We began the 27th with a visit to the tombs on Grenfell Hill, high on the river’s bank, below Elephantine. There was a strong wind, full of sand, from the south, and the light natives had trouble in getting the heavy boat to the foot of the hill. The wind helped us back to the Nitocris, and after lunch we crossed the river to Assuan, where the inhabitants seemed especially prepared for tourists. The natives were more theatrical in Assuan, and the bazaars were filled with musical instruments, made as primitive as possible to please the traveler.
Shopping.
There is a railroad at Assuan. It is only a small, disconnected link; but some day it will be part of a road to the Cape, and vestibule trains will run over it, and passengers may get only flying glimpses of Philæ from car windows. Think of being on a train that went by Pharaoh’s Bed in the night! But it is impossible to believe that the world could become used to such a wonderful place, and it is to be hoped that all trains will go slow when they come to Philæ; for without it Egypt would be like “Romeo and Juliet” without a balcony. It is the most romantic ruin in Egypt, and it marks the end of the first-cataract tourist’s journey.
If the Nitocris had been a sailing-dahabiyeh, and had belonged to us, and if the season had been younger and the river higher, we would have had her pulled up one cataract after another until we had made some important discoveries; but we were one-month tourists on a hired boat, and that night, while the Nitocris was tied fast to some large wooden pegs driven deep into the
Shepheard’s Hotel, Cairo.
A Luxor Dancing-girl.