The Plain of Thebes.

Many miles from the renowned city, we could distinguish in every direction its vast remains, lying about in confused heaps. Rounding a bend in the river, a wide plain extends from either bank, sweeping back to a range of mountains, which lock it in on every side. It is cultivated to the water’s edge, and groups of date-trees rise amidst waving sugar-canes, or encircle the fields of golden corn, that stretch far back, covering with verdure the fragments of one of the noblest capitals of the ancient world.

Geologists have displayed to us the changes which the crust of the earth has undergone from a period long anterior to any history, sacred or profane; and have made known its strange inhabitants, during these remote times. On the surface, there are wonders quite as marvellous as those beneath it, in the various strata which have been created by the convulsions of Time, wherein are fossils, apparently as extravagant in their proportions, as any that figure in Palæontology. Thebes stands prominent among the wonders of the buried Past—the most stupendous of the Saurians of history—colossal in its proportions, extraordinary in its character, and totally distinct in all its features from the cities of the Present. The fossils of Natural History, however different as organized beings from the fossils to which I am alluding, possess much similarity with them. To carry the simile further, Egypt may be looked upon as the old red sand-stone of history, abounding in traces of a remote age, and a different state of being. It is impossible to express the sensations which the modern traveller, with his modern sympathies and associations, experiences on being, for the first time, brought under the influence of a long-buried century. In gazing upon Thebes, he looks back upon the world some thousands of years. There is nothing, either in art or in nature, in the observation of which he is so completely detached from himself and his era.

It was Sunday, and an atmosphere of silence and repose spread from one ridge of mountains to the other, as if the Sabbath here extended even to nature. The sun, as we advanced up the river, had risen slowly over the heights, breaking the mist into silvery fleeces, and steeping the lofty peaks in the most radiant tints. We saw the temples in the distance, looming through the haze, like cities of refuge; and it seemed as if they would never come nearer. A breath of wind filled our sail, propelling the bark for a few moments, and inspiring us with new hope; but soon we were again becalmed, and slowly and with difficulty made any progress. The telescope passed from hand to hand; and as we looked more narrowly, the confused mass took shape and order, and we gazed with wonder over the acres of ruin, which bear the proud name of Karnac, to the summit of Medeenah Haboo, under whose picturesque crags lie the tombs of the kings.

On reaching the anchorage by the famous sycamores, we were obliged to wait two hours for ‘The Eagle,’ which had been left far in our wake; and we spent the interval in making arrangements for an excursion on shore. At length she came up, but took the wrong side of the river; and it was not till after considerable further delay that our party united, and were all safely landed. We were then quickly in the saddle, and after passing through several fields of corn and sugar-cane, emerged on an expanse of bare stony land, full of holes; doubtless once smooth as a lawn, and tracked with the fairest avenues of the city. It now verges on the desert, near which is the small temple of Gournou—an interesting ruin, but from its humble dimensions, scarcely noticed by the traveller. After strolling through it, we spurred forward with increased impatience, and a short ride brought us to the Memnonium.

The astonishment and awe which the first view of this stupendous fabric inspires can scarcely be conceived. We glanced from one pillar to another, on every side of the vast area, till we became perfectly bewildered, and felt inclined to doubt that we were contemplating a work of man. The grandeur and magnitude of the structure, wrought out in the minutest details, revealed the hand of those reckless builders who thought to raise “a city and a tower whose top should reach unto the heavens;” beholding what they achieved, one hardly wonders at what they designed. They have, indeed, made themselves “a name upon the earth,” which the storms of thirty centuries have failed to obliterate. The enormous pile, surviving the fall of thrones, and the extinction of races, still rears its countless columns, erect as cedars, and immoveable as rocks. Unincumbered by the heaps of fragments which entomb the fair proportions of other ancient works of art, it stands up in massive nakedness, invulnerable to the attacks of weather or the encroachments of time.

The propylon, which is almost perfect, is covered with masterly sculpture, depicting a triumph of Rameses, who, is represented by a gigantic figure, at least thirty feet high. His hand grasps a club, with which he is in the act of smiting a number of comparatively pigmy captives, whose stature does not exceed six feet, and whom he holds up by their hair. His queen Amnure looks on with admiration, strangely blended with queenly dignity and repose. The effect of the whole is singularly grand.

Karnac and Luxor.

A brilliant Egyptian morning succeeded our visit to the left bank of the river, and found our boats moored, pursuant to a plan previously arranged, under the opposite shore, close to the frowning ruins of Luxor. A fresh breeze came cheerily up the stream, as if to tempt us onward; but not the sweet south, stealing o’er a bank of violets, could that day have lured us from Thebes. The sky was cloudless, as it ever is here, for in Egypt at this season there are neither clouds nor rain. Indeed the fertilizing shower so precious in other regions, is not required in such a region as this, where art irrigates the thirsty soil with its thousands of sluices, drawn from the inexhaustible Nile. In Egypt all is the Nile.

Our two captains would gladly have prevailed upon us to take advantage of the fair wind, and push forward; deferring the inspection of the remaining section of Thebes for our way down—an arrangement frequently made by travellers, though it leaves too much to be done—almost a surfeit of temples and tombs in a very limited period, while the curiosity is tantalized during the first part of the voyage. At the same time, progress, when there is a favourable breeze, is only too agreeable to the crews, who abhor the labour of tracking, and like to take advantage of the wind when it blows. The dragoman, equally eager to proceed, lends his powerful aid to the conspiracy, and the traveller usually yields. In our case, however, all pleaded in vain, happily as on our return we did not even land, and it was determined to devote the day to Thebes.

We soon completed our equipment, which included the very important item of water, secreted from light and heat in a capacious “goolah,”—a kind of bottle, made of undressed clay, in which, when wrapt round with a wet towel, let the sun blaze as it may, the water lies as cool and as fresh as in a well. All travellers, particularly if they meditate a journey beyond Wady Halfa, should provide themselves with a good supply of these bottles at Keneh, where they are made, as it is impossible to procure them afterwards, and the want of them would be severely felt. We found ours invaluable and in the desert they were a never-failing spring, yielding us delicious draughts of cool and sweet water, during a scorching torrid heat, under which we must have sunk but for such aid. So useful had they been, that when we learnt, towards the end of our southward journey, that our last goolah was broken, we felt as though we had lost a friend, and it was long before we could bring ourselves to endure the warm and nauseous water which swung in leather bottles at our saddle-bows.

Daireh wiled away the time, as we proceeded, with reminiscences of his former visits to Thebes; and we were much amused by his anecdotes of gentlemen sallying forth, like knights-errant, armed with dagger and pistol, in search of adventures for their journals, and finding none. In fact, Egypt under Abbas Pasha, has become so provokingly quiet, that a second Don Quixote might traverse the whole country without finding occasions for the display of his valour.

We deferred visiting Luxor till our return, and galloping through some fields of wild grass, came out on a wide tract savouring more of the neighbourhood of Birmingham than of Thebes. This is the site of a large powder manufactory; we found whole acres covered with heaps of charcoal, while a number of Arabs, whose dark skins were perfectly coated with grime, moved to and fro like so many demons. A powder manufactory on the sight of ancient Thebes, overlooked by the propylon of Karnac! The sublime and matter-of-fact in singularly close conjunction. But such are the metamorphoses of Time. In some future age perhaps, the gunpowder manufactory may give place to a Club for the use of the Peace Congress.

Clearing this Cimmerian waste, we arrived at Karnac, the grandest and most renowned ruin of Egypt. It is approached through an avenue of sphinxes, of which nothing remains but the mutilated bodies, half embedded in sand. This leads to a triumphal arch of extreme beauty, covered with hieroglyphics and sculpture, in many parts still fresh and perfect. Beyond is a wide tract of ruin, heaped with blocks of time-worn stone, of extraordinary magnitude, each weighing several tons; while, here and there, a few columns stand up, transformed from decorations of a populous city, to be monuments of a deserted sepulchre. Hence the spectator, passes to “the grand hall of the temple,”—a noble area, surrounded by a forest of columns, rising to the height of eighty feet. Right and left, at each point of the compass, the eye is carried down vistas of pillars, uniform in height and girth, and differing only in the quaint and grotesque capital. Occasionally the order is broken by a column half impending, but held up by a monster block, which attaches it by its weight to the roof. Many of the blocks composing this roof have fallen, and through the apertures the eye comes on the clear blue sky, that lights up the vivid colours immediately beneath, leaving only gloomy shadows beyond. At the end rise up walls twenty-five feet in thickness, from which colossal stones have fallen, forming a sort of ascent almost to the roof. Here a boundless prospect is opened, and vast ruins, now grouped in perfect order, now thrown in mighty heaps, rear themselves on every side. There was something even touching in the spectacle presented at intervals, of a solitary pillar, the last vestige of a court or vestibule, standing up amidst mounds of prostrate and crumbling fragments, while far in the distance rose two triumphal arches, once entrances to the temple.

We stood in silence on the roof, and looked round in wonder and awe. We felt that it was a time and place for reflection. It afforded us an opportunity from the world of the Present to look back upon the world of the Past—to contrast a period of the highest social elevation, and intellectual development, with another marked by the most degraded slavery and the most intense ignorance—a state of existence enjoying the advantages of railway travelling, steam voyaging, and electric communication, contrasted with one which wrapped every phase of life in mystery, and shrouded all the better impulses of humanity in a darkness more gloomy than that of the grave.

At length we tore ourselves from Karnac, and rode home by Luxor, which is approached through a village of wretched hovels, branching off from the magnificent obelisk presented by the Pasha to the English government, is the companion to that erected in the Place de la Concorde, at Paris. This obelisk is of red granite, hewn out of the rocks of Assouan, and is covered with symbolic sculptures and hieroglyphics. The propylon follows, opening on the temple, now so completely perverted to modern purposes, that it furnishes a site and materials for a mosque, which is reared against a part of its wall, and rests its little weight on several of its columns. We found the place a perfect hive of Arab children, mingling in happy harmony with sheep, kids, and fowls; while howling dogs, mounted on every heap and wall, kept up an incessant barking.

Beyond the mosque are many ancient chambers, and spacious areas, crowded with lofty and colossal pillars, which open on a colonnade of great beauty, formed of noble and very massive columns. This is the most striking part of Luxor, and is peculiar, as no vestige of wall remains. When the ground was unencumbered with rubbish, so grand a range of pillars, extending over such a space, must have had a singularly imposing effect from the Nile; but it is now intercepted by a mountain of sand and fragments, choking up numerous chambers, and almost shutting out the river. We had hardly time to scramble through all these marvels; for the sun, our real cicerone, was fast sinking to a level with the hill, and we were soon warned to withdraw.

At six we returned on board; the dozing crew, lying on the deck, wrapped up in their coarse blankets, were aroused, and the boats were cast from their moorings. ‘The Fanny’ swung slowly round the creek of Luxor; the large sail was unloosed to the too eager breeze, and she darted off. As ‘The Eagle’ wore after her consort, we all assembled under her awning, and turned our lingering eyes on the classic shore. The stupendous obelisk of Luxor, and the propylon of Karnac, loomed up against the blue sky, as the last gleam of sunlight crowned them with gold, and a solemn hush seemed to fall on the scene. The Union-jack was hauled slowly down, and ‘The Fanny,’ obedient to the concerted signal, struck her flag at the same moment. The sun had set!

Esneh — Dancing girls — Mehemet Ali — Summary justice — The mountain of the Chain — Angling in the Nile — A battle with the natives.

Our dragoman, Daireh, had made a solemn prediction, that the favourable breeze, which lasted all the time we lingered at Thebes, would, on the morrow, entirely die away; and though modern prophesies are seldom realized, the result proved him a complete Murphy. For two days we were becalmed, and with our utmost efforts, could only accomplish ten miles. But the morning of the third brought out Æolus once more, and the huge sail swelled to the wind, and bore us rapidly on. Gradually the breeze increased, and the water became quite troubled, making the motion extremely disagreeable. This lasted till three o’clock, when we arrived at Esneh, distant from Thebes between fifty and sixty miles; here we anchored, being under an engagement to remain twenty-four hours, that our crews might bake a fresh supply of bread.

Esneh is, in point of size, a town of some importance, but has little else to recommend it. It is the Egyptian Botany Bay,—all loose and depraved characters being sent there from Cairo. We had a glimpse of the staple of the population in some dancing-girls, who, immediately on our arrival, came down to the shore, and danced for some time before our boat. The performance was anything but graceful, and by no means delicate. All the time it lasted, these Eastern Undines kept up an incessant cry for baksheesh, making our ears ring with their voices; and certainly, if a douceur could ever be turned to account, baksheesh would have been well bestowed in getting rid of them.

Soon afterwards we had a visit from a person of a different stamp, but who was scarcely less importunate. This was an officer in the service of the Governor, who, with as little ceremony as can well be imagined, quietly ensconced himself in our cabin, and seemed determined on retaining possession. He was very inquisitive, asking questions with American avidity, and took a strange fancy, which he by no means strove to conceal, to everything his eye fell upon. One moment he wished to be presented with our rifles; the next, he begged hard for the inkstand; and what was more amusing, refusal made not the least impression upon him. It was with some difficulty that, after repeated efforts, we got rid of him, at last, with the help of some cigars and a little wine.

The people on shore were at the same pitch of barbarism; on going over the town, we were mobbed in every street, while swarms of children, who followed in the background, cheered us in the most vehement manner. This did not prevent our visiting the various places of resort, and I had the satisfaction of hunting out a temple, which almost escapes the notice of travellers, and is not mentioned in the guide-books with sufficient praise. It is approached from the bazaar, on emerging from which it presents itself. Thirty-six lofty and massive columns, with capitals of distinct orders, support the roof, which is entire, and in beautiful preservation. Three of the sides, embellished with hieroglyphics, both indented and in relief, are also standing; and, having been cleaned by Mehemet Ali, look amazingly fresh. The columns are extremely grand, and are untainted by the grotesque. Antiquaries, fix the date of the structure at about A.D. 20, which would make it of Roman origin; and from the unique character and beauty of the architecture, superior to anything we had yet seen, we were inclined to concur in their verdict.

Esneh also boasts a royal palace, which, as one of the retreats of the renowned Mehemet Ali, we could not leave unvisited. It is a quiet little villa, furnished with innumerable divans, and painted and decorated in the usual manner. In one of the rooms we found a handsome French bedstead, which seemed strangely out of place, the rest of the furniture being so essentially Oriental. The grounds, though not extensive, are laid out in good taste, and include a tolerable kitchen-garden. In the time of Mehemet Ali, they were kept in admirable order, though on one occasion, arriving unexpectedly, the great Pasha found they had been neglected, and sending for the Governor of Esneh, admonished him to take care this did not occur again, giving him two hundred lashes with the bastinado to impress it on his memory. The lesson had its effect, and there never was any further cause for complaint.

We were much concerned, in our way through the town, to observe the numbers of men who had maimed or mutilated themselves to escape the hateful yoke of the conscription. So great is the repugnance to this cruel servitude, that in Esneh there is scarcely one man in five, between the ages of twenty and fifty, who has not been hideously disfigured by his own hand. Some have deprived themselves of an eye; others have torn out their teeth; and several, more desperate, have chopped off their fingers, or their good right hand. Such are the horrors of Eastern despotism!

It was nearly five o’clock before we could get away from Esneh, when the wind, which had been pretty steady hitherto, began to fall, and our progress became slow. On the two following days we had a succession of little breezes, carrying us on a few miles, and then dying away. The second evening brought us to Gebel-Silsilus, or the Mountain of the Chain, where, according to Arab authorities, one of the ancient kings fixed a chain across the river, and exacted toll of all vessels passing beneath. Here we went on shore, and climbing a lofty hill, obtained a commanding view of the desert, which stretched far away on either side, while the Nile, girded with a narrow strip of vegetation, growing every moment “beautifully less,” lay stretched out below. The desert was not the boundless, unbroken plain of sand of our home traditions; and ridge upon ridge of towering hills met our eyes, following at intervals upon each other, nearly all crowned with the tomb of a Sheik, which in the distance formed a most picturesque object. There was one of these rude memorials on the hill where we stood; and a few of our sailors, who had followed us up from the boat, deposited some five para-pieces in its centre heap, as an offering to the mouldering bones beneath.

While our boats were at anchor, we made some experiments in fishing, and not without a degree of success. First we hooked up a turtle, eighteen inches long, and weighing twelve lbs., which our ingenious Abbas very soon converted into capital soup. Our next prize was a more startling one, though no great delicacy, being nothing less than an alligator-lizard, about four feet long, supposed by the ignorant natives to be the product of an addled crocodile’s egg. We preserved its skin as a trophy.

These tranquil occupations were interrupted by a dire uproar, such as would have disturbed the serenity even of Izaak Walton. Our two crews, like all Arabs, had very imperfect perceptions of meum and tuum, and in this respect, were aptly described by the dragoman as “very rascal people.” It was their constant practice, whenever an opportunity presented itself, to carry off from the shore every fragment of wood they could lay their hands on, wholly regardless as to who was the lawful owner; and on the present occasion, being hard pushed for fire-wood, and finding nothing portable, they had pounced upon a shadoof, at that moment actually in operation, and brought it bodily off. This outrage aroused the indignation of some labourers, by whom it had been observed, and they collected on the shore, demanding restitution. Our men, however, were in no mood for it—stripping to the waist, they snatched their sticks from the boat, and announced their determination to retain their spoil. On this, the enraged labourers set up a yell, that would have done honour to Tipperary, at the same time throwing handfuls of dust in the air, which, I presume, is the Egyptian mode of declaring war, being invariably followed by an onslaught. The tocsin sounded by their voices elicited a prompt response; and from every quarter—

At least fifty half-naked savages came rushing down, armed with murderous-looking clubs, and not a few with spears, while one gaunt fellow, a very Ramesis in stature, ostentatiously brandished a sword. They made a desperate attempt to board the boat, but were driven off, when the fight was continued in a cotton-field, the owner of which, a poor, inoffensive old man, had his arm broken in the mêlée. At length, the enemy gave way, though not till we had lost a tarboosh, belonging to one of the crew, that was displayed as a trophy by its captor, who, however, made an overture for the suspension of hostilities. Orders had already been given to restore the shadoof; and, now that a truce was established, it was most amusing to see some of our men, who were natives of this part of the country, recognizing brothers and kinsmen among their antagonists, and kissing them in the most loving manner. To render the spectacle more ludicrous, these fraternizing warriors exhibited on their faces significant tokens of each other’s prowess. On the whole, however, the casualties were slight. Our dragoman, who greatly distinguished himself, received a blow in the height of the combat, from one of his own comrades, which sprained his wrist; and our two captains were both severely bruised. One had maintained, for some time, an unequal contest with an Arab, armed with an axe, which he most adroitly parried with a stick, though, with all his dexterity, it frequently came much too near his head. But the occurrence, however annoying in some respects, taught all a lesson, and strict orders were issued that no such provocation should be given again, and no more wood stolen. Meanwhile, peace was re-established, and all but the crew and two or three of their friends dispersed, leaving the shore deserted—

A light wind brought us next morning to Assouan, after a passage of twenty-seven days from Cairo—an average run, the range of passages being from twenty-one days to thirty-one.

Assouan — The treaty with the Reis — The quarries — The Persian invasion — Caravan of slaves — Hunting for jackals — Daireh’s love story.

The approach to Assouan is through a scene singularly beautiful. The river, sweeping abruptly round, opens into a kind of bay, shut in by the picturesque island of Elephantina, and terminated by high, bold rocks, looking like the boundaries of a lake. Assouan lies, like a nest, under towering crags, crowned with ruins, the remains of a town of importance, and is itself a village of some pretensions. It is on the left bank of the river, here much contracted, entering upon a region of a totally different character. The prospect from the heights is of great extent, and surpassing interest, including a wide sweep of Egypt and Nubia—countries most distinct in their features—and a noble expanse of wood and water, hill and lowland, in the midst of which lie the lovely shades of Elephantina.

We had arranged to receive our letters at Assouan; and after being so long without intelligence from home, and a full month having elapsed since we had even seen a European face, we were most impatient to ascertain what awaited us. We were soon on our way to the Post-office, where the postmaster, a fine old Arab, received us very courteously, and produced two budgets of letters and a copy of the “Times,” for which we paid the not unreasonable charge of six shillings and sixpence. These treasures had been brought from Cairo overland, by pedestrian messengers, called runners, who relieved one another at stated distances; and the packets had been fingered by every Pasha and Bey of the various towns on the route. The “Times” was a month old, but quite fresh to us; even the advertisements were devoured, and proved tolerably digestible.

Assouan is the porch to the first cataract of the Nile; and our news from England was scarcely discussed, when the cataract authorities, ever alive to business, paid us a visit, and set to work to get as high a price as possible for carrying us over. One would have supposed, however, from the tenor of their conversation, that such a project was the very furthest from their thoughts, and it was long before they could be entrapped into the most remote allusion to it. Daireh predicted that the negotiation would last three days; but we were determined, if our united tact could accomplish it, to finish all at one sitting. Pipes and coffee were introduced, and the most alluring hints thrown out; but the Reis of the cataract, who saw a trap in every word, would speak of anything but what he had come about. At length, he remarked, with great gravity and decision, that it was quite out of the question to think of taking our boat up, as it was too large, and could not possibly be got over. Hereupon the bargaining commenced, and after a contest of two hours’ duration, it was definitively settled that we should be taken up the cataract on the morrow, and let down on our return, for the sum of £7, being £3 10s. for each boat.

While the various articles of this important treaty were being discussed, a crowd collected in front of the boats on shore, gradually increasing to several hundreds, and giving great animation to the scene. Some had friends among our crews, a few of whom, as old hands, had ascended the cataract again and again; and these kept up a dialogue of the most sprightly character. Others were connected with the Reis of the cataract, or felt interested in the negotiation; and many were venders of articles of vertu, as it is understood here, embracing in their stock an assortment of spears and clubs, ostrich eggs and feathers, and some genuine modern antiquities, among which I noticed the blade of a knife, marked with the hieroglyphics of Rogers & Co. But as soon as the contract was settled, the Reis took his departure, and the crowd dispersed.

In the afternoon, when the heat of the day had subsided, we rode out to the quarries of red granite and sienite, which are a short distance from the village, on the other side of the Nile. The excavations are on a scale commensurate with the vast works they were destined to construct, and the rocks have been hewn out as easily as if they had been clay. The wedge, which seems to have been used from the earliest ages, was the great power in requisition for such service. When the block was marked out by wedges, water was poured in, which, causing the wood to swell, the rock burst asunder, and gave forth material for a column, or a god. The shattered heights are covered with rude inscriptions, referring to blocks cut out, and some commemorating victories of the ancient Pharoahs, by whose command the excavations were made. All seems as if it were the creation of yesterday; as if the artificers, called off by some emergency, had but just left their mighty labour. Even the traces of the wooden wedges are still apparent in the rocks; and the obelisk which was hewn out for removal, but in consequence of some flaw not taken away, still stands where it was left by the workmen. The excavations are said to have been arrested by the Persian Conquest, which, at the same time, overthrew the proud temples they had helped to raise, and heaped the country with ruins. It would almost seem, on glancing round, that the same imperious hand had diverted the natural course of the river, as a strip of desert lies between the quarries and the high ground near the water, strewn with enormous boulders, looking as though they had but just been washed from the heights by some resistless torrent, while the Nile forces a passage over rocks beyond, forming the first cataract. But this may appear an idle speculation, and standing here, only one problem presents itself—how such stupendous blocks, cut in one mass from the quarries, could be removed to such a distance as Thebes? The exact means of transit indeed must ever remain a mystery, but it seems certain that they were conveyed by land; and Herodotus, who took infinite pains to arrive at the truth, mentions that two thousand men were employed three years in transporting one block to its destination.

It was with some reluctance that we turned from these strange diggings, and retraced our steps to the boats. On our way we descried a covey of partridges, the first we had yet seen, but which proved the harbingers of many others. Fortune, however, delights in cross-purposes, and it so happened that this was the only time we had come on shore without our guns, being utterly weary of carrying fire-arms for no purpose. But we had now a prospect before us, and for the future went prepared.

Just before reaching the boats, we came upon a large party of female slaves, on their way down to Cairo, where, in the lottery of the slave-market, they were to pass to new masters. They were penned like sheep in a range of little huts, formed by hanging matting round a clump of palm trees, which spread their grateful shade above. It was most amusing, as we drew near, to see the rush they made to gain cover, and how they ducked their heads under the matting, to avoid being seen, though curiosity, the weak point of the sex, brought up again many a pair of bright eyes, to look at us as we passed. They were nearly all young girls, varying in age from twelve to sixteen; and a merrier set could not be met with. The woods rang with their pleasant laughter; and one might have thought—what perhaps was not very far from the truth—that in place of now entering the house of bondage, they had left it behind in their own country. Their masters, from all we could learn, are uniformly kind to them; and whenever we encountered a party, we found that the girls were much attached to the head of their caravan. The bevy we now saw was from Abyssinia—whence, indeed, most of the female slaves of Egypt are drawn—and was destined, as the Abyssinian girls usually are, for the Turkish hareems, or as wives of shop-keepers and affluent Arabs. Their colour was a glossy black; they were exceedingly well made, and had bright cheerful faces, lit up by sparkling black eyes. They all seemed very shy, and could not be induced to come out of their huts, or even to let us approach them. There was but one who showed more confidence, a very fine young woman, apparently about twenty-five years of age, who brought out her baby, a most beautiful child, almost a Murillo in colour, and exquisitely formed. We offered to purchase it, but, though she seemed flattered, the mother’s heart clung to her child, and she could not be tempted to part with it. We gave her some money for grease, which had an immediate effect on her spirits, and then left her, the envy of the whole sisterhood.

In the evening we went out with our guns, and accompanied by a guide, in quest of jackals, which he undertook to find for us. It was quite dark, and we walked silently along, in Indian file, over the hill, keeping both eye and ear on the alert, and our guns ready for service. We soon discovered traces of the enemy, and heard his wailing cry, but this was the limit of our success. The moon rising, rendered it light as day; and though our companion, putting a good face on the matter, was still profuse in promises, it required no long time to convince us that there was but little chance of our obtaining any sport. The pursuit, however, had not been unattended with excitement, and we were amply compensated for our walk by the brilliant landscape, which, in that mystic light, surpassed anything that could be imagined.

Returning on board, we found that the crew had retired, and all was made snug for the night. Daireh, our dragoman, was lying on his rug at the cabin-door, his usual resting-place, and was half asleep; but quickly aroused himself, and in another moment was seen smoking. The two watchers were amusing each other by recounting the Arabian Nights; and Daireh, between the long puffs of his pipe, translated one story, recording the eventful fortunes of the prince who was carried off from Damascus in his drawers, in the dead hour of the night. From this, being in a communicative mood, he turned to some incidents of his own life, and then related how he first fell in love, and with what result, expressing himself with indescribable delicacy and feeling.

Poor Daireh, it should seem, was attending a traveller in the Syrian desert, when they encountered a large caravan of slaves, one of whom, a lovely young girl, who had seen some fifteen summers, won the dragoman’s heart. He described her as very fair, with beautiful soft eyes, like a gazelle’s, and raven hair, and as having a light, ringing laugh, which struck on his ear like music. All at once, Daireh discovered that he should be very lonely when he returned home, and he mentioned the subject to his master, who, with the sagacity of Achitophel, recommended marriage. Accordingly, Daireh, only too eager, went to the head of the caravan, and bought the girl for fifteen pounds, on which, with a delicacy very foreign to the usages of his country, he asked her to marry him, at the same time telling her that she was perfectly free, and could act as her own choice directed. Even if she could, under such circumstances, have hesitated, a tempting promise of the dresses and delicate food, with which Daireh adroitly backed his offer, was irresistible, and the fair enslaver gave a glad consent. They were married at Beyrout, and thence proceeded to Cairo, where, having a competent income, they lived very happily for two years, in the course of which Daireh was presented with a very fine boy, on whom both he and the fond mother centred all their hopes. Now came the blight on the honest dragoman’s life. The child sickened and died!

It was most touching to hear the poor fellow describe, in his mournful tones, how he had tried to console and support his wife under their sad bereavement. Like all the women of the East, she had a passion for dress, and he thought to win her from her sorrow by costly presents; but the time was gone when, in the freedom of a happy heart, such things could bring light to her eye, or a smile to her lip. Her tears still flowed, and the world, which had just before been so full of promise, had for her lost all its charms. Her heart was weary and heavy-laden, and pined for that last resting-place, which held in its cold embrace her buried treasure. On the third day the poor mourner died.

Such was Daireh’s tale, evincing a tenderness and a flow of sentiment which seemed quite incongruous in one of his race and caste. Who, under so rugged an exterior, would have looked for the pearl of genuine love, or the cherished memories of a secret sorrow? But nature asserts her sway under every peculiarity; and savage indeed is the bosom that is not moved in some way by the impulses of human kindness!

I could offer him no consolation, when he had finished his story, though I felt, without a word being said, that his emotion was all the more painful for being repressed. Perhaps the unwonted stillness, and the solemn repose of the surrounding scene, resplendent with almost unearthly light, were more in unison with his feelings, and exercised over him both a soothing and consoling influence. He finished his pipe in silence, when I bade him good night, and left him to his reflections.

Philæ.

Eight o’clock on the following morning brought us the various authorities of the cataract, eager to secure their prize; and we instantly set sail, beating up the river with a fair wind, without which it would have been impossible to force our way against the current. The Nile, hitherto as broad as an estuary, is here very narrow, and strewn with islands and shoals. The richly-cultivated banks, the groves of palm and date trees, the busy shadoofs, and the troops of husbandmen, giving such animation to the scene, have vanished; and in their place, we now see a wild and desolate shore, choked with sand-banks, over which frown high precipitous rocks. Though attended with danger, the passage was full of novelty, which made it agreeable and nature appeared more striking in her naked grandeur and simplicity. Perhaps a sense of peril was not without effect on the crew; I never, during our stay in Egypt, knew Arabs so quiet, and never saw them so active and prompt.

At every turn, there was something to excite new caution; and the river, opening like a lake, wound its way through banks and rocks, where the least oversight would have led to the most disastrous consequences. In these intricate channels the steering was inimitable, and showed a thorough mastery of the navigation. The water, usually so smooth and gentle, had become a rapid, and in mid-channel dashed along like a torrent; but our boats pushed on, and stemmed it bravely. Once only a fall of about two feet impeded their progress, but the Sheik, with surprising alertness, immediately sprang overboard, and with a rope over his neck, made his way through the current to a small rock, round which he fastened the rope, and then pulled us on. In two hours a sweep in the river opened the view to some distance, and we came in sight of the cataract, pouring down its volume of water in a sheet of foam, which sparkled in the sun like light. We now drew on one side, and anchored under the lee of an island, whose eastern shore, girded by bold and rugged rocks, forms one of the barriers of the cataract.

At this place we expected, according to our agreement with the Sheik, to find a number of natives assembled, for the purpose of dragging us up the falls; but, of course, not a solitary individual could be seen. The Sheik, who was one of the coolest fellows imaginable, understood all this, and very deliberately went on shore, loaded with the imprecations of the crew, to enlist the men whom he had promised to have awaiting us on the spot. We found, therefore, that grumbling would have no effect, and that we must be content to remain stationary for the next twenty-four hours, as there was not the least chance of our being able to proceed earlier.

The scenery was such as might have reconciled us to a longer sojourn, and the eye was never weary of its attractions, glancing from the whirl of waters, as they dashed over the fall, to the abutting rocks, which reared their flinty summits in a thousand fantastic shapes, or at the little islands further down, rising from the rapid waves through a framework of lupins and beans, with their gay blossoms washed by the stream. But we were impatient to visit a spot, pre-eminent even here for its beauty and renown. Philæ, was only a short distance above the cataract, and we determined to spend the day in an excursion to its shores.

Our two jolly-boats were hoisted over the cataract in a quiet way, with the greatest facility, and now awaited us just beyond. We walked round, and on reaching the rendezvous, were surprised to find that, notwithstanding our unobtrusive movements, a crowd had assembled to see us set off. There were the usual venders of antiquities and ostrich eggs, and all the idlers the neighbourhood could furnish. Some, who could devise no other means of laying us under contribution, proposed to swim across the river, at the point where the current was most violent, for the smallest consideration imaginable; and it was with difficulty we escaped from their overtures. No feat they could perform in the water would have excited our astonishment, being aware, from what we had seen on our way up, that habit had made it almost their element. As we shoved off, we saw a woman ferrying herself over on a plank, which she moved along by paddling her feet, at the same time bearing an enormous load of grass on her head. It was amazing to see how composedly she sat, while piloting herself among the rocks and reefs, and supporting such a heavy weight.

The river here opens into innumerable little creeks and channels, flanked by rocks, which assume at a distance the appearance of temples, and on coming nearer, are found to impend over the water in the most singular manner, as if the slightest touch would hurl them down. Through this romantic avenue the traveller obtains his first glimpse of Philæ, which rises up out of the deep-blue of the Nile, its whole front covered by the temple, the chaste columns and granite walls of which are overshadowed by trees.

On either side, the main land is embanked by mighty boulders, piled up with such a show of art, and so much precision, it is difficult to believe that they have been thrown there by the hand of Nature.

One immense heap surprized us greatly. It was by far the highest, and rose at the summit in the form of a triangle—one half abutting from a huge mass below, hung in mid-air, while the boulder on which it thus partially rested appeared also to be suspended. We could not resist the temptation to climb these dangerous heights; looked down from their grotesque peaks on the fairy island below, which, Narcissus like, seemed to be contemplating its image, so faithfully mirrored in the bright, clear waters.

Philæ undoubtedly owes much to its position, which combines with its peculiar attractions, to render it the most beautiful island in the world. It is belted round with a quay, though the work of very early times, some still in good condition; and where the stones have mouldered away, or fallen, some ministering hand has planted lupins, which clothe the whole place with verdure. The island seems to have formed one vast temple, and its crumbling ruins, spread over its surface, still retain an appearance of order, and of completeness, strange even in Egypt. We landed at some broken stairs, and made our way through a court-yard, heaped with fallen pillars, to a spacious hall, decorated with paintings, in red, yellow, green and blue, brighter and fresher than any we had yet seen. The ground was carpeted with grass; moss and wild flowers sprang from the ancient stones; and, here and there, a tall palm-tree threw its shadow on the wall, or a mimosa drooped gracefully over a broken column. Thence we wandered away into the dark chambers, which the light of day had never entered. There are a great number of these rooms, and it is impossible to conjecture the purpose they were devoted to. Perhaps here were solemnized, under a veil of darkness, rites which outraged every feeling of humanity; or mysteries which masked, in idolatrous myths, the principles of true religion. Here the candidate for the priesthood may have been taught the duties of his office; here the sacrifice may have been prepared and adorned for the altar. The long range of chambers once probably resounded with midnight orgies, and bacchanalian shouts; or, which seems more probable, may have been the prison of groaning captives, destined as a propitiation to Moloch.

From these mysterious precincts we passed to a propylon, and then, through a noble porch, into a large open court, once enclosed by double rows of columns, most of which still remain. It was no doubt in this area that the laity congregated, previously to entering the temple to worship. Some authorities have asserted that, on certain great days, the priests assembled here to prophesy, and even to display their erudition to the people.

A massive staircase, constructed in the thickness of the wall, brought us to a platform above, where we came on a beautiful little temple, standing quite alone, on the verge of the quay, which commanded a magnificent prospect of the river. The columns, that run along the whole front, are surmounted by square blocks, instead of the usual elaborate capitals, and have a very striking effect. The island here expanded before us like a map, showing all its picturesque features at a glance; and, with one consent, we instantly fixed upon it as our most eligible resting-place.

In sauntering through the ruins, we fell upon some amusing and even ludicrous inscriptions. By one it appeared that, in those olden times, Philæ was a favourite haunt of the Egyptian nobility; who, however, with an eye to economy worthy of more modern days, expected, on visiting this sacred retreat, to be feasted and lodged at the expense of the priesthood. The consequence of this custom was, that the priests were impoverished, and the temple left unprovided; at last the former, losing all patience, made a representation of the circumstances to the King. The petition is duly set forth on the stone; and above, couched in the same magniloquent phrases, is the King’s answer, which prohibits the nobility for the time to come victimizing these holy men.

In strange conjunction with these venerable memorials, stand inscriptions by the travellers of to-day, usurping equal prominence on the time-honoured walls. All who are interested in the sentiments of a tourist named Smith, who lately visited the ruins, may find his impressions of the place legibly recorded, with his classic and unique name written in full, below. A long list of other names, with kindred pretensions to renown, are paraded on the adjoining wall, in letters of fearful length, and the traveller has the satisfaction of ascertaining that he has been preceded in his visit by divers representatives of the Thompsons and the Browns. To impress this more indelibly on his memory, the fact is emblazoned on fragments which even the ruthless hand of Time has scrupled to touch, that retain the perfect beauty and even the bright fresh colours with which they were originally decorated.

Our boatmen, indifferent alike to the beauties of nature and the wonders of art, had become impatient at our long stay, and at length we gratified them by returning. They pulled along most vigorously, and soon reached the landing-place, where we scrambled ashore, and made our way round the cataract to our vessels.

The first Cataract of the Nile.

The cataract is an incline of about one hundred feet in length, and eight or ten feet in depth. The river narrowing just above, precipitates its immense volume of water down this slope, with prodigious violence, and with a noise like thunder. The rocks on either hand, washed by the flood, make the picture more striking, and add to the difficulty and the danger of the ascent.

Soon after breakfast, a very long and staunch rope was fastened round the masts of ‘The Fanny,’ and then laid along the rocks as far as it would go, to be pulled on a concerted signal; a shorter one was laid out in the same way; and a third was fastened midships, and thrown ashore, to keep the vessel, on her way up, close to the rocks, as the current would otherwise drag her into the middle of the stream, when certain destruction would ensue. This catastrophe nearly happened a few years ago, when one of the Pasha’s boats got into the rapids, and his Highness, who was on board, had a narrow escape of his life. From that time, the greatest precautions have been taken to prevent any similar occurrence.

Hundreds of people had now assembled on shore to witness the ascent; at length the boats were manned, and the boat loosed from her moorings. The cataract pilot seized the helm; the Reis, a fine, hale old man, gave the word to proceed; and a hundred and thirty men on shore, and about thirty on deck, hauled away at the ropes. The cataract came thundering down; the air rang with the cries and shouts of the pullers; the water flew past in foaming waves, dashing its clouds of spray over the deck; and the gallant boat held on her way. In a moment more, she bounded against the bottom; the rushing flood seemed to struggle for the mastery, making her tremble in every plank. But instantly the old Reis darted overboard, dived under her stern, and, with a desperate effort, shoved her on. Then he sprang ashore, struck in among the lazy pullers, who were invoking help from Allah, and laid about him right and left with a whip. Thus driven, the men hauled away at the ropes, while those on bread, who worked with great diligence, kept thrusting planks between the vessel and the rocks, to prevent her grazing against them. Others ran alongside, and every now and then plunged into the water, to shove her off a sunken shoal, or over a shallow. Stronger and stronger became the torrent; the waves beat more furiously against the boat; the spray and the foam whirled over her; the roar grew more and more deafening; and then, with one mighty lift—one lurch forward, she passed the fall, and floated in smooth water.

The hauling-up occupied sixty-five minutes, though less than half the number of English sailors would have accomplished it in half the time. Indeed, ‘The Eagle,’ though a heavier boat, was hoisted up within the fifty minutes, and moored alongside her consort.

A small island lay between the boats and the shore, and over this the men brought all our stores and baggage, which, in order to lighten the vessels, had been taken out below the cataract, and piled up on the bank. It was really quite exciting to watch them coming across this romantic spot, bearing every kind of burden, in regular succession, as if the place were a haunt of pirates or smugglers collecting their booty. This booty constituted a very miscellaneous assortment; but barrels of flour and rice, bags of sugar, books and guns, formed, after all, no bad supply of the munitions of war.

At noon our sails were again loosed, and expanding to the breeze, bore us steadily on. After proceeding a short distance, we hove-to for a few minutes, to land the Reis of the cataract, who, as the navigation was somewhat difficult at first, came with us till we were perfectly clear of all obstacles. I was much taken with this old man, whom Mr. Warburton, in his widely-known work, has already introduced so favourably to the English reader. Having a copy of ‘The Crescent and the Cross’ at hand, I showed him his portrait, and made Daireh translate what the Author has said of him, at which, as may be imagined, he was much gratified. He remembered Mr. Warburton very well, and expressed a hope that he would soon come to Egypt again, and pay him another visit.

We now entered the narrow channel that washes the banks of Philæ, and as we sailed past, obtained a charming view of the island, which at different points, broke upon us like a fresh scene. Then we came on the wild and desert shores of Nubia, with their battlements and pinnacles of rock, starting up in every diversity of height and form. At long intervals, villages of wretched huts crown the heights, or straggle down to the river; and a few palm-trees or acacias, instead of groves of date trees, and plantations of the fragrant mimosa, throw a scanty shade around. The people, too, have changed; and the hardy Nubian, with his unveiled wife, and dark, chubby children, forms a striking contrast to the effeminate Egyptian. A fine open countenance, lit up by expressive eyes, with stalwart limbs, and magnificent proportions, express both his character and his strength. The Nubians have the same reputation in Egypt that has been won by the Swiss in Europe, and are distinguished alike for honesty, courage, and sagacity. The women, tutored only by nature, have a style and beauty peculiarly their own. Their little blue dress, which but half veils their forms, is worn with an air almost classic, and they possess in a high degree the grace of motion. This is especially apparent in the young girls, whose only attire is a girdle of leather, thickly hung with beads. The children abandon dress altogether, though in presence of strangers, they go about very timidly, and can hardly be tempted to closer acquaintance by any amount of biscuit. When once their diffidence is overcome, however, they are extremely docile; indeed, in their conduct, they might teach a lesson to the children of the polite world. It is a pleasant sight to watch a troop of the little urchins following their mother or sister from the well, playing merrily about her, with shouts of mirth and ringing laughter, as she walks thoughtfully along, bearing on her head a large jar of water, and displaying in every movement a grace unstudied and unconscious.

Korosko — Shooting excursion — Crocodiles — Ipsamboul — Colossal statue.

Korosko, situated on the bend of the river, was the first Nubian village we visited. It is merely a collection of huts, formed of mud walls, covered in at the top with matting. There are no turreted pigeon-house towers over the roof, as in the villages of Egypt, and there is an absence of all attempt at ornament. The little hovels, however, are much cleaner, and there is even an appearance of comfort about them, which is never seen in Arab domiciles. As we stayed here all night, we saw a good deal of the people, and were much prepossessed by their simplicity and integrity. They possess many excellent characteristics; in short, they present us with the Oriental character under one of its most agreeable aspects. In personal appearance they differ from the Egyptians only in colour, but their fine limbs have no covering, and a cloth round their loins is all their dress. They wear their beard long, and reeking with oil; and, like the Eastern nations of antiquity, have the nose hung with a ring, generally of gold or silver. The women also wear these pendants, both in the nose and ears.

A caravan had just arrived, which, with our boats, made the little community quite busy, and brought every one out of doors, flocking to the river, just in front of our anchorage: the scene, as evening came on, was exceedingly animated and picturesque. The camel-drivers, a rugged, unsophisticated race, were prominent figures in the crowd; from them the eye turned on the patient and submissive camels, lying down by their huge burdens, after their long march over the burning sand. The drivers trafficked in ostrich feathers and eggs; and, to make friends with them, we bought some of each, paying almost a London price for the feathers; which, however, were very fine ones. They told us, among other things, that we need be under no fear of wanting water in the desert, as it had lately rained there, and this would insure a good supply. We found they had been thirty days coming across from Khartoum, and had suffered much from the heat.

At Korosko, we lost what, in our emigrant vessels, is called a stow-away; a man, named Ali Suleiman, who had come on board at Cairo without our knowledge, and obtained a passage to Nubia. After we started, he well earned this indulgence by his assiduous attention and diligence, and we had learnt to consider him an acquisition. He was a most devout Mussulman; and, in accordance with the Prophet’s command, knelt five times a-day in prayer. I have seen his fine form bending on the deck under the glare of the noon-day sun; and frequently, when I have come late on deck, have found him praying at midnight. He was still some distance from his native village, which we should not reach till the next day; but, impatient to arrive at home, he determined to walk on, and was soon on his way.

We left Korosko ourselves early in the morning, and borne along by a fine southerly breeze, the first we had had from that quarter since our departure from Cairo, came to Dour by half-past three in the afternoon. The shore, as usual, was crowded with persons awaiting our approach; and foremost in the throng was honest Ali Suleiman, easily distinguished by his flowing robe of white calico, and his yellow turban, drooping at the end. He came to renew his thanks, and to present us an offering of dates—a simple but gratifying tribute, rendered in the most graceful manner.

Soon afterwards we went on shore, taking our guns, but there was little shooting, except doves, of which we might have brought down any number. As we proceeded we met a boy with a camelion, which he offered for sale, and we were only too willing to become its purchasers. This, however, was no easy matter, as its owner, like the robber-boy in the “Heart of Midlothian,” who preferred the white siller to the more precious and unknown gold, knew only one class of coin, and could not be brought to appreciate any other. We offered him half a piastre, but he refused it, demanding ten paras, about half the sum in copper; and it required our last halfpenny to make up the amount. At length we concluded the bargain, and carried off our camelion.

The day closed with a sunset of surpassing beauty, such as no language could adequately describe, or any imagination conceive. The brilliant red glow gradually softened away in a thousand varied tints, appearing in the distance with new distinctness, in numberless bright reflections like liquid flame. Then the gorgeous colouring blended with the first shades of twilight, ushering in the dawn of Venus, followed by the rising moon, in whose silver light, as it spread over the heavens, the planet set. Beneath were the creeping shadows, the calm, placid waters, and the silent and quiescent landscape, composing altogether a scene bright enough to awaken inspiration.