way about in it. He had probably begun to think that there never had been such a place.
But Egypt is full of real things, and probably the most genuine thing of them all is the English occupation. Egypt herself is the best proof of how necessary to her well-being this is. It is hard to tell just how unhappy the fellaheen were before the English came. The Egyptian is not the sort of man that complains. After centuries of oppression, he now accepts whatever form of government is offered in a browbeaten way, and shuffles along after his donkey, and pays his tax for bringing a few bundles of clover across the bridge into Cairo without a murmur; and, judging by his looks, I doubt if he would make much disturbance if he found, some morning, that the tax on his clover had been doubled. He evidently feels like a very small depositor in a broken bank. England is the largest creditor, and is straightening things out for them both, and he is satisfied.
There never were so many cooks trying to spoil a broth. Before a consul-general is received by the Khedive, the Sultan of Turkey must first approve of him, and it is said that the Sultan allows months to go by before he gives his consent, which is his Oriental way of showing his authority. But Egypt is geographically so important that, in spite of herself, she will be saved, and with England’s help she will some day pay her debts, and in centuries to come the fellah may learn to hold his head up like the Nubian.
There is no fear of Egypt becoming dull and commonplace, for if the East and the West should ever fight, it must be for the possession of her canal; and many an unborn soldier’s reputation will be made before the railroad that has started up the Nile’s valley reaches Cape Town. The same land that offers death and reputation to the strong gives life to the weak, and the tired rich man on his dahabiyeh and the soldier on the transport go up the Nile side by side, and in most cases they both find what they are in search of.
Shepheard’s, in all probability, will forever remain a composite portrait of Europe and Asia, with Cairo as its frame. Time has made, and probably will continue to make, some slight alteration in Upper Egypt’s appearance; but the locomotive’s whistle will have difficulty in breaking the silence and calm of Karnak and Thebes. And the present indications are that Egypt will remain true to the Pharaohs of old, and until the judgment-day she will, in all probability (assisted by the Nile, who made her), continue to quietly resist the attentions of modern nations, and patiently wait for that last day.
At Komombos.
