delay. But ono

392

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

I ■:

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day the wind comes, the sail is distended, the bow points down*
stream, and we move at the dizzy rate of five miles an hour.

It is a day of incomparable beauty. We see very little labor
along the Nile ; the crops are maturing. But the whole popu-
lation comes to the river, to bathe, to sit in tlie shallows, to sit
on the bank. All the afternoon we pass groups, men, women,
children, motionless, the picture of idleness. There they are,
hour after hour, in the sun. "Women, coming for wator, put
down their jars, and bathe and frolic in the grateful stream.
In some distant reaches of the river there are rows of women
along the shore, exactly like the birds which straid in the
shallow places or sun themselves on the sand. There are more
than twenty miles of bathers, of all sexes and ages.

When at last we come to a long sand-reef, dotted with storks,
cranes and pelicans, the critic says he is glad to see something
with feathers on it.

We are in full tide of success and puffed up with confidence ;
it is perfectly easy to descend the Nile. All the latter part of
the afternoon we are studying the False Pyramid of Maydoon,
that structure, older than Cheops, built, like all the primitive
monuments, in degrees as the Tow«r of Babel was, as the
Chaldean temples were. It lifts up, miles away from the river,
only a broken mass from the debris at its base. We leave it
behind. We shall be at Bedreshayn, for Memphis, before day-
light. As we turn in, the critic says :

" We've got the thing in our hands now."

Alas ! the Lord reached down and took it out. The wind
chopped suddenly, and blew a gale from the north. At break-
fast time we were waltzing round opposite the pyramids of
Dashoor, liable to go aground on islands, and sandbars, and unable
to make the land. Determined not to lose the day, we anchored,
took the sandal, had a long pull, against the gale, to Bedres-
hayn, and mounted donkeys for the ruins of ancient Memphis.

When Herodotus visited Memphis, probably about four
hundred and fifty years before Christ, it was a great city. He
makes special mention of its temple of Vulcan, whose priests
gave him a circumstantial account of the building of the city
by Menes, the first Pharaoh. Four hundred years later,
Diodorus found it magnificent; about the beginning of the
Christian era, Strabo says it was next in size to Alexandria.

JOTTINGS.

393

Although at the end of the twelfth century it had been system-
atically despoiled to build Cairo, an Arab traveller sayw that
" its ruins occupy a space half a day's journey every >vay," and
that its wonders could not be described. Temples, palaces,
gardens, villas, acres of common dwellings — the city covered
this vast plain with its splendor and its squalor.

The traveller now needs a guide to discover a vestige, a stone
here and there, of this once most magnificent caj)ital. Here
came Moses and Aarv^.i. from the Israelitish settlement in the
Delta, from Zoan (Tanis) probably, to beg Menephtah to let
the Jews depart ; here were performed the miracles of the Ex-
odus. This is the Biblical Noph, against ^hich burned the
wrath of the prophets. " No, (Heliopolis, or On) shall be rent
asunder, and Noph shall have distresses daily." The decree
was " published in Noph" : — " Noph shall be waste and deso-
late without an inhabitant ;" " I will cause their images to
cease out of Noph."

The images have ceased, the temples have either been re-
moved or have disappeared under the deposits of inundations ;
you would ride over old Memphis without knowing it, but the
inhabitants have returned to this fertile and exuberant plain.
It is only in the long range of pyramids and the great necro-
polis in the desert that you can find old Memphis.

The superabundant life of the region encountered us at once.
At Bedreshayn is a ferry, and its boats were thronged, chiefly
by women, coming and going, and always with a load of grain
or other produce on the head. We rode round the town on an
elevated dyke, lined with palms, and wound onward over a flat,
rich with wheat and barley, to Mitrahenny, a little village in
a splendid palm-grove. This marks the central spot of the
ruins of old. Memphis. Here are some mounds, here are found
fragments of statues and cut stones, which are preserved in a
temporary shelter. And here, lying on its side, in a hollow
from which the water was just subsiding, is a polished colossal
statue of Rameses II. — the Pharaoh who left more monuments
of less achievements than any other " swell" of antiquity.
The face is handsome, as all his statues are, and is probably
conventionalized like our pictures of George "Washington, or
Napoleon's busts of himself. I confess to a feeling of perfect
satisfaction at seeing his finely chiseled nose rooting in the
mud.

394

MUMMIES AND MOSI EMS.

■ (■

! I

This — some mounds, some fragments of stonc), and the statue,
— was all wo saw of Memphis. But I should like to have
spent a day in this lovely grove, which was carpeted with the
only turf 1 saw in Egypt ; reclining upon the old mounds in
the shade, and pretending to think of Menes and Moses and
Menephtah ; and of Rhampsinitus, the king who " descended
alive into the place which the Greeks call Hades, and there
played at dice with Ceres, and sometimes won, and other times
lost," and of the treasure-house he built here ; and whether,
as Herodotus believed, Helen, the beautiful cause of the Iliad,
really once dwelt in a palace here, and whether Homer ever
recited his epic in these streets.

We go on over the still rich plain to the village of Sakkarah
— chiefly babies and small children. The cheerful life of this
prairie fills us with delight — flocks of sheep, herds of bufialoes,
trains of dromedaries, hundreds of laborers of both sexes in the
fields, children skylarking about ; on every path are women,
always with a basket on the head, their blue cotton gown (the
only article of dress except a head-shawl,) open in front, blow-
ing back so as to shcfw their figures as they walk.

When we reach the desert we are in the presence of death —
perhaps the most mournful sight on this earth is a necropolis
in the desert, savage, sand-drifted, plundered, all its mounds
dug over and over. We ride along at the bases of the pyra-
n ids. I stop at one, climb over the debris at its base, and
break ofi" a fragment of stone. The pyramid is of cnimbling
limestone, and, built iu stages or degrees, like that of May-
doon ; it is slowly becoming an unsightly heap. And it is
time. This is believed to be the oldest structure in the world,
except the tower of Babe!, It seems to have been the sepul-
chre of Keken, a king of the second dynasty. At this period
hieroglyphic writing was developed, but the construction and
ornamentation of the doorway of the pyramid exhibit art in its
infancy. This would seem to show that the Egyptians did not
emigrate from Asia with the developed and highly perfected
art found in the sculptures of the tombs of the fourth, fifth,
and sixth dynasties, as some have supposed, but that there
was a growth, which was arrested later.

But no inference in regard to old Egypt is safe ; a discovery
to-morrow may upset it. Statues recently found, representing

1 I

JOTTINGS.

395

statue,
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persons living in the third dynasty, present a diflforent typo of
race from that shown in statues of the fourth and fifth dynasties.
So that, in that period in which one might infer a growth of art,
there may have been a change of the dominating race.

The firet gi-eat work of Mariette Bey in Egypt — and it is u
monument of his sagacity, enthusiasm, and determination, — was
the unearthing, in this waste of Memphis, the lost Scrapeum
and the Apis Mausoleum, the tombs of the sacred bulls. The
remains of the temple are again covered with s^nd ; but the
visitor can explore the Mausoleum. He can Avalk, taper in
hand, through endless galleries, hewn in the rock, passing
between rows of gigantic granite sarcophagi, in which once
rested the mummies of the sacred bulls. Living, the bull wa.s
daintily fed — the Nile water unfiltered was thought to be too
fattening for him — and devotedly worshipped ; and dying, he
was entombed in a sepulchre as magnificent as that of kings, and
his adorers lined the walls of his tomb with votive oflerings.
It is partly from these stelaj, or slabs with inscriptions, that
Mariette Bey has added so much to our knowledge of Egyptian
history.

Near the Serapeum is perhaps the most elegant tomb in
Egypt, the tomb of Tih, who lived in the fifth dynasty, some
time later than Cheops, but when hippopotami abounded in the
river in front of hia farm. Although Tih was a priest, he was
a gentleman of elegant tastes, an agriculturist, a sportsman.
He had a model farm, as you may see by the buildings and by
the thousand details of good management he carved. His tomb
does him great credit. In all the work of later times there is
nothing so good as this sculpture, so free, so varied, so beautiful;
it promises everything. Tih even had, what we do not expect
in people of that early time, humor ; you are sure oif it from
some of the pictures here. He must have taken delight in
decorating his tomb, and have spent, altogether, some pleasant
yeara in it before he occupied it finally ; so that he had become
accustomed to staying here.

But his rule was despotic, it was that of the '* stick." Egypt-
ians have never changed in this respect, as we have remarked
before. They are now, as then, under the despotism of some
notion of governance — divine or human — despotic and fateful.
The " stick" is as old as the monarchy ; it appears in these

396

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

:i;:

; !

tombs ; as to-day, nobody then worked or paid taxes without
its application.

The sudden arrest of Egyptian art was also forced upon us
next day, in a second visit to the pyramids of Geezeh. Wo
spent most of the day in the tombs there. In some of them we
saw the ovala of all the kings of the fourth dynasty, many of
them perfect and fresh in color. As to drawing, cutting,
variety, liveliness of attitude and color, there is nothing better,
little so good, in tombs of recent date. We find almost every
secular subject in the early tombs that is seen in the latest. In
thousands of years, the Egj'^ptians scarcely changed or made any
progress. The figures of men and animals are better executed
in these old tombs than in the later. Again, these tombs are
free from the endless repetitions of gods and of oflfe rings to them.
The life of the people represented is mor*- natural, less super-
stitious ; common events are naively portrayed, with the
humorous unconsciousness of a simple age ; art has thought it
not unworthy its skill to represent the fact in one tomb, that
m.en acted as mid-wives to cows, in the dawn of history.

While we lay at Geezeh we visited one of the chicken-hatch-
ing establishments for which the Egyptians have been famous
from a remote period. It was a very unpretending affair, ii a
dirty suburb of the town. We were admitted into a low mud-
building, and into a passage with ovens on each side. In these
ovens the eggs are spread upon mats, and the necessary fire is
made underneath. The temperature is at 100° to 108° Fahren-
heit. Each oven has a hole in the centre, through which the
naked attendant crawls to turn the eggs from time to time. The
process requires usually twenty-one days, but some eggs hatch
on the twentieth. The eggs are aupplied by the peasants who
usually receive, without charge, half as many chickens as they
bring eggs. About one third of the eggs do not hatch. The
hatching is only performed about three months in the year,
during the spring.

In the passage, before one of the ovens, was a heap of soft
chickens, perhaps half a bushel, which the attendant scraped
together whenever they attempted to toddle off. We had the
pleasure of taking up some handfuls of them. We also looked
into the ovens, where there was a stir of life, and were per-
mitted to hold some eggs while the occupants kicked off the
sheU.

JOTTINGS.

39;

I don't know that a plan will ever bo invcntod by which oggB,
an well a8 chickens, will be produced without the intervention
of the hen. If one could bo, it would leave the hen so much
more time to scratch — it would relieve her from domestic cares
so that she could take part in public affairs. The hen in Egypt
is only partially emancipated. But since she is relieved from
setting, I do not know that she is any better hen. She lays
very small eggs.

This ends what I have to say about the hen. We have come
to Cairo, and the world is again before us.

CHAl^TER XXXIII.

THE KHEDIVE.

1 1,

iHAT excitement there is in adjacency to a great city !
To hear its inarticulate hum, to feel the thrill of its
myriads, the magnetism of a vast society ! How the
y)ul8e quickens at Jie mere sight of multitudes of buildings, and
the overhanging haze of smoke and dust that covers a little
from the sight of the angels the great human straggle and folly.
How impatient one is to dive into the ocean of his fellows.

The stir of life has multiplied every 'hour in the past two
days. The river swarms with boats, the banks are vocal with
labor, traffic, merriment. This morning early v/e are dropping
down past huge casernes full of soldiers — the bank is lined wiih
them, thousands of them, bathing and washing their clothes,
their gabble filling the air. We see again the lofty mosque of
Mohammed Ali^ the citadel of Saladin, the forest of minarets
above the brown roofs of the town. We pass the isle of E-hoda.
and the ample palaces of the Queen-Mother. We moor at
Gezereh amid a great shoal of dahabeiihs, returned from High
Egypt, deserted of their passengers, flags down, blinds closed —
a spectacle to fill one with melancholy that so much pleasure is
over.

The dahabeehs usually discharge their passengers at Gezerr^,
above the bridge. If the boat goes below with baggage, it is
subject to a port-duty, as if it were a traveller, — besides tho
tax for passing the draw-bridge. We decide to remain some
days on our boat, because it is comfortable, and because we
want to postpone the dreaded breaking up of housekeeping,
packing up our scattered efiects, and moving. Having obtained

THE KHEDIVE.

399

it city !
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In some
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permission to moor at the government dock below Kasr-el-Nil,
we drop down here.

The first i)erson to greet us there is Aboo Yusef, the ov/ner.
Behind him comes Habib Bagdadli, the little Jew partner.
There is always that in his mien which says, " I was really
born in Bagdad, but I know you still think I am a Jew from
Algiers. No, gentlemens, you wrong a man to whom reputation
is everything." But he is glad to see his boat safe; he expresses
as much pleasure as one can throw from an eye with a cast in
it. Aboo Yusef ia radiant. He is attired gorgeously, in a
new suit, from fresh turban to red slipperp, on the profits of
the voyage. His robe is silk, his .lash is cashmere. He over-
flows with complimentary speech.

" Allah be praised, I see you safe."

" We have reason to be grateful."

** And that you had a good journey."

" A perfect journey."

"We have been made desolate by your absence; thank God,
you have enjoyed +Le winter."

" I suppose you are glad to see the boat back safe also?"
. '* That is nothing, not to mention it, I not think of it ; the
return of the boat safe, that is nothing. I only think that you
are safe. But it is a good boat. You will say it is the first-
class of boats 1 And she goes up the cataract all right. Did I
not say she go up the cataract ] Abd-el- Atti he bear 'me
witness."

" You did. You said so. Habib said so also. Was there
any report here in Cairo that we could not go up V

" Mashallah. riuch news. The boat was lost in the cataract;
the reis was drowned. For the loss of the boat I did not care ;
only if you were safe."

" Did you heai that the cataract reises objected to take us
upr

" What rascals ! They always make the traveller some trou-
ble. But, Allah forgive us all, the head reis is dead. Not so,
Abd-el-Atti?"

" What, the old reis that we said good-bye to only a little
while ago at Assouan?"

" Him dead," says Abd-el- Atti. " I have this morning some
conversation witli a tradin* boat from the Cataract. Him dead
shortly after we leave."

400

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

t 5 j

It was the first time it had ever occurred to me that one of
these tough old Bedaween could die in the ordinary manner.

But alas, his spirit was too powerful for his frame. We have
not in this case the consolation of feeling that his loss is our
gain ; for there are plenty more like him at the First Cataract.
He took money from Aboo Yusef for not taking us up the
Cataract, and he took money from xrnfor taking us up. His
account is balanced. He was an impartial man. Peace to his
colored ashes.

At )o Yusef and the little Jew took leave with increased
demonstrations of affection, and repeated again and again their
joy that yfQ had ascended the Gataraci, and returned safe. The
Jew, as I said, had a furtive look, but Aboo is open as the day.
He is an Arab you would trust. I can scarcely believe that it
was he and his partner who sent the bribe to the reis of the
Cataract bo prevent our going up.

As we ride to town through the new part, the city looks ex-
ceedingly bright and attractive ; the streets are very broad ; the
handsome square houses — ornamented villas, with balconies,
pillared piazzas, painted with lively figures and in bizarre pat-
terns — stand behind walls overgrown with the convolvulus, and
in the midst of gardens ; plats in the centre of open spaces, and
at the angles of streets are gay with flowers in bloom — chiefiy
scarlet geraniums. The town wears a spring aspect, and would
be altogether bright but for the dust which overlays everything,
houses, streets, fdliage. No amount of irrigation can brighten
the dust-powdered trees.

When Ave came to Cairo last fall, fresh from European cities,
it seemed very shabby. Now that we come from Upper Egypt,
with our eyes trained to eight hundred miles of mud-hovels,
Cairo is magnificent. But it is Cairo. There are just as many
people squatting in the dust of the highways as when we last
saw them, and they have the air of not having moved in three
months. ^iVe ride to Shepherd's Hotel, there are twenty drago-
mans for every tourist who wants to go to Syria, there is the
usual hurty of arrival and departure, and no one to be found ;
we call at the consul's, it is not his hour ; v/e ride through the
blindest ways tQ the bankers, in the Rosetti Gardens (don't
imagi:je tl'iere is any garden theie), they do no business from
welve t-o three. It is impossible to accomplish anything in

if.JM"«>»Mii»"M*

it one of
anner.
We have
3s is our
Cataract.
3 up the
up. His
ice to his

increased
jain their
ife. The
3 the day.
ve that it
Bis of the

looks ex-

»road; the

balconies,

zarre pat-

t^ulus, and

)aces, and

chiefly

nd would

erything,

brighten

san cities,
|er Egypt,
id-hovels,
It oj? many
)n we last

in three
ity drago-
|re is the

)e found ;
lough the
Ins (don't

Less from

^thing in

THE KHEDIVE.

40 1

Cairo without calm delay. And, tailing into the mode, we find
ourselves sauntering through one of the most picturesque quar-
ters, the bazaar of Khan Khal6el, feasting the eye on the
Oriental splendors of silks, embroidered stuffs, stiff with gold
and silver, sown with pearls, antique Persian brasses, old arms
of the followers of Saladin. How cool, how quiet it is. All
the noises are soft. Noises enough there are, a babel of trafiic,
jostling, pushing, clamoring ; and yet we have a sense of quiet
in it ail. There is no rudeness, r o angularity, no glare of sun.
At times you feel an underflow of silence. I know no place so
convenient for meditation as the recesses of these intricate
bazaars. Their unlikeness to the streets of otlver cities is mainly
in the absence of any harl pavement. From the moment you
come into the Mooskee, you strike a silent way, no noise of
\\^ieels or hoofs, nor footfalls of the crowd. It is this absence
of foot-fall patter, which is always heard in our streets, that
gives us the impression here of the underflow of silence.

Keturning through the Ezbekeeh Park, and through the new
streets, we are glad we are not to judge the manhood of Egypt
by the Young Egypt we meet here, nor the future of Egypt by
the dissolute idlers of Cairo and Alexandria. From Cairo to
Wady Halfeh we have seen men physically well developed, fine
specimens of their race, and better in Nubia than in Egypt
Proper ; but these youths are feeble, and of unclean appear-
ance, even in their smart European dress. They are not unlike
the effeminate and gilded youth of Italy that one sees in the
cities, or Parisians of the same class. Egypt, which needed a
different importation, has added most of the vices of Europe to
its own ; it is noticeable that the Italians, who emigrate else-
where little, come here in great numbers, and men and women
alike take kindly to this loose feebleness. French as well as
Italians adapt themselves easily to Eastern dissoluteness. The
French have never shown in any part of the globe any preju-
dice against a mingling of races. The mixture 'lere of the
youths of the Latin races and the worn-out Orientals, who are a
little polished by a lacquer of European vice, is not a good
omen for Egypt. Happily such youths are feeble, and, I trust,
not to be found outside the two large cities.

The great question in Egypt, among foreigners and observei-a
(there ia no great question among the common people) is abou^
26

402

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

P '

the Khedive, Ismail Pasha, his policy and his real intentions
with reigard to the country. You will hear three distinct
opinions ; one from devout Moslems, another from the English,
and a third from the Americans. The strict and conservative
Moslems like none of the changes and innovations, and express
not too much confidence in the Khedive's religion. He has
bought pictures and statues for his palaces, he has marble images
of himself, he has set up an equestrian statue in the street; all
this is contrary to the religion. He introduces European man
ners and costumes, every government employe is obliged to wear
European dress, except the tarboosh. What does he want with
such a great army ; why are the taxes so high, and growing
higher every day %

With the Americans in Cairo, as a rule, the Khedive is popu-
lar; they sympathize with his ambition, and think that he hae
the good of Egypt at heart; almost uniformly they defend him.
The English, generally, distrust the Khedive and criticise his
every movement. Scarcely ever have I heard Englishmen
speak well of the Khedive and his policy. Thoy express a want
of confidence in the sincerity of his efforts to suppress the slave-
trade, for one thing. How much the fact that American officers
are preferred in the Khedive's service has to do with the Eng-
lish and American estimate, I do not know; the Americans are
naturally preferred' over all others, for in case of a European
complication over Egypt they would have no entangling
alliances.

The Americans point to what has actually been accomplished
by the prehuiit Viceroy, the radical improvements in tlie direc-
tion of a better civilization, improvements which already change
the aspect of Egypt to the most casual observer. There are
the railroads, which intersect the Delta in all directions, and
extend over two hundred and fifty miles up the Nile, and the
adventurous iron track which is now following the line of the
telegraph to distant Kartoom. There are the canals, the Sweet-
Water that runs from Cairo and makes life on the Isthmus
possible, and the network of irrigating canals and system of
ditches, which have not only transformed the Delta, but have
changed its climate, increasing enormously the rainfall. No
one who has not seen it can have any conception of the magni-
tude of this irrigation by canals which all draw water from the

■fteaa

Mentions
distinct
3ngiisli,
jrvative

express
He has
3 images
reet ; all
an man

to wear
ant with
growing

is popn-
.t he hae
end him.
icise his
ylishmen
s a want
he slave-
n ofl&cers
the Eng-
ic'ins are
luropean
tangling

nplished
le direc-
y change
bere are
ms, and
and the
e of the
e Sweet-
IsthiLUS
rstem of
>ut have
%\l No
3 magni-
rom the

THE KHEDIVE.

403

Nile, nor of the immense number 01 laborers necessary to keep
the canals in repair. Talk of the old Pharaohs, and their mag-
nificent canals, projected or constructed, and their vaunted
expeditions of conquest into Central Africa ! Their achieve-
ments, take them all together, are not comparable to the mai-vels
the Khedive is producing under our own eyes, in spite of a
people ignorant, superstitious, reluctant. He does not simply
make raids into Africa ; he occupies vast territories, he has ab-
solutely stopped the Nile slave-trade, he lias converted the great
slave-traders into his allies, by making it more their interest to
develope legitimate commerce than to deal in flesh and blood ;
he has permanently opened a region twice as large as Egypt to
commercial intercourse ; he sends explorers and scientific expe-
ditions into the heart of Africa. It is true that he wastes
money, that he is robbed and cheated by his servants, but he
perseveres, and behold the results. Egypt is waking out of
its sleep, it is annexing territory, and population by milliouB,
it is becoming a power. And Ismail Pasha is the centre and
spring of the whole movement.

Look at Cairo ! Since the introduction 0/ gas, the opening
of broad streets, the tearing down of some of the worst rook-
eries, the admission of sun and air, Cairo is exempt from the
old epidemics, the general health is improved, and even that
scourge, ophthalmia, has diminished. You know his decree
forbidding early marriages ; you know he has established and
encourages schools for girls; you see what General Stone is
doing in the edu';ation of the common soldiers, and in his train-
ing of those who show any aptitude in engineering, draughting,
and the scientific accomplishments of the military profession.

Thus the warmest admirers of the Khedive speak. His des-
potism, which is now the most absolute in the world, perhaps,
and least disputed, is referred to as a " personal government."
And it is difficult to see how under present circumstances it
could be anything else. There is absolutely in Egypt no
material for anything else. The Khedive has annually sum-
moned, for several years, a sort of parliament of the chief men
of Egypt, for information and consultation. At first it was
difficult to indu'^e the members to say a word, to give any in-
formation or utter an opinion. It is a new thing in a despotic
government, the shadow eveu of a parliament.

! i

h !

404

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

An English gentleman in Cairo, and a very intelligent man,
gives the Khedive credit for nothing but a selfish desire to en-
rich himself, to establish his own family, and to enjoy the tra-
ditional pleasures of the Orient.

" But he is suppressing the slave-trade."

" He is trying to make England believe so. Slaves still come
to Cairo ; not so many down the Nile, but by the desert. I
found a slave-den in some desert tombs once over the other
side the river ; horrible treatment of women and children ; a
caravan came from Darfoor by way of Assiout."

" But that route is cut off by the capture of Darfoor."

" Well, you'll see ; slaves will come if they are wanted.
Why, look at the Khedive's harem !"

" He hasn't so many wives as Solomon, who had seven hun-
dred ; the Khedive has only four."

"Yes, but he hap more concubines ; Solomon kept only three
hundred ; the Khedive has four hundred and fifty, and perhaps
nearer five hundred. Some of them are beautiful Circassians
for whom it is said he paid as much as £2000 and even £3000
sterling."

" I suppose that is an outside price. "

" Of course, but think of the cost of keeping them. Then,
each of his four wives has her separate palace and establish-
ment. Rather an expensive family."

" Almost as costly as the royal family of England. "

" That's another arfair ; to say nothing of the difference of
income. The five hundred, more or less, concubines are under
the charge of the Queen-mother, but they have carte blanche in
indulgence in jewels, dress, and all that. They wear the most
costly Paris modes. They spend enormous sums in pearls and
diamonds. They have their palaces re-furnished whenever the
whim seizes them, re-decorated in European style. Where
does the money come from ? You can see that Egypt is taxed
to death. I heard to-day that the Khedive was paying seven-
teen per cent, for money, money borrowed to pay the interest on
his private debts. What does he do with the money he raises?"

" Spends a good deal of it on his improvements, canals, rail-
roads, on his army. "

"I think he runs in debt for his improvements. Look again
at his family. He has something like forty palaces, costing

■^h«»'«

'Wll UM

THE KHEDIVE.

40s

ent man,
ire to en-
tile tra-

still come
esert. I
jhe other
ildren ; a

wanted.

!ven hun-

nly three
d perhaps
Lrcassians
en £3000

Then,
establish-

'erence of
ire under
lanche in

ihe most
earls and
lever the
Where

is taxed
ig seven-

;erest on
5 raises?"
lals, rail-

ok again
costing

from one half-million to a million dollars each ; some of them,
which he built, he has never occupied, many of them are empty,
many of those of his predecessors, which would lodge a thousand
people, are going to decay ; and yet he is building new ones all
the time. There are two or three in process of erection on the
road to the pyramids. "

" Perhaps they are for his sons or for his high officers.
Victor Emanuel, whose treasury is in somewhat the condition
of the Khedive's, has a palace in every city of Italy, and yet
he builds more. "

" If the Khedive is building for his children, I give it up.
He has somewhere between twenty and thirty acknowledged
children. But he does give away palaces and houses. When
he has done with a pretty slave, he may give her, with a palace
or a fine house here in town, to a favorite oflicer. I can show
you houses here that were taken away from their owners, at a
price fixed by the Khedive and not by the owner, because the
Viceroy wanted them to give away with one or another of his
concubines. "

" I suppose that is Oriental custom. "

" I thought you Americans defended the Khedive on account
of his progressive spirit. "

" He is a man who is accomplishing wonders, trammelled as
he is by usages thousands of years old, which appear monstrous
to us, but are to him as natural as any Oriental condition. Yet
I confess that he stands in very contradictory lights. If ho
knew it, he could do the greatest service to Egypt by abolish-
ing his harem of concubines, converting it into — I don't know
what — a convent or a boarding-school, or a milliner's shop, or
an establishment for canning fruit — and then set the example
of living, openly, with one wife. "

" Wait till he does. And you talk about the condition of
Egypt ! Every palm-tree, and every sakiya is taxed, and the
tax has doubled within a few years. The taxes are now from
one pound and a half to three pounds an acre on all lands not
owned by him. "

" In many cases, I knor/ this is not a high tax (compared
with taxes elsewhere) considering the yield of the land, and
the enormous cost of the irrigating canals. "

" It is high for such managers as the fellahs. But they will

4o6

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

I- I

i i

not have to complain long. The Khedive is getting into his
own hands all the lands of Egypt. He owns I think a third of
it now, and probably half of it is in his family ; and this is
much the better land. "

" History repeats itself in Egypt. He is following the ex-
ample of Joseph who, you know, taking advantage of the fa-
mine, wrung all the land, except that in possession of the
priests, from the people, and made it over to Pharaoh. By
Joseph's management the king owned, before the famine was
over, not only all the land, but all the money, all the cattle,
and all the people of Egypt. And he let the land to them for
a fifth of its increase. "

" I don't know that it is any better because Egypt is used
to it. Joseph was a Jew. The Khedive pretends to be in-
fluenced by the highest motives, the elevation of the condition
of the people, the regeneration of Egypt. "

" I think he is sincerely trying to improve Egypt and th.j
Egyptians. Of course a despot, reared in Oriental prejudices,
is slow to see that you can't make a nation except by making
men; that you can't make a rich nation unless individuals
have free scope to accumulate property. I confess that the
chief complaint I heard up the river was that no one dared to
show that he had any money, or to engage in extensive busi-
ness, for fear he would be * squeezed.'"

" So he would be. The Khedive has some sixteen sugar-
factories, worked by forced labour, v^ery poorly paid. They
ought to be very profitable."

"They are not."

"Well, he wants more money, at any rate. I have just
heard that he is resorting to a forced loan, in the form of
bonds. A land- owner is required to buy them in the propor-
tion of one dollar and a half for each acre he owns ; and he is
to receive seven per cent, interest on the bonds. In Cairo a
person is required to take these bonds in a certain proportion
on his personal property. And it is said that the bonds are
not transferable, and that they will be worthl^^s to the heirs.
I heard of this new dodge from a Copt." ^

" I suppose the Khedive's friends would say that he is try-
ing to change Egypt in a day, whereas it is the work of genera-
tions."

miim

^mmmmmmmmmmmmm

THE KHEDIVE.

407

g into his

a third of

nd this is

ig the ex-
of the fa-
)n of the
raoh. By
inline was
he cattle,
> them for

pt is used
to be in-
condition

1 and tho
rejvidices,
y making
idividuals
that the
dared to
dve busi-

sen sugar-
d. They

bave just
) form of
e propor-
md he is
a Cairo a
roportion
>onds are
he heirs.

he is try-
f genera-

When we returned to the dahabeeh wo had a specimen of
"personal government." Abd-el-Atti was standing on the
deck, slipping his beads, and looking down.

** What has happened 1"

"Ahman, been took him."

" Who took him ?"

_ " Police, been grab him first time ho go 'shore, and lock
him up."

" What had he been doing 1"

*' Nothing ho been done ; I send him up town of errand ;
police catch him right out there."

"What for?"

" Take him down to Soudan to work ; tho vice-royal he issue
an order for the police to catch all the black fellows in Cairo,
and take 'em to the Soudan, down to Gondokora for what I
know, to work the land there."

" But Ahman is our servant ; he can't be seized.
, " Oh, I know, Ahman belong to me ; he was ruy slave till I
gave him liberty ; I go to get him out directly. These people
know me, I get him off."

" But if you had no influence with the police, Ahman would
be dragged off to Soudan to work in a cotton or rice field V

" Lots of black fellows like him senc of. But I get him
back, don't you have worry. What the vice-royal to do with
my servant— I don't care if he Kin' of Constantinople !"

Sure enough, early in the evening the handsome Abyssinian
boy came back, none the worse, except for a thorough scare,
eyes and teeth shining, and bursting into his usual hearty laugh
upon allusion to his capture.

" Police «ye6 ?"

'' Moosh4i/eb" ("bad"), with an explosion of merriment.
^ The boy hadn't given himself much uneasiness, for he regards
his master as his Providence.

We are moored at the dock and below the lock of the Sweet-
water Canal which runs to Ismailia. A dredge-boat lies in the
entrance, and we have an opportunity of seeing how govern-
ment labour is performed ; we can understand why it is that so
many labourera are needed, and that the great present want of
Egypt is stout and willing arms.

In the entrance of the canal and in front of the lock is a flat-

it !

'. \

;

408

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

boat upon which are fifteen men. They liave two iron scoops,
which would hold about a gallon each ; to each is attached a
long pole and a rope. Two men jab the pole down and hold
the pot on the bottom, while half a dozen pull leisurely on the
rope, with a " yah-sah" or other chorus, and haul in the load ;
when it comes up, a man scrapej* out the mud with his hand,
sometimes not getting more than two quarts. It is very rest-
ful to watch their unexhausting soil. It takes several minutes
to capture a pot of sand. There are fifteen men at this spoon-
work, but one scoop is only kept going at a time. After it is
emptied, the men stop and look about, converse a little, and get
ready for another effort, standing meantime in liquid mud,
ankle-deep. When they have rested, over goes the scoop again,
and the men stand to the rope, and pull feebly, but only at in-
tervals, that is when they sing the response to the line of the
leader. The programme of singing and pulling is something
like this :

Salee ah nadd (voice of the leader).

Yalee, halee (chorus, pull altogether).

Salee ah nadd.

Yalee, halee (pull).

Salee ah nadd.

Yalee halee (pull).

And the outcome* of three or four minutes of hauling and
noise enough to raise a ton, is about a quart of mud !

The river panorama is always varied and entertaining, and
we are of a divided mind between a lazy inclination to sit here
and watch the busy idleness of the population, or address our-
selves to the much that still remains to be seen in Cairo. I
ought to speak, however, of an American sensation on the
river. This is a little steam-yacht, fifty feet long by seven and
a half broad — which we saw up the Nile, where it attracted
more attention along the banks than anything else this season.
I call it American, because it carries the American flag and is
owned by a New York art student, Mr. Anderson, and an
English- American, Mr. Medler; but the yacht was built in
London, and shipped on a large steamboat to Alexandria. It
is the first steam vessel, I believe, carrying anything except
Egyptian (or Turkish) colours that has ever been permitted to
ftscend the Nile, We took a trip on it one fine morning up toHel-

fmmmm

THE KHEDIVE.

409

ig and

wan, and enjoyed the animation of its saucy speed. When put
to its best, it makes eighteen miles an liour ; but life would not
be as long on it as it is on a dahabooli. At ITolwun uro some
hot sulphur-springs, famous and much resorted to in tlio days
of the Pharaohs, and just now becoming fashionable again.

Our days pass we can hardly say how, while wo wait for the
proper seavson for Syria, and regard the invincible obstacles that
debar us from the longed-for desert journey to Sinai and Arabia
Petrea. The l)azaars are always a refuge from the heat, a never-
failing entertainment. Wo s})end hours in lounging through
them. We lunch at the shops of the sweotmcat makers, on
bread, pistachio nuts, conserve of roses, I know not what, and
Nile-water, with fingans of coffee fetched hot and creamy from
the shop near by. We give a copper to an occasional beggar :
for beggars are few in the street, and those arc either blind or
very poor, or derweeshes ; and to all these, being regarded as
Allah's poor, the Moslems give cheerfully, for charity is a part
of their religion. We like also to stand at the doors of the
artisans. There is a street where all the workmen are still
making the old flint-lock guns and pistols, and the firearms
with the flaring blunderbuss muzzles, as if the object were to
scatter the charge, and hit a great many peof)lc but to kill none.
I think the Peace Society would do well to encourage this kind
of gun. There are shops also where a man sits before a heap
of flint-chalk, chipping the stone with a flat iron mallet, and
forming the flints for the antiquated locks.

We happen to come often in our wanderings, the distinction
being a matter of luck, upon a very interesting old city gate of
one of the quarters. The gate itself is a wooden one of two
leaves, crossed with iron bands fastened with heavy spikes, and
not remarkable except as an illustration of one of the ])opular
superstitions of the Arabs. The wood is driven full of nails,
bits of rags flutter on it, and human teeth are crowded under
the iron bands. It is believed that if a person afflicted with
headache will drive a nail into this door he will never have the
headache again. Other ills are relieved by other offerings, bits
of rag, teeth, etc. It would seem to be a pretty sure cure for
toothache to leave the tooth in this gate. The Arabs are called
the most superstitious of peoples, they wear charms against the
evil-eye (" charm from the eye of girl, sharper than a spike ;

■•«r'*«r'^n«» tmm»

410

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS

charm from the oye of boy, more painful than a whip"), and
thoy have a thousand absurd practices. Yet we can match
most of thom in Christian communities.

Hovv patiently all the i>eoplo work, and wait. Complaints are
rare. The only reproof I ever received was from a donkey-boy,
whom I had kept waiting late on^ evening at the Hotel Nil.
When I roused him from his sleep on the ground, he asked,
with an accent of weariness, " how much clock you got 1 **

By the twenty-third day of March it is getting vz-arm ; the
thermometer is 81°. It is not simply the heat, but the Khama-
Heen, the south wind, the smoky air, the dust in the city, the
languor. To-day it rained a few drops, and looked threatening,
just as it does in a hot summer day at home. The outskirts of
Cairo are enveloped in dust, and the heat begins to simmer
over the palaces and gardens. The travellers are leaving. The
sharp traders, Jews from Bagdad, Syrians, Jews from Con-
stantinople, Greels, Armenians from Damascus, all sorts, are
packing up their goods, in order to meet the traveller and
fleece him agi*in in Jerusal m, in Bcyrout, in Damascus, in
Smyrna, on the Golden Horn. In the outskirts, especially on
the open grounds by the canal, are the coffee-booths and dance-
shanties — rows of the di"reputable. The life, always out of
doors even in the jvinter, is now more flamboyantly displayed
in these open and verrndahed dwellings ; there is a yield-
ing to the relaxation of summer. We hear at night, as we
sit on the deck o^ our dahabeeh, the throbbing of the daraboo-
kah-drum and <"^" nonotonous songs of the dissolute ones.

ip"), and
an match

laints aro
ikoy-boy,
[otel Nil.
10 askod|
ot]"

arm ; tliG
) Khama-

city, the
eatening,
tskirts of
simmer
ing. Tho
om Con-
sorts, are
aller and
lasciis, in
icially on
id dance-
;^s out of
lisplayed

a yield-
lit, as we

daraboo-
►nes.

CIIAPTEK XXXIV.

THE WOODEN MAN.

^HE Khedive and his court, if it may be so called, are
not hedged iii by any formidable barriers ; but there
are peculiarities of etiquette. "When his Highness
gives a grand ball and public reception, of course only the
male members of liis household are present, only the men of
the Egyptian society; it would in fact be a male assembly but
for the foreign ladies visiting or residing in the city. Of course
there cannot be any such thing as "society" under such cir-
cumstaiiciis ; and as there axe no women to regulate the ball
invitations, the assembly is " mixed." There is no such thing
as reciprocity with the Arabs and Turks ; they are willing to
meet the wives or the female friends of all foreignei-s ; they
never show their own.

If a lady visiting Cairo wishes to visit one of the royal
harems, it is necessary that her husband or some gentleman of
her party should first be presented to the Khedive. After
this ceremony, notice is received through the chamberlain of
the Viceroy that the lady will be received on such a day and
hour, in a palace named, by her Highness So-So. • Which
Highness 1 That you can never tell before the notice is
received. It is a matter of royal convenience at the time. In
a family so large and varied as that of the Khedive, you can
only be presented to a fragment of it. You may be received
by one of his wives ; it may please the Queen-mother, who is
in charge of his largest harem, to do the honours ; or the wife
of the heir-apparent, or of one of the younger sons, may open
her doors to you. I suppose it is a good deal a matter of whim
with the inmates of the harem ; sometimes they are tired of
seeing strangers and of dressing for them. Usually they are

mmmf^

»im *m I iVii

'ti

r ;

111 I

■U !;.

412

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMo.

eager to break the monotony of their lives with a visit that
promises to show them a new costume. There is only one
condition made as io the dress of the lady who is to be received
at a royal harem ; she must not wear black. There is a super-
stition connected with a black dress, it puts the inmates of the
harem in low spirits. Gentlemen presented to the Khedive
wear the usual evening dress.

The Khedive's winter-residence is the Palace of Abdcen,
not far from the Ezbekeeh, and it was there that Dr. Lamborn
and myself were presented to his Highness by Mr. Beardsley,
our consul-general. Nothing regal could be more simple or
less ceremonious. We arrived at the door at the moment fixed,
for the Khedive is a man of promptness, and I imagine has his
entire day parcelled out in engagements. We first entered a
spacious entrance-hall, from which a broad stairway leads to
the first story ; here were thirty or forty janizaries, gentlemen-
in-waiting, and eunuchs, standing motionless, at the sides, and
guarding the approach to the stairway, in reception attitudes.
Here we were received by an attendant who conducted us to a
room on the lefc, where we Avere introduced to the chamber-
lain, and deposited our outer coats and hats. The chamberlain
then led us to the foot of the stairs, but accompanied us no
further ; we ascended to the first landing, and turning to
another broad stairway saw the Khedive awaiting us at the
head of it. He was unattended ; indeed we saw no officer or
servant on this floor. The furniture above and below was
European, except the rich, thick carpets of Turkey and Persia.

His Highness, who wore a dress altogether European except
the fez, received us cordially, shaking hands and speaking with
simplicity, as a private gentleman might, and, wasting no time
in Oriental compliments, led the way to a small reception-room
furnished in blue satin. We were seated together in a corner
of the apartment, and an animated \:alk at once began. Dr.
Lambom's special errand was to ascertain whether Egypt would
be represented in our Centennial, about which the Khedive
was well informed. The conversation then passed to the
material condition of Egypt, the development of its resources,
its canals and railroads, and especially the new road into
Soudan, and the opening of Darfour. The Khedive listened
attentively to any practical information, either about railroads,

THE WOODEN MAN.

413

visit that
only one
I received
} a super-
tes of the
Khedive

Abdeen,

Lamborn

Jeardsley,

simple or

ent fixed,

le has his

entered a

Y leads to

intleraen-

ddes, and

attitudes.

id us to a

chamber-

,mberlain

ied us no

ng to

us at the

officer or

ow was

Persia.

in except

ing with

no time

ion-room

a corner

in. Dr.

pt would

Khedive

to the

sources,

ad into

listened

ailroads,

factories, or agriculture, that my companions were able to give
him, and had the air of a man eager to seize any idea that
might be for the advancement of Egypt ; when he himself
spoke, it was with vivacity, shrewdness, and good sense. And
he is not without a gleam of humour now and then, — a very
hopeful quality in a sovereign and especially in an Oriental
ruler.

The Khedive, in short, is a person to in^spire confidence ; he
appears to be an aMe, energetic man of afitiirs, quick and reso-
lute ; there is not the sligh\-est stiffness or " divine right "
pretence in his manner. He is short, perhai)6 five feet seven
or eight inches in height, and stout. He has a well-propor-
tioned, solid head, good features, light complexion, and a
heavy, strong jaw, which his closely-trimmed beard does not
conceal. I am nou sure that the penetration of his glance does
not gain a little fi'om a slight defect in one eye — tlie result of
ophthalmia in his boyhood.

When the interview had lasted about fifteen minutes, the
Khedive ended it by rising ; at the head of the stai»-s we shook
hands and exchanged the proper speeches ; at the bottom of
the first flight we turned and bowed, his Highness still stand-
ing and bowing, and then we saw him no more. As we passed
out an order had come from above which set the whole house-
hold in a flurry of proparation, a running hither and thither
as for speedy departure — the sort of haste that is mingled
with fear, as for the command of a power thai; will not brook
an instant's delay.

Exaggerated notions are current about harems and harem-
receptions, notions born partly of the seclusion of the female
portion of the household in the East. Of course the majority
of harems in Egypt are simply the apartment of the one wife
and her children. The lady who enters one of them pays an
ordinary call, and finds no mystery whatever. If there is more
than one wife, a privileged visitor, able to converse with the
inmates, might find some skeletons behind the screened win-
dows. It is also true that a foreign lady ma^' enter one of
the royal harems and be received with scarcely more ceremony
than would attend an ordinary call at home. The receptions
at which there is grea'; display, at which crowds of beautifnl or
ugly slaves line the apartments, at which there is music and

414

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

I; K

dancing ty alraehs, an endless service of sweets and pipes and
coffee, and a dozen changes of dress by the hostess during the
ceremony, are not frequent, are for some special occasion, the
celebration of a marriage, or the entertainment of a visitor of
high rank. One who expects, upon a royal invitation to the
harem, to wander into the populous dove-cote of the Khedive,
where laiguish the beauties of Asia, the sisters from the
Gardens c»f Gul, pining for a new robe of the mode from Paris,
will be most cruelly disappointed.

But a harem remains a harem, in the imagination. The ladies
went one day to the house — I suppose it is a harem — of Hus-
sein, the waiter who has served us with unremitting fidelity
and cleverness. The house was one of the orcina:- 'ort of un-
burnt brick, very humble, but perfectly tidy L-,a L.ight. The
secret of its cheerfulness was in a nice, cheery, happy little
wife, who made a home for Hussein such as it was a pleasure
to see in I'jgypt. They had four children, the eldest a daughter,
twelve ye^irs old and very good-mannered and pretty. As she
was of marriageable age, her parents were beginning to think
of settling her in life.

" What a nice girl she is, Hussein," says Madame.

" Yes'm," says Hussein, waving his hands in his usual
struggle with the English language, and uttering the longest
speech ever heard, from him in that tongue, but still speaking
as if aboul; something at table, "yes'm ; good man have it ^'ad
man. drinkin' man, smokin' man, eatin' man not have i+..

I will describe briefly two royal presentations, one i> ■ 3
favorite w ifo of the Khedive, the other to the wife of Moha.
med Tufik Pasha, the eldest son and heir-apparent, according
to the late revolution in the rules of descent. French, the
court language, is ypoken not only by the Khedive but by all
the ladies of his family who receive foreigners. The lady who
was presented to the Khedive's wife, after passing the usual
guard of ounuchs in the palace, was escorted through a long
suite of slicwy apartments. In each one she was introduced
to a maid of honor who escorted her to the next, each lady-in-
waiting being more richly attired than her predecessor, and
the lady was always thinking that now this one must be the
princess herself. Female slaves were in every room, and a
great nuaiber of them waited in the hall where the princess

pipes and
uring the
asion, the
visiter of
►n to the
Khedive,
from the
om Paris,

rhe ladies
—of Hiis-
,g fidelity
ort of iin-
^ht. The
ppy little
I pleasure
daughter,
As she
r to think

lis usual
e longest
speaking
e it ^'tid

le t. : 3
Mohai^:
iccording
jnch, the
ut by all
ady who
he usual
a long
roduced
lady-in-
jsoi*, and
t be the
, and a
princess

THE WOODEN MAN.

415

received her visitor. She was a strikingly handsome woman,
dressed in pink satin and encrusted with diamonds. The con-
versation consisted chiefly of the most exaggerated and bare-
faced compliments on both sides, both as to articles of apparel
and personal appearance. Coflee, cigarettes, and sweets with-
out end, in cups of gold set with precious stones, were served
by the female slaves. The wife was evidently delighted with
the impression made by her beauty, her jewels, and her rich
dress.

The wife of Tufik Pasha received at one of the palaces in
the sub\irbs. At the door eunuchs were in waiting to conduct
the visitors up the flight of marble steps, and to deliver them
to female slaves in waiting. Passing up several broad stair-
ways, they were ushered into a grand reception-hall furnished
in European style, except the divans. Only a few servants
were in attendance, and they were white female slaves. The
princess is petite, pretty, intelligent, and attractive. She re-
ceived her visitors with entire simplicity, and without ceremony,
as a lady would receive callers in America. The conversation
ran on the opera, the travel on the Nile, and topics of the
town. Cofiee and cigarettes were offered, and the sensible in-
terview ended like an accidental visit. It is a little disen-
chanting, all this adoption of European customs ; but the wife
of Tufik Pasha should ask him to go a little further, and send
all the eunuchs out of the palace.

We had believed that summer was come. But we learned
that March in Cairo is-, like the same month thu world over,
treacherous. The morning of the twenty-sixth was cold, the
thermometer 60°. A north wind began to blow, and by after-
noon increased to a gale, such as had not been known liere for
years. The town was enveloped in a whirldwind of sand ;
everything loose was shaking and flying , it was impossible co
see one's way, and people scudding about the streets with their
heads drawn under their robes continually dashed into each
other. The sun was wholly hidden. From our boat we could
see only a few rods over the turbulent river. The air was so
thick with sand that it had the appearance of a yellow canvas.
The desert had invaded the air — that was all. The effect of
the light through this was extremely weird ; not like a dark
day of clouds and storm in New England, but a pale, yellowish-

4i6

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

ii '

greenish, phantasmagoric light, which seemed to presage calam-
ity. Such a light as may be at the Judgment Day. Cairo
friends who dined with us said they had never seen such a day
in Egypt. Dahabeehs were torn from their moorings ; trees
were blown down in the Ezbekiieh Gardens.

We spent the day, as we had spent other days, in the Museum
of Antiquities at Boulak. This wonderful collection, which is
the work of Marictte Bey, had a thousand times more interest
for us now than before we made the Nile voyage and acquired
some knowledge of ancient Egypt through its monuments.
Everything that we saw had meaning — statues, mummy-cases,
images, scarabtei, seals, stelsB, gold jewelry, and the simple articles
in domestic use.

It must be confessed that to a person uninformed about
Egypt and unaccustomed to Jts ancient art, there is nothing in
the world so dreary as a collection of its antiquities. The end-
less repetition o^ designs, the unyielding rigidity of form, the
hideous mingling of the human and the bestial, the dead
formality, are insufferably wearisome. The mummy is tho-
roughly disagreeab^ 3, You can easily hate him and all his
belongings ; there is an air of infinite conceit about him ; I feel
it i>i the exclusive box in which he stands, in the smirk of his
face painted on l^is case. I wonder if it is the perkishuess of
immortality — as if his race alone were immortal. His very
calmness, like that of so many of the statues he made, is
an offensive contempt. It is no doubt, unreasonable, but as a
living person I resent this intrusion of a preserved dead person
into our warm times, — an appearance anachronistic and
repellant.

But as an illustration of Egyptian customs, art, and history,
the Boulak museum is almost a fascinating place. True, it is not
so rich in many respects as some European collections of
Egyptian antiquities, but it has some objects that are unique ;
for instance, the jewels of Queen Aah-hotep, a few statues, and
some stelsB, which furnish the most important information.

This is not the place, had I the knowledge, to enter upon any

discussion of the antiquity of these monuments or of Egyptian

* ~^, I believe I am not mistaken, however, in saying

scoveries of Mariette Bey tend strongly to establish

|>f the long undervalued list of Egyptian sovereigna

«!•«.

THE WOODEN MAN.

417

le Museum

merl about

made by Manetho, afid that many Oriental scholars agree with
the directors of this museum that the date of the first Egyptian
dynasty is about five thousand years before the Christian era,
But the almost startling thought presented by this collection is
not in the antiquity of some of these objects, but in the long
civilization anterior to their production, and which must have
been necessary to the growth of the art here exhibited.

It could not have been a barbarous people who produced, for
instance, these life-like images found at Maydoon, statues of a
prince and princess who lived under the ancient king Sn6fron,
the last sovereign of the third dynasty, and the predecessor of
Cheops. At no epoch, says M. Mariette, did Egypt produce
portraits more speaking, though they want the breadth of style
of the statue in wood — of which more anon. But it is as much
in an ethnographic as an art view that these statues are
important. If the Egyptian race at that epoch was of the type
offered by these portraits, it resembled in nothing the nice
which inhabited the north of Egypt not many years after
Sn^fron. To comnreheiid the problem here presented we have
only to compare the features of these statues with those of
others in this collection belonging to the fourth and fifth
dynasties.

The best work of art in the Museum is the statue of Chephron,
the builder of the second pyramid. " The epoch of Chephron,"
says M. Mariette, " corresponding to the third reign of the
fourth dynasty of Manetho, our statue is not less than six
thousand years old." It is a life-size sitting figure, executed ir
red granite. We admire its tranquil majesty, we marvel at the
close study of nature in the moulding of the breast and limbs,
we confess the skill that could produce an effect so fine in such
intractable material. It seems as if Egyptian art were about
to burst its trammels. But it never did ; it never exceeded
this cleverness ; on the contrary it constantly fell away from it.

The most interesting statue to us, and perhaps the oldest
image in Egypt, and, if so, in the world, is the Wooden Man,
which was found at Memphis. This image, one metre and ten
centimetres high, stands erect, holding a staff. The figure is
full of life, the pose expresses rigor, action, pride, the head,
round in form, indicates intellect. The eyes are crystal, in a
setting of bronze, giving a startling look of life to the regard.
27

4iS

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

It is no doiibt a portrait. "There is nothing more striking,"
says its discoverer, " than this image, in a manner living, of a
person who has been dead six thousand years." He must have
been a man of mark, and a citizen of a state well civilized ; this
is not the portrait of a barbarian, nor was it carved by a rude
artist. Few artists, I think, have lived since, who could im-
part more vitality to wood.

And if the date assigned to this statue is correct, sculpture
in Egypt attained its maximum of development six thousand
years ago. This conclusion will be i*esisted by many, and on
different grounds. I heard a clergyman of the Church of Eng-
land say to his comrade, as they were looking at this figure : — *

" It's all nonsense ; six thousand years ! It couldn't be.
That's before the creation of man."

" Well," said the other, irreverently, " perhaps this was the
model."

This museum is for the historian, the archaeologist, not for
the artist, except in his study of the history of art. What
Egypt had to impart to the world of arts was given thousands of
years ago— intimations, suggestions, outlines that, in freer circum-
stances, expanded into works of immortal beauty. The highest
beauty, that last touch of genius, that creative inspiration which
is genius and not mere talent, Egyptian art never attained. It
achieved wonders ; they are all mediocre wonders ; miracles of
talent. The architecture profoundly impresses, almost crushes
one ; it never touches the highest in the soul, it never charms,
it never satisfies.

The total impression upon myself of this ancient architecture
and this plastic art is a melancholy one. And I think this is
not altogether due to its monotony. The Egyptian art is said
to be 8ui generis ; it has a character that is instantly recognized ;
whenever and wherever we see a specimen of it, we say with
out fear of mistake, " that is Egyptian." We are as sure of it
as we are of a piece of Greek work of the best age, perhaps
surer. Is Egyptian art, then, elevated to the dignity of a type,
of itself 1 Is it so to be studied, as something which has
flowered into a perfection of its kind 1 I know we are accustom-
rA tD look at it as if it were, and to set tpart ; in short, I
have heard it judg&d absolutely, as if it were a rule to itself. I
cannot bring myself so to look at it. All art is one. Wo

THE WOODEN MAN.

419

Der circum-

recognize peculiarities of an age or of a people ; but there is onlj;
one absolute standard ; to that touchstone all must come.

It seems to me then that the melancholy impression produced
by Egyptian art is not alone from its monotony, its rigidity,
its stiff formality, but it is because we recognizo in it an
arrested development. It is archaic. The peculiarity of it is
that it always remained archaic. We have seen specimens of
the earliest Etruscan figure-drawing, Gen. Cesnola found in
Cyprus Phoenician work, and we have statues of an earlier
period of Greek sculpture, all of which more or less resemble
Egyptian art. The latter are the beginnings of a consummate
development. Egypt stopped at the beginnings. And we have
the sad spectacle of an archaic art, not growing, but elaborated
into a fixed type and adhered to as if it were perfection. In
some of the figures I have spoken of in this museum, you can
find that art was about to emancipate itself. In all later works
you see no such effort, no such tendency, no such hope. It had
been abandoned. By and by impulse died out entirely. For
thousands of years the Egyptians worked at perfecting the
mediocre. Many attribute this remote and total repression to
religious influence. Something of the same sort may be seen
in the paintings of saints in the Greek chambers of the East
to-day ; the type of which is that of the Byzantine period. Are
we to attribute a like arrest of development in China to the
^me cause 1

It is a theory very plausibly sustained, that the art of a
people is the flower of its civilization, the final expression of the
conditions of its growth and its character. In reading Mr.
Taine's ingenious observations upon art in the Netherlands and
art in Greec^, we are ready to assent to the theory. It may be
the general law of a free development in national life and in
art. If it is, then it is not disturbed by the example of Egypt.
Egyptian art is not the expression of the natural character, for
its art was never developed. The Egyptians were a joyous
race, given to mirth, to the dance, to entertainments, to the
charms of society, a people rather gay than grave ; they lived
in the open air, in the most friendly climate in the world. The
sculptures in the early tombs represent their life — an existence
full of gaiety, grace, humor. This natural character is not ex-
pressed in the sombre temples, nor in their symbolic carvings,

420

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

nor in these serious, rigid statues, whose calm faces look
straight on as if into eternity. This art may express the
religion of the priestly caste ; when it had attained the power
to portray the rigid expectation of immortality, the inscrutable
repose of the Sphinx, it was arrested there, and never allowed
in any respect to change its formality. And I cannot but
believe that if it had been free, Egyptian art would have
budded and bloomed into a grace of form in harmony with the
character of the climate and the peopla

It is t: ue that the architecture of Egypt was freer than its
sculptures, but the whole of it together is not worth one edifice
like the Greek temple at Psestum. And to end, by what may
seem a sweeping statement, I have had more pleasure from a
bit of Greek work — an intaglio, or a coin of the best period,, or
the sculpture? of a broken entablature — than from anything
that Egypt ever produced in art. "^

■ ^ ; 9/ii, ixro ^xiiij. UodX

■I f,>

CHAPTEB XXXy.

ON THE WAY HOME.

JOR two days after the sand-storm, it gives us pleasure
to write^ the weather was cold, raw, thoroughly un-
pleasant, resembling dear New England quite enough
to make one homesick. As late as the twenty-eighth
of March, this was. The fact may ha a comfort to those who
dwell in a region where winter takes a. fresh hold in March.

We broke up our establishment on t^^e dahabeeh and moved
to the hotel, abandoning I know not 'low many curiosities,
antiquities and specimens, the possession of which had once
seemed to us of the last importance. I shall spare you the
scene at parting with our crew. It would have been very
touching, but for the backsheesh. Some of them were faithful
fellows to whom we were attached ; some of them were grace-
less scamps. But they all received backsheesh. That is
always the way. It was clearly understood that we should
reward only the deserving and we had again and again resolved
not to give a piastre to certain ones of the crew. But at the
end, the obdurate howadji always softens ; and the Egyptians
know that he will. Egypt is full of good-for-nothings who
have not only received presents but certificates of character
from travellers whom they have disobliged for three months.
There was, however, some discrimination in this case ; back-
sheesh was distributed with some regard to good conduct ; at
the formal judgment on deck, Abd-el-Atti acted the part of
Thoth in weighing out the portions, and my friend took the
rdle of Osiris, receiving, vicariously for all of us, the kisses on
his hand of the grateful cfew. I shall not be misunderstood in
saying that the faithful Soudan boy, Gohah, would have felt

422

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

just as much grief in bidding us good-bye if he had not received
a penny (the rest of the crow would have been inconsolable in
like case) ; his service was always marked by an affectionate
devotion without any thought of reward. He must have had a
magnanimous soul to forgive us for the doses we gave him
when he was ill during the voyage.

We are waiting in Cairo professedly for the weather to be-
come settled and pleasant in Syria — which does not happen,
one year with another, till after the first of April ; but we are
contented, for the novelties of the town are inexhaustible, and
wo are never weary of its animation and picturesque movement.
I suppose I should be held in low estimation if I said nothing
concerning the baths of Cairo. It is expected of every ti*a seller
that he will describe them, or one at least — one is usually
sujficient. Indeed when I have read these descriptions, I have
wondered how the writers lived to tell tlieir story. When a
person has been for hours roasted and stifled, and had all his
bones broken, you could not reasonably expect him to write so
powerfully of the bath as many travellers write who are so
treated. I think these bath descriptions are among the marvels
of Oriental literature ; Mr, Longfellow says of the Roman
Catholic system, that it is a religion of the deep^t dungeons
and the highest towers; the Oriental bath (in literature) is
like this ; the unwashed infidel is first plunged in a gulf of dark
despair, and then he is elevated to a physical bliss that is
ecstatic. The story is too long at each end.

1 had experience of several different baths in Cairo, and I
invariably found them less vigorous, that is milder in treatment,
than the Turkish baths of New York or of Germany. With the
Orientals the bath is a luxury, a thing to be enjoyed, and not
an affair of extreme shocks and brutal surprises. In the bath
itself there is never the excessive heat that I have experienced
in such baths in New York, nor the sudden change of tempera-
ture in water, nor the vigorous manipulation. The Cairo bath,
in my experience, is gentle, moderate, enjoyable. The heat of
the rooms is never excessive, the air is very moist, and water
flows abundantly over the marble floors ; the attendants are apt
to be too lazy to maltreat the bather, and perhaps err in gentle-
ness. You are never roasted in a (Jry air and then plunged
suddenly into cold water. I do not wonder that the Orientals

ON THE WAY HOME.

423

received
liable in
)ctionato
ve bad a
ive him

sr to be-
happen,
fc we are
ble, and
vement.
nothing
imveller

usually
, I have
When a
1 all his
vrite so

are so
marvels
Roman
mgeons
ure) is
of dark
that is

, and I
itment,
''ith the
nd not
le bath
rienced
mpera-
bath,
heat of
water
are apt
gentle-
lunged
ientals

are fond of their bath. Tlio bnths abound, for men and for
women, and the natives pay a veiy small sum for the privilege
of using them. Women make up parties, and spend a good
part of the day in a bath ; having an entei-tninment there
sometimes, and a frolic. It is said that mothers sometimes
choose wives for their sons from girls they see at the baths.
Some of them are used by men in the forenoon and by women
in the afternoon, and I have seen a great crowd of veiled women
waiting at the door at noon. There must be over seventy-tivo
of these public baths in Cairo.

As the harem had not yet gone over to the Gezeereh palace,
we took the opportunity to visH it. This palace was built by
the Khedive, on what was the island of Gezeereh, when a
branch of the Nile was suffered to run to the west of its present
area. The ground is now the seat of gardens, and of the most
interesting botanical and horticultural experiments on the i)art
of the Khedive, under charge of competent scientific men. A
botanist or an arboriculturist would find material in the
nurseries for long study. I was chiefly interested (since I have
belief in the malevolence of some plants) in a sort of murderous
East Indian cane, which grows about fifteen to twenty feet
high, and so rapidly that (we were told) it attains its growth in
a day or two. At any rate it thrusts up its stalks so vigorously
and rapidly that the Indian tyrants have employed it to execute
criminals. Thvg victim is bound to the gi'ound over a bed of
this cane at night, tind in the morning it has grown up through
the body. We need such a vengeful vegetable as this in our
country, to plant round the edges of our city gardens.

The grounds about the palace are prettily, but formally laid
out in flower-gardens, with fountains and a kiosk in the style
of the Alhambra. Near by is a hot-house, with one of the best
collections of orchids in the world ; and not far off is the zoo-
logical garden, containing a menagerie of African birds and
beasts, very well arranged and said to be nearly coniplete.

The palace is a square building of iron and stucco, the light
pillars and piazzas painted in Saracenic designs and Persian
colors, but the whole rather dingy, and beginning to be shabby.
Inside is at once a showy and a comfortable palace, and much
bette' than we expected to see in Egypt ; the carpenter and
mason work are, however, badly done, as if the Khedive had

>/ ■»

424

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

it :

been Hwiiulled by sharp Europeans ; it is full of rich and
costly furniture. The rooms are large and eflfective, and wo saw
a good deal of splendor in hangings and curtains, especially in
the apartments fitted up for the occupation of the Empress
Eugenie. It is wonderful, by the way, with what interest
people look at a bed in which an Empress has slept ; and we
may add awe, for it is usually a broad, high and awful place of
re|)08e. Scattered about the rooms are, in defiance of the Pro-
phet's religion, several paintings, all inferior, and a few busts
(Eou)e of the Khedive) and other pieces of statuary. The place
of honor is given to an American subject, although the group was
executed by an Italian artist. It stands upon the first landing of
the great staircase. An impish-looking young Jupiter is se&ted
on top of a chimney, below which is the suggestion of a house-
roof. Above his head is the point of a lightning-rod. The
celestial electrician is discharging a bolt into the rod, which is
supposed to pass harmless over the roof below. Upon the
pedestal is a medallion, the head of Benjamin ^anklin, and
encircling it, the legend : — Eripuit coelo /ulm 750. The
group looks better than you would imagine from the description.

Beyond the garden is the harem-building, which was under-
going a thorough renovation and refurnishing, in the most gaudy
French style — such being the wish of the ladies who occupy it.
They are eager to discard the beautiful Moorish designs which
once covered the walls and to substitute French decoration.
The dormitory portiohs consist of passages with rooms on each
side, very much like a young ladies' boarding-school ; the rooms
are large enough to accommodate three or four occupants.
While Wv3 were leisurely strolling through the house, we noticed
a great flurry and scurry in the building, and the attendants
came to us in a panic, and made desperate efforts to hurry us
out of the building by a side-entrance, giving signs of woe and
destruction to themselves if we did not flee. The Khedive had
arrived, on horseback, and unexpectedly, to inspect his domestic
hearths.

We rode, one sparkling morning, after a night of heavy rain,
to Heliopolis ; there was no mud, however, the rain having
served to beat the sand firm. Heliopolis is the On of the Bible,
and in the time of Herodotus, its inhabitants were esteemed the
most learned in history of all the Egyptians. The father.in-law

ON THE WAY HOME.

425

and

[ry U8
and
had

lestio

jrain,
Iving
pible,
the
Haw

of Joseph was a priest there, and there Moses and Plato both
learned wisdom. The road is excellent and planted most of the
distance with acacia trees ; there are extensive gardens on eitlujr
hand, plantations of trees, broad fields under cultivation, and
all the way the air was full of the odor of flowei-s, blossoms of
lemon and orange. In luxuriance and riant vegetation it
seemed an Oriental paradise. And the whole of this beautiful
land of verdure, covered now with plantations so valuable, was
a sand-desert as late as 1869. The water of the Nile alone has
changed the desert into a garden.

On the way we passed the race-course belonging to the Khe-
dive, an observatory, and the old palace of Abbtis Pasha, now
in process of demolition, the foundations being bad, like his own.
It is said that the favorite wife of this hated tyrant, who was a
Bedawee girl of rank, always preferred to live on the desert,
and in a tent rath"- than a palace. Here at any rate, on the
sand, lived Abbas I'asha, in hourly fear of assassination by his
enemies. It was not difficult to conjure up the cowering figure
hiding in the recesses of this lonely palace, listening for the
sound of horses' hoofs coming on the city road, and ready to
mount a swift dromedary, which was kept saddled night and
day in the stable, and flee into the desert for Beduween protec-
tion.

At Matar^eh, we turned into a garden to visit the famous
sycamore tree under which the Virgin sat to rest, in the time
of the fl'ght of the Holy Family. It is a large, scrubby-looking
tree, probably two hundred years old. I wonder that it does
not give up the ghost, for every inch of its bark, even to the
small limbs, is cut with names. The Copt, who owns it, to
prevent its destruction, has put a fence about it ; and that also
is covered all over. I looked in vain for the name of " Joseph,"
but could find it neither on the fence nor on the tree.

At Heliopolis one can work up any number of reflections ;
but all he can see is the obelisk, which is sunken somewhat in
the ground. It is more correct, however, to say that the ground
about it, and the whole site of the former town and Temple of
the Sun, have risen many feet since the beginning of the
Christian Era. This is the oldest obelisk in Egypt, and bears
the cartouche of Amenemhe I., the successor of Osirtasen I. —
about three thousand B. c, according to Mariette ; Wilkinson

426

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

and Mariette are only one thousand years apart, on this date
of this monument. The wasps or bees have filled up the letter-
ing on one side, and given it the appearance of being plastered
with mud. There was no place for us to sit down and medi-
tate, and having stood, surrounded by a swarm of the latest
children of the sun, and looked at the remains as long as
etiquette required, without a single historical tremor, we
mounted and rode joyfully city- ward between the lemon hedges.

In this spring-time, late in the afternoon, the fashionable
drive out the Sboobra road, under the arches of sycamore trees,
is more thronged than in winter even. Handsome carriages
appear, and now and then a pair of blooded Arab horses. There
HIS two lines of vehicles extending for a mile or so, the one
going out and the other returning, and the round of the prom-
enade continues long enough for everybody to see everybody.
Conspicuous always are the neat two-horse cabriolets, lined
with gay silks, and belonging to the royal harem ; outriders are
in advance, and eunuchs behind, and within each are two fair
and painted Circassians, shilling in their thin white veils, look-
ing from the windows, eager to see the world, and not averse
to be seen by it. The veil hus become with them, as it is in
Constantinople, a mere pretext and a heightener of beauty.
We saw by chance one day some of these birds of paradise
abroad in the Shopbra Gai-den — and live to speak of it.

The Shoobra palace and its harem, hidden by a high wall,
were built by Mohammed Ali ; he also laid out the celebrated
garden ; and the establishment was in his day no doubt the
handsomest in the East. The garden is still rich in rare trees,
fruit-trees, native and exotic, shrubs, and flowers, but fallen
into a too common Oriental decay. Instead of keeping up this
fine place the Khedive builds a new one. These Oriental
despots erect costly and showy palaces, in a manner that invites
decay, and their successors build new ones, i^ people get new
suits of clothes instead of wearing the garments of their fathers.

In the midst of the garden is a singular summer-palace, built
upon, terraces and hidden by trees ; but the great attraction is
ik& immense Kiosk, the most characteristic Oriental building I
have seen, and a very good specimen of the costly and yet cheap
magnificence of the Orient. It is a large square pavillion, the
centre of which is a little lake, but large enough for boats, and

ON THE WAY HOME.

427

this date
he letter-
plastered
ind medi-
ihe latest
J long as
3mor, we
HI hedges,
ishionable
lore trees,
carriages
;s. There
o, the one
the prom-
sverybody.
lets, lined
itriders are
re two fair
veils, look-
not averse
as it is in
of beauty.
)f paradise

It.

high wall,

celebrated

doubt the
rare trees,
but fallen
ing up this
}e Oriental
ihat invites
)le get new
leir fathers.
)alace, built
attraction is
I building I
d yet cheap
.vilUon, the

boats, and

it has an orchesti-al platform in the middle ; the verandah about
this is supported on marble pillars and has a highly-decorated
ceiling ; carvings in marble abound ; and in the corners are
apartments decorated in the height of barbaric splendor.

The pipes are still in place which conveyed gas to every
corner and outline of this bizarre edifice. I should like to have
seen it illuminated on a summer night when the air was heavy
with the garden perfumes. I should like to have seen it then
thronged with the dark-eyed girls of the North, in their fleecy
splendors of drapery, sailing like water-nymphs in these fairy
boats, flashing their diamonds in the mirror of this pool, dancing
down the marble floor to the music of soft drums and flutes
that beat from the orchestral platform hidden by the water-
lilies. Such a vision is not permitted to an infidel. But on
such a night old Mohammed Ali might have been excused if
he thought he was already in El Genneh, in the company of the
girls of Paradise, "whose eyes will be very large and entirely
black, and whose stature will be proportioned to that of the
men, which will be the height of a tall palm tree, or about sixty
feet ; " and that he was entertained in " a tent erected for him
of pearls, jacinths, and emeralds, of a very large extent."

While we were lounging in this place of melancholy gayety,,
which in the sunlight bears something the aspect of a tawdry
watering-place when the season is over, several harem carriages
drove to the entrance ; but the eunuchs seeing that unbelievers
were in the kiosk would not permit the ladies to descend, and
the corthie went on and disappeared in the shrubbery. The
attendants invited us to leave. While we were still near the
kiosk the carriages came round again, and the ladies began to
alight. The attendants in the garden were now quite beside
themselves, and endeavoured to keep our eyes from beholding,
and to hustle us down a side-path.

It was in vain that we r*id to them that we were not afraid,
that we were accustomed to see ladies walk in gardens, and
that it couldn't possibly harm us. They persisted in misunder-
standing us, and piteously begged us to turn away and flee.
" The ladies were already out of the carriages, veils withdrawn,
and beginning to enjoy rural life in the garden. They seemed
to have no more fear than we. The horses of the out-riders
were led down our path ; superb animals, and we stopped to

ifl

< in

■

■ ; - i

i (

- *-

4:28

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

admiro them. The harem ladies, rather over-dressed for a
promenade, were in full attire of soft silks, blue and pink, in
delicate shades, and really made a pretty appearance amid the
green. It seemed impossible that it could be wrong to look at
them. The attendant.^ couldn't deny that the horses were
beautiful, but they regai ded our admiration of them as inop-
portune. They seemed to fear we might look under, or over,
or around the horses, towards that forbidden sight by the
kiosk. It was useless for us to enquire the age and the breed
of the horses. Our efforts to gain information only added to
the agony of the gardeners. They wning their hands, they
tried to face us about, they ran hither and thither, and it was
not till we were out of sight of the odalisques that they recover-
any calmness and began to cull flowers for us, and to produce
some Yusef Effendis, as a sign of amity and willingness to ac-
cept a few piastres.

The last day of March has come. It is time to depart.
Even the harem will soon be going out of town. We have re-
mained in the city long enough to imbibe its atmosphere ; not
long enough to wear out its strangeness, nor to become familiar
with all objects of interest. And we pack our trunks with
reluctance, in the belief that we are leaving the most thorough-
ly Oriental and interesting city in all the East.

NIIIIIP

)d for a
pink, in
a,mid the
3 look at
ses were
as inop-
or over,
t by the
;he breed
added to
Qds, they
nd it was
J recover-
) produce
ess to ac-

depart.
) have re-
lere ; not
B familiar
nks with
ihorough-

CHAPTER XXXVI.

BY THE RED SEA.

Geiitleman started from Cairo a few days before us,
with the avowed puqiose of following in the track of
the Children of Israel and viewing the exact point
where they crossed the Red Sea. I have no doubt that he was
successful. So many routes have been laid out for the Children
across the Isthmus, that one can scarcely fail to fall into one of
them. Our purpose was merely to see Suez and the famous
Sea, and the gi-eat canal of M. Lesseps ; not doubting, however,
that when we looked over the ground we should decide where
the Exodus must have taken place.

The old direct railway to Suez is abandoned ; the present
route is by Zagazet ^ and Ismailia — a tedious journey, requiring
a day. The ride is wearisome, for the country is flat and pre-
sents nothing new to one familiar with Egyptian landscapes.
The first part of the journey is, however, enlivened by the
company of the canal of Fresh Water, and by the bright ver-
dure of the plain which the canal produces. And this luxuriant
vegetation continues until you come to the still unreclaimed
desert of the Land of Goshen. Now that water can be supplied
it only needs people to make this Land as fat as it was in the
days of the Israelites.

Some twenty miles from Cairo we pass near the so-called
Mound of the Jew, believed to be the ruins of the city of Orion
and the temple built by the high priest Onias in the reign of
Ptolemy Philometer and Cleopatra, as described by Joseph us.
The temple was after the style of that at Jerusalem. This
Jewish settlement was made upon old Egyptian ruins ; in 1870
the remains of a splendid temple of the time of liameses II.
were laid open. The special interest to Biblical scholars of this

430

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

li i

Jewish colony here, which multiplied itself and spread over
considerable territory, is that its establishment fulfilled a pro-
phesy of Isaiah (xix, 19, etc.) ; and Onias urged this prophesy,
in his letter to the Ptolemy, asking permission to purge the re-
mains of the heathen temple in the name of Heliopolis and to
erect there a temple to Almighty God. Ptolemy and Cleopatra
replied that they wondered Onias should desire to build a temple
in a place so unclean and so full of sacred animals, but since
Isaiah foretold it, he had leave to do so. We saw nothing of
this ancient and once flourishing seat of Jewish enterprise, save
some sharp mounds in the distance.

Nor did we see more of the more famous city of Bubastia,
where was the temple to Pasht, the cat or lioness headed deity
(whom Herodotus called Diana), the avenger of crimes. Ac-
cording to Herodotus, all the cats of Egypt were embalmed and
buried in Bubastis. This city was the residence of the Phaiaoh
Sheshonk I. (the Shishak of the Bible) who sacked Jerusalem,
and it was at that time the capital of Egypt. It was from
here, on the Bubastic (or Pelusiac) branch of the Nile, that the
ancient canal was dug to connect with the Heroiipolite Gulf
(now the Bitter Lakes), the northermost arm of the P 3d Sea at
that date ; and the city was then, by that fresh-water canal, on
the water-way between the Red Sea and the Mediterranean.
But before the Christian era the Red Sea had retired to about
its present limit (the Bitter Lake being cut off from it), and
the Bubastic branch of the Nile was nearly dried up. Bubastis
and all this region are now fed by the canal which, leaves the
Nile at Cairo and runs to Ismailia, and thence to Suez. It is
a startling thought that all this portion of the Delta, east, and
south, and the Isthmus, depend for life upon the keeper of the
gate of the canal at Cairo. If we were to leave the train here
and stumble about in the mounds of Bubastis, we should find
only fragments of walls, blocks of granite; and a few sculptures.

At the Zagazeeg station, where there is a junction with the
Alexandria and Cairo main line, we wait some time, and find a
very pleasant garden and the picturesque refreshment-bouse in
which our minds are suddenly diverted from ancient Egypt by
a large display of East Indian and Japanese curiosities on sale.

From this we follow, substantially, the route of the canal,
running by villages and fertile districts, and again on the

BY THE RED SEA.

431

>read over
led a pro-
prophesy,
rge the re-
•lis and to
L Cleopatra
d a temple
but since
lothing of
prise, save

Bubastis,
ided deity
mes. Ac-
aimed and
e Phaiaoh
erusalem,
was from
e, that the
olite Gulf
^ )d Sea at
' canal, on
terranean,
i to about
a it), and
Bubastis
leaves the
ez. It is
east, and
)er of the
rain here
lould find
3ulptiires,
with the
nd find a
;-hous& in
igypt by
B on sale,
he canal,
on the

desert's edge. We come upon no traces of the Israelites un-
til we reach Masamah, which is supiK)8ed to be the site of
Rameses, one of the treasure-cities mentioned in the Bible, and
the probable starting-point of the Jews in their flight. This is
abo'it the centre of the Land of Goshen, and Rameses may havo
been the chief cHy of the district.

If I knew exactly the route the Israelites took, 1 should not
dare to disclose it ; for this has become, I do not know why,
a tender subject. But it seems to me that if the Jews were
assembled here from the Delta for a start, a very natural way
of exit would have been down the Wady to the head of the
Heroopolite Gulf, the route of the present and the ancient
canal. And if it should be ascertained beyond a doubt that
Sethi I. built as well as planned such a canal, the argument
of probability would be greatly strengthened that Moses led
his vast host along the canal. Any dragoman to-day, desiring
to cross the Isthmus and be beyond pursuit as soon us possible,
supposing the condition of the country now as it was at the
time of the Exodus, would strike for the shortest line. And it
is reasonable to suppose that Moses would lead Iiis charge to a
point where the crossing of the sea, or one of its arms, was
more feasible than it is anywhere below Suez ; unless we are
to start with the supposition that Moses expected a miracle,
and led the Jews to a spot where, apparently, escape for them
was hopeless if the Egyptians pursued. It is believed that at
the time of the Exodus there was a communication between the
Red Sea and the Bitter Lakes — formerly called Heroopolite
Gulf — which it was the effort of many rulers to keep open by
a canal. Very anciently, it is evident, the Red Sea extended
to, and included, these lakes ; and it is not improbable that, in
the time of Moses, the water was, by certain winds, forced up
to the north into these lakes ; and again, that crossings could
easily be made, the wind being favorable, at several points ])e-
tween what is now Suez and the head of the Bitter Lakes.
Many scholars make Chaloof, about twelve miles above Suez,
the point of passage.

We only touched the outskirts of Ismailia in going on to
Suez. Below, we pass the extensive plantation and garden
of the Khedive, in which he has over fifty thousand young
trees in a nursery. This spot would be absolute desert but for

432

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

the Nile- water let in upon it. All day our astonishment has
increased at the irrigation projects of the Viceroy, and his her-
culean efforts to reclaim a vast land of desert ; the enlarging of
theSweet-Water Canal, and the gigantic experiments in arbori-
culture and agriculture.

We noticed that the Egyptian laborers at work with the
wheel-barrow (instead of the baskets formerly used by them)
on the enlargement of the canal, were under French contrac-
tors, for the most part. The men are paid from a franc to a
franc and a quarter per day ; but they told us that it was very
difficult to get laborers, so many men being drafted for the army.

At dark we came in sight of the Bitter Lakes, through which
the canal is dredged ; we can see vessels of various sorts and
steamers moving across them in one line ; and we see nothing
more until we reach Suez. The train stops " at nowhere," in
the sand, outside the town. It is the only train of the day, but
there are neither carriages nor donkeys in waiting. There is an
a.*r about the station of not caring whether anyone comes or
not. We walk a mile to the hotel, which stands close to the
sea, with nothing but a person's good sense to prevent his
walking off the platform into the water. In the night the
water looked like the sand, and it was only by accident that we
did not step off into it. However, it turned out to be only a
couple of feet deep.

The hotel, which I suppose is rather Indian han Egyptian,
is built round a pleasant court ; corridors ana latticed doors
are suggestive of hot nights ; the servants and waiters are all
Hindoos ; we have come suddenly in contact with another type
of Oriental life.

Coming down from Ismailia, a friend who was with us had
no ticket. It was a case beyond the conductor's experience ;
he utterly refused backsheesh and he insisted on having a
ticket. At last he excepted ten francs and went away. Look-
ing in the official guide we found that the fare was nine francs
and a quarter. The conductor, thinking he had opened a
guileless source of supply, soon returned and demanded two
francs more. My friend countermined him by asking the re-
turn of the seventy-five centimes overpaid. An amusing pan-
tomime ensued. At length the conductor lowered his demand
to one franc, and, not getting that, he begged for backsheesh.

""■il

BY THE RED SEA.

433

I was sorry to have my high ideal of a railway-conductor,
formed in America, lowered in this manner.

We are impatient above all things for a sight of the Red
Sea. But in the brilliant starlight, all that appears is smooth
water and a soft picture of vessels at anchor or aground, loom-
ing up in the night. Suez, seen by early daylight, is a scatter-
ed city of some ten thousand inhabitants, too modern and too
cheap in its buildings to be interesting. There is only a little
section of it, where we find native bazaars, twisting streets,
overhanging balconies, and latticed windows. It lies on a sand
peninsula, and the sand-drifts close all about it, ready to lick
it up, if the canal of fresh water should fail.

The only elevation near is a large mound, which may be the
site of the fort of ancient Clysma, or Gholzim as it was after-
wards called — the city believed to be the predecessor of Suez.
Upon this mound an American has built, and presented to the
Khedive, a sort of chalet of wood — the whole transported from
America ready-made, one of those white, painfully unpicturesque
things with two little gables at the end, for which our country
is justly distinguished. Cheap. But then it is of wood, and
wood is one of the dearest things in Egypt. I only hope the
fashion of it may not spread in this land of grace.

It was a delightful morning, the wind west and fresh. From
this hillock we commanded one of the most interesting pros-
pects in the world. We looked over the whole desert-flat on
which lies the little town, and which is pierced by an arm of
the Gulf that narrows into the Suez canal ; we looked upon
two miles of curved causeway which runs down to the docks
and the anchoring place of the steam-vessels — there cluster the
dry-docks, the dredges, the canal-offices, and just beyond the
shipping lay ; in the distance we saw the Red Sea, like a long
lake, deep green, or deep blue, according to the light, and
very sparkling ; to the right was the reddish limestone range
called Gebel Attkka — a continuation of the Mokattam ; on the
left there was a great sweep of desert, and far oflf — one hundred
and twenty miles as the crow flies — the broken Sinai range of
mountains, in which we tried to believe we could distinguish
the sacred peak itself

I asked an intelligent railway official, a Moslem, who acted
as guide that morning,
28

434

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

" What is the local opinion as to the place where the Children
of Israel crossed over V*

" The French," he replied, " are trying to make it out that it
was at Chaloof, about twenty miles above here, where there is
little water. But we think it was at a point twenty miles
below here ; we must put it there, or there wouldn't be any
miracle. You see that point away to the right] That's the
spot. There is a wady comes down the side. "

" But where do the Christians think the crossing Tad 1

" Oh, here at Suez ; there about, at this end of Gebel
Attaka. "

The Moslems' faith in the miraculous deliverance is disturbed
by no speculations. Instead of trying to explain the miracle
by the use of natural causes, and seeking for a crossing where
the water might at one time have been heaped and at another
forced away by the winds, their only care is to fix the passage
where the miracle would be most striking.

After breakfast and preparations to visit Moses* Well, we
rode down the causeway to the made land where the docks are.
The earth dumped here by the dredging-machines (and which
now forms solid building ground) is full of a great variety of
small sea-shells ; the walls that enclose it are of rocks conglom-
erate of shells. The ground all about gives evidence of salt ;
we found shallow pools evaporated so that a thick crust of ex-
cellent salt had formed on the bottom and at the sides. The
water in them was of a decidedly rosy colour, caused by some
infusorial growth. The name, Red Sea, however, has nothing
to do with this appearance, I believe.

We looked at the pretty houses and gardens, the dry-dock
and the shops, and the world-famous dredges, without which
the Suez Canal would very likely never have been finished.
These enormous machines have arms or ducts, an iron spout of
semi-elliptical form, two hundred and thirty feet long, by means
of which the dredger working in the centre of the channel
could discharge its contents over the bank. One of them re-
moved, on an average, eighty thousand cub'c yards of soil a
month. A faint idea may be had of this gigantic work by the
amount of excavation here done by the dredgers in one month
— two million seven hundred and sixty-three thousand cubic
^ards. M. de Lesseps says that if this soil were " laid out be*

BY THE RED SEA.

435

le Children

tween the Arc do Triomphe and the Place de la Concorde, it
would cover the entire length and breadth of the Champs
Elys^es, a distance equal to a mile and a quarter, and reach to
the top of the trees on either side."

At the pier our felucca met us, and we embarked and sailed
into the mouth of the canal. The channel leading to it is not
wide, and is buoyed at short intei'vals. The mouth of the
canal is about nine hundred feet wide and twenty-seven deep,*
and it is guarded on the east by a long stone mole projected
from the Asiatic shore. There is considerable ebb and How of
the tide in this part of the canal and as far the Bitter Lakes,
where it is nearly all lost in the expanse, being only slightly
felt at Lake Timsah, from which point there is a slight uniform
current to the Mediterranean.

From the canal entrance we saw great ships and steamboats
in the distance, across the desert, and apparently sailing in
the desert; but we did not follow them ; we turned, and
crossed to the Asiatic shore. We had brought donkeys with
us, and we>'e soon mounted for a scrambling gallop of an hour
and a half, down the coast, over leve^ and hard sand, to Moses'
Well. The air was delicious and the ride exhilarating. I
tried to get from our pleasant Arab guide, who had a habit of
closing one eye, what he thought of the place of the passage.

" Where did the Children of Israel cross V

" Over dat mountain."

" Yes, but where did they cross the Sea T*

" You know Moses V

" Yes, I know Moses. Where did he cross 1

" Well," closing his eye very tight, " him long time ago, not
now. He cross way down there, can't see him from here."

On the way we passed the white tents of the Quarantine
Station on our right by the shore, where the caravan of Mecca
pilgrims had been detained. We hoped to see it ; but it had
just set out on its desert march further inland. It was seen
from Suez all day, straggling along in detachments, and at
night camped about two miles north of the town. However,
we found a dozen or two of the pilgrims, dirty, ragged, burned

♦ Total length of canal, 100 miles. Width of water-line, where banks
are low, 328 feot ; in deep cuttings, 190 ; width at base, 72 ; depth, 26.

nil*

I
I

I ii

436

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

by the sun, and hungry, lying outside the enclosure at the
wells.

The Wells of Moses (or Ain Moosa, "Moses' "Well," in the
Arabic) are distant a mile or more from the low shore, and
our first warning of nearness to them was the appearance of
some palms in a sandy depression. The attempt at vegetation
is rather sickly, and the spot is but a desolate one. It is the
beginning of the route to Mount Sinai, however, and is no
doubt a very welcome sight to returning pilgrims. Contrast
is everything ; it is contrast with its suri'oundings that has
given Damascus its renown.

There are half a dozen of these wells, three of which are
some fifteen to twenty feet across, and are in size and appear-
ance very respectable frog-ponds. One of them is walled with
masonry, evidently ancient, and two shadoofs draw water from
it for the garden, an enclosure of an acre, fenced with palm-
matting. Iv contains some palms and shrubs and a few vege-
tables. Here also is a half-deserted house, that may once have
been a hotel, and is now a miserable trattoria without beds.
It is in charge of an Arab who lives in a hut at the other side
of the garden, with his wife and a person who bore the unmis-
takable signs of being a mother-in-law. The Arab made coffee
for us, and furnished us a table, on which we spread our lun-
cheon under the verandah. He also gave us Nile water which
had been brought from Suez in a cask on camel-back ; and his
whole charge was only one bob (a shilling) each. I mention
the charge, because it is disenchanting in a spot of so much
romance to pay for your entertainment in " bobs."

We had come,, upon what I njay truly call a sentimental
pilgrimage, on account of Moses and the Children of Israel. If
they crossed over from Mount Attaka yonder, then this might
be the very spot where Miriam sang the song of triumph. If
they crossed at Chaloof, twenty miles above, as it is more proba-
ble they did, then this might be the Marah whpse bitter waters
Moses sweetened for the time being ; the Arabs have a tradition
that Moses brought up water here by striking the ground with
his stick. At all events, the name of Moses is forever attached
to this oasis, and it did not seem exactly right that the best
WfeU should be owned by an Arab who makes it the means of
accumulating bobs. One room of the house was occupied by

FY THE RED SEA.

43;

osure at tho

T, and is no
IS, Contrast

three Jews, traders, wlio escablisli themselves here a part of tho
year in order to buy, from tho Bedaween, turquoise and anti-
quities which are found at Mount Sinai. I saw them sorting
over a peck of rough and inferior turquoise, which wouUl speed-
ily be forwarded to Constantinople, Paris, and London. One
of them sold me a small intaglio, which was no doubt of old
Greek workmanship, and which he swore was picked np at
Mount Sinai. There is nothing I long more to know, some-
times, than the history of wandering coijis and intaglios which
we see in the Orient.

It is not easy to rfjckon the value of a tradition, nor of a tra-
ditional spot like tliis in which all the world feels a certain
proprietorship. It seemed to ns, however, that it would be
worth while to own this famous Asiatic well ; and wo asked the
owner what he would take for it. He offered to sell th^ ranche
for one hundred and fifty guineas ; this, however, would not
include the camel, — for that he wanted ten pounds in addition;
but it did include a young gazelle, two goats, a brownish-yellow
dog, and a cat the color of the sand. And it also comprised, in
the plantation, a few palms, some junipers of the Biblical sort;
the acacia or " shittah " tree of the Bible, and, best of all, the
large shrub called the tamarisk, which exudes during two
months in the year a sweet gummy substance that was the

"manna" of the Israelites.

Mother-in-law wore a veil, a string of silver-gilt imitation
coins, several large silver bracelets, and a necklace upon which
was sewed a string of small Arabic gold coins. As this person
more than anyone else there, represented Miriam, — not being
too youngs — we persuaded her to sell us some of the coins as
mementoes of our visit. We could not determine, as I said,
whether this spot is associated with Miriam, or whether it is
the Marah of bitter waters; consequently it was difficult to say
what our emotions should be. However, we decided to let
them be expressed by the inscription that a Frenchman had
written on a Tniall of the house, which reads : — Le ooaur me pal-
pitait comme un amant qui revolt sa bien-aimee.

There are three other wells enclosed, but unwalled, the largest
of which — and it has near it a sort of loggia, or open shed, where
some dirty pilgrims were reposing — is an unsightly pond full
of a green growth of algae. In this enclosure, which contains

438

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

two or three acres, are throe smaller wells, or natural springs,
as they all are, and a considerable thicket of [)ahns and tama-
risks. The larger well is the stronger in taste and most V)itter,
containing more magnesia. The water in al' is flat and un-
pleasant, and not enlivened by carbonic acid gas, although we
saw bubbles coming to the surface constantly. If the spring
wo first visited could bo aerated, it would not bo worse to drink
than many waters that are sought after. The donkeys liked
it ; but a donkey likes anything. About these feeble planta-
tions the sand drifts from all directions, and it would soon cover
them but for the protecting fence. The way towards Sinai
winds through shifting sand-mounds, and is not inviting.

The desert over which we return is dotted frequently with
tufts of a flat-leafed, pale-green plant, which seem to thrive
without moisture ; and in the distance this vegetation presents
an appearance of large shrub growth, greatly relieving the bar-
renness of the sand-plain. We had some tine effects of mirage,
blue lakes and hazy banks, as of streams afar off. When we
reached an elevation that commanded a view of the indistinct
Sinai range, we asked the guide to point out to us the " rosy
peaks of Mount Sinai" which Murray sees from Suez when he
is there. The guide refused to believe that you can see a rosy
peak one hundred and twenty miles through the air, and con-
firmed the assertion of the inhabitants of Suez that Mount Sinai
cannot be seen froi there.

On our return. we overtook a caravan of Bedaween returning
from the holy mount, armed with long rifles, spears, and huge
swords, swinging along on their dromedaries, — a Colt's revolver
would put the whole lot of braggarts to flight. One of them
was a splendid specimen of manhood, and we had a chance to
study his graceful carriage, as he ran beside us all the way ; he
had the traditional free air, a fine face and well-developed limbs,
and his picturesque dress of light-blue and buff, somewhat in
rags, added to his attractions. It is some solace to the traveller
to call these fellows beggars, since he is all the^ime conscious
that their natural grand manner contrasts so strongly with the
uncouthness of his more recent and western civilization.

Coming back into Suez, from this journey to another con-
tinent, we were stopped by two customs-oflicers, who insisted
upon searching our lunch-basket, to see if we were attempting

BY THE RED SEA.

439

to smuggle anything from Asia. We told the guide to give the
representatives of his Highness, with our compliments, a hard
boiled egg.

Suez itself has not many attractions. "But wo are much im-
pressed at the hotel by the grave Hindoo waiters, who serve at
table in a close-fitting habit, like the present extremely narrow
gown worn by ladies, and ludicrous to our eyes accustomed to
the flowing robes of the Arabs. They we» r also, while waiting,
broad-brimmed, white, cork hats, slightly turned up at the rim.
It is like being waited on by serious genii. These men also
act as chambermaids. Their costume is Bengalee, and would
not bo at all " style" in Bombay.

Suez is reputed a healthful place, enjoying both sea and
desert air, free from malaria, and even in summer the heat is
tempered. This is what the natives say. The English landlady
admits that it is very pleasant in winter, but the summer is in-
tensely hot; especially when the Kliamseen, or south wind,
blows — always three days at a time — it is hardly endurable ;
the thermometer stands at 110'' to 114" in the shaded halls of
the hotel round the court. It is unsafe for foreigners to stay
here more than two years at a time ; they are certain to have a
fever or some disease of the liver.

The town is very much depressed now, and has been ever
since the opening of the canal. The great railway business fell
off at once, all freight going by water. Hundreds of merchants,
shippers and forwarders are out of employment. We hear the
Khedive much blamed for his part in the canal, and people hens
believe that he regrets it. Egypt, they say, is ruined by thia
loss of trade ; Suez is killed ; Alexandria is ruined beyond re-
paration, business there is entirely stagnant. What a builder
and a destroyer of cities has been the fluctuation of the course
of the East India commerce !

CHAPTER XXXVII.

" WESTWARD HO !"

' I

■ I

il^ E left Suez at eight in the morning by rail, and reach-
ed Tsmailia in four hours, the fare — to do justice to the
conductor already named — being fourteen francs, A
part of the way the Bitter Lakes are visible, and we can see
where the canal channel is staked out through them. Next we
encountered the Fresh -Water-Canal, and cam^i in view of Lake
Timsah, through which the Suez canal also flows. This was
no doubt once a fresh-water-lake, fed by water taken from the
Nile at Bubastis.

Ismailia is a surprise, no matter how much you have heard
of it. True, it has something the appearance of a rectangular
streeted town, dropped ready-made at a railway station on a
western prairie; but Ismailia was dropped by people of good taste.
In 1860 there was nothing here but desert sand, not a drop of
water J not a spear of vegetation. To-day you walk into a
pretty village, of three or four thousand inhabitants, smiling
with verdure. Trees grow along the walks ; little gardens bloom
by every cottage. Fronting the quay Mohammed Ali, which
extends along the broad Fresh-Water-Canal, are the best resi-
dences, and many of them have better gardens than you can
find elsewhere, with few exceptions, in Egypt.

The first house we were shown was th^-t which had most
interest for us — the Swiss-like chcilet of M. de Lesseps ; a sum
merish, cheerful box, furnished simply, but adorned with many
Oriental curiosities. The garden which surrounds it is rich in
native and exotic plants, flowers and fruits. On this quay are
two or three barn-like, unmrnishsd palaces built hastily and
pheaply by the Khedive for the entertainment of guests. The

K^i

WESTWARD ho!"

441

L you can

finest garden, however, and as interesting as any we saw in the
East, is that belonginf^ to M. Pierre, who has charge of the
waterworks. In this garden can be found almost all varieties
of European and Egyptian flowers; strawberries were just
ripening. We made inquiry here, as we had done throughout
Egypt, for the lotus, the favorite flower of the old Egyptians,
the sacred symbol, tne mythic plant, the feeding upon which
lulls the conscience, destroys ambition, dulls the memory . 1
unpleasant things, enervates the will, and soothes one ir t s =
suous enjoyment of the day to which there is no to-morroY», '.t
seems to have disappeared from Egypt with the papyrus.

The lotus of the poets I fear never existed, not even in
Egypt. The lotus represented so frequently in the sculptures,
is a water-plant, the Nymphce'j, lutea, and is I suppose the
plant that was once common. The poor used its bulb for food
in times of scarcity. The Indian lotus, or Nelumhium, is not
seen in the sculptures, though Latin writers say it existed in
Egypt. It may have been this that had the lethean properties ;
although the modern eaters and smokers of Indian hemp ap-
pear to be the legitimate descendants of the lotus-eaters of the
poets. However, the lotus whose stalks and buds gave char-
acter to a distinct architectural style, we enquired for in vain
on the Nile. If it still grows there it would sca/cely be visi-
ble above water in the winter. But M. Pierre has what hu
supposes to be the ancient lotus-plant ; and his wife gave us
seeds of it in the seed-vessel — a large flat-topped funnel-shaped
receptacle, exactly the shape of the sprinkler of a watering
pot. Perhaps this is the plant that Herodotus calls a lily like
a rose, the fruit of wliich is contained in a separate pod, that
springs up from the fruit in form very like a wasp's nest ; in
this are many berries fit to be eaten.

The garden adjoins the water works, in which two powerful
pumping -engines raise the sweet water into a stand-pipe, and
send it forward in iron pipes fifty miles along the Suez Canal
to Port Said, at which port there is a reservoir that will hold
three days' supply. This stream of fresh v^ater is the sole de-
pendence of Port Said and all the intervening country.

We rode out over the desert on an excellent road, lined with
sickly acacias growing in the watered ditches, to station No. 6
on the canal. The way lies along Lake Timsah. Upon a con-

442

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

Hi.

siderable elevation, called the Heights of El Guisr, is built a
chateau for the Khedive ; and from this you get an extensive
view of the desert, of Lake Tirasah and the Bitter Lakes. Be-
low us was the deep cutting of the Canal. El Guisr is the
highest point in the Isthmus, an elevated plateau six miles
across and some sixty-five feet above the level of the sea. The
famous gardens that flourished here during the progress of the
excavation have entirely disappeared with the cessation of tue
water from Ismailia. While we were there an East India
bound steamboat moved slowly up the canal, creating, of course,
waves along the banks, but washing them very little, for the
speed is limited to five miles an hour.

Although the back streets of Ismailia are crude and unpic-
turesque, the whole eflfect of the town is pleasing; and it enjoys
a climate that must commend it to invalids. It is dry, free
from dust, and even in summer not too warm, for there is a
breeze from the lakes by day, and the nights are always cooled
by the desert air. Sea-bathing can be enjoyed there the year
round. It ought to be a wholesome spot, for there is nothing
in sight around it but sand and salt-water. The invalid who
should go there would probably die shortly of ennui, but he
would escape the death expected from his disease. But Is-
mailia is well worth seeing. The miracle wrought here by a
slender stream of water from the distant Nile is worthy the
consideration of these who have the solution of the problem of
making fertile' our western sand-deserts.

We ate at Suez and Ismailia what we had not tasted for
several months — excellent fish. The fish of the Nile are nearly
as good as a New-England sucker, grown in a rau.ddy mill-pond.
I saw fishermen angling in the salt canal at Ismailia, and the
fish are good the v/^hole le: gth of it ; they are of excellent quality
even in the Bitter lakes, which are much Salter than the Medi-
terranean — in fact the bottom of these lakes is encrusted with
salt.

We took passage towards evening on the daily Egyptian
paquet-boat for Port Said — a puffing little cigar-box of a vessel,
hardly fifty feet long. The only accommodation for passengers
was in the forward cabin, which is about the size of an omnibus,
and into it were crammed twenty passengers, Greeks, Jews,
Koorlanders, English clergymen, and American travellers, and

I'll I i

iris' 1 I

WESTWARD HO

443

the surly Egyptian mail-agent, who occupied a great deal of
room, and insisted on having the windows cloged ; some of us
tried perching on the scrap of a deck, hanging our legs over
the side, but it was bitterly cold, and a strong wind drove us
below. In the cabin the air was utterly vile ; and when we
succeeded in opening the hatchway for a moment, the draught
chilled us to the bones.

I do not mean to complain of all this ; but I want it to ap-
pear that sailing on the Suez Canal, especially at night, is not
a pleasure-excursion. It might be more endurable by day ;
but I do not know. -In the hours we had of daylight I became
excessively weary of looking at the steep sand-slopes between
which we sailed, and of hoping that every turn would bring us
to a spot where we could see over the bank.

At eight o'clock we stopped at Katannah for supper, and I
climbed the bank to see if I could obtain any information about
the Children of Israel. They are said to have crossed here.
Ihis is the highest point of the low hills which separate Lake
Menzaleh from the interior lakes. Along this ridge is still the
caravan-route between Egypt and Syria ; it has been for ages
unnumbered the great highway of commerce and of conquest.
This way Thothmes III., th'.; greatest of the Pharaohs and the
real Sesostris, led his legions into Asia; and this way Cambyses
came to repaj- the visit with interest.

It was so dark that I could see little, but I had a historic
sense of all this stir and movement, of the passage of armies
laden \\ .th spoils, and of caravans from Nineveh and Damas-
cus. And, although it was my first visit to the place, it
seemed strange to see here a restaurant, and waiters hurrying
about, and travellers snatching a hasty meal in the night on
this wind-blown sand-hill. And to feel that the stream of
travel is no more along this divide but across it? By the half-
light I could distinguish some Bedaween loitering about ; their
little caravan had camped here, for they find it very convenient
to draw water from the iron pipes.

It was quite dark when we presently sailed into Lake Men-
saleh, and we could see little. I only know that we held a
straight course through it for some thirty miles to Port Said.
In the daytime you can see a dreary expanse of morass and
lake, a few little islands clad with tamarisks, and flocks of

AAA
III

MUMMIES AND MOSLEMS.

!?!

1! Mi

aquatic birds floating in the water or drawn up on the sand-
spits in martial array — the white spoonbill, the scarlet flamingo,
the pink pelican. It was one o'clock in the morning when we
saw the Pharos of Port Said and sailed into the basin, amid
many lights.

Port Said was made out of nothing, and it is pretty good.
A town of eight to ten thousand inhabitants, with docks,
quays, squares, streets, shops, mosques, hospitals, public build-
ings ; in front of our hotel is a garden and public square ; all
this fed by the iron pipe and the pump at Ismailia — without
this there is no fresh water nearer than Damietta. It is a
shabby city, and just now has the over-done appearance of one
of our own western town inflations. But its history is a record
of one of the most astonishing achievements of any age. Be-
fore there could be any town here it was necessary to build a
standpoint for it with a dredging machine.

Along this coast from Damietta to the gulf of Pelusium
where once emptied the Pelusiac branch of the Nile, in a
narrow strip of sand, separating the Mediterranean from Lake
Menzaleh ; a high sea often breaks over it. It would have saved
much in distance to have carried the canal to the Pelusium
gulf, but the Mediterranean is shallow there many miles from
shore. The spot on which Port Said now stands was selected
for the entrance of the canal, because it was here that the land
can be best approached — the Mediterranean having sufficient
depth at only two miles from the shore. Here, therefore, the
dredgers began to work. The lake was dredged for interior
basins ; the strip of sand was cut through ; the outer harbor
was dredged ; and the dredgings made the land for the town.
Artificial stone was then manufactured on the spot, and of this
the long walls, running out into the sea and protecting the
harbor, the quays, and the lighthouses were built. We saw
some enoiJious blocks of this composite of sand and hydraulic
lime, which weigh twenty-five tons each.

It is impossible not to respect a city built by such heroic
labour as this ; but we saw enough of it in half a day. The
shops are many, and the signs are in many languages, Greek
being most frequent. I was pleased to )?e&d an honest one in
English — " Blood-Letting and Tooth-picking." I have no
doubt they all would take your blood. In the streets are

((

WESTWARD HOl"

445

vagabonds, adventurers, merchants, travellers, of all nations ;
and yet you would not call the streets picturesque. Every-
thing is strangely modernized and made uninteresting. There
is, besides, no sense of permanence here. The tradera appear
to occupy their shops as if they were booths for the day. It
is a place of transit ; a spot of sand amid the waters. I have
never been in any locality that seemed to me so nearly
nowhere. A spot for an African bird to light on a moment
on his way to Asia. But the world flows through hero. Here
lie the great vessels in the Eastern trade ; all the Mediterra-
nean steamers call here.

The Erymanthe is taking in her last freight, and it is time
for us to go on board. Abd-el-Atti has arrived with the
baggage from Cairo. Ho has the air of one with an import-
ant errand. In the hotels, on the street, in the steamer, his
manner is that of one who precedes an imposing embassy.
He likes state. If he had been born under the Pharaohs he
would have been the bearer of the flabellum before the king ;
and he vould have carried it majestically, with perhaps a
humorous twinkle in his eye for some comrade by the way.
Ahman Abdallah, the faithful, is with him. He it was who
made and brought us the early morning coffee to-day, —
recalling the peace of those days on the Nile which now are
in the dim past. It is ages ago since we were hunting in the
ruins of Abydus for the tomb of Osiris. It was in another life,
that delicious v.dnter in Nubia, those weeks following weeks,
free from care and from all the restlessness of this driving age.

" I shouldn't wonder if you were right, Abd-el-Atti, in not
wanting to start for Syria sooner. It was very cold on the
boat last night."

" Not go in Syria before April ; always find him bad.
'Member what I say when it rain at Cairo 1 — * This go to be
snow in Jerusalem.' It been snow there last week, awful
storm, nobody go on the road, travellers all stop, not get any-
where. So I hunderstand."

"What is the prospect for landing at Jaffa to-morrow
morning V*

" Do' know, be sure. Wo hope for the better."

We get away beyond the breakwater, as the sun goes down.
The wind freshens, and short waves hector the long sea swell.
Egypt lies low ; it is only a line ; it fadea from view.

Huuf I i|i|. ws'. ;L"'rfT!' <■**,. J^- ' J"f ii'^L,- Wi'!-'''

^-i

Il I

List of this Month's Publication's.

i. !

I I

. THE ADVKi\rURt:S O^V TOM SAWYER, by Mark
Twain, author of " Old Times on Ijthe Mississippi/' " Rough-
ing It," " Innocents AI)road,'' »S:c., i^-c.

OAURll-:!. CONROV, by VIret Hartc, author of
'* Heathen Chinee," " Luck of Roaring Cam])," ike, C^c.

MUMxMIES AND MOSLEMS, by Charles Dudley War-
ner, author of *' My- Summer in a Oarden," co-authqr of
•'Cilded Age," i'^x.

THE OLD LIEUTENTANT Atirfi''i!rS SON, illus-
trated, by Norman Macleod, author of '*The Earnest
Student," " The Gold Thread,'^ " Wee Davie," ike, ike.

THE GOLD THREAD, beautifully illustrated, l)y.
irman Macleod, author of " The Old Lieutenant and
ins Son," " Wee Davie," " The Earrnest Student," \'C., &c.

WEE DAVTE, by Norman Macleod, author of " 'I'he
Old TAeutfeaaiitandhis Son,VThe (Jold Thread," "The
Earnest Studojii;^ ' wlc.

THE EARNEST STirDENT, by Norman Maicleod.
D.l).^irhor of' The Old Lieutenant and his Son:"'" Wee
Davie," The (iold 'i bread."' Also

THE MEMOIR OF NORMAN MACLEOD, D.D.,
by his brother, Donald Macleod, with portrait ; demy 8vo ;
500 pages; Cloth $2.50. Half Call $4.00. Full MorotTo,
$6.00.

p}>t Sa/c ()}i the Cars. Nen'sstavds. aud all fhe Biioksr/icrs
throui^hoHt the CoKfitry.

BELFORD BROS.,

Publishers, Toronto.

wi ll ii il i WB MMMnii^

^Mi-