As we go first class, we must pay three cents a mile. The second-class fare is only half as much as the first, and the third is still cheaper. Every train has first-, second-, and third-class cars. Those of the first, which are divided into compartments, are patronized by tourists and officials. The second-class car is much like the coach of our American train, having an aisle through the centre. These cars are used by merchants, commercial travellers, and well-to-do natives. The third-class cars are cheaply made and their seats are wooden benches. They are always filled with the common Egyptians, and foreigners seldom travel in them. Our tickets are little blue cards with the price printed upon them in English and Arabic. We have to show them to the guard as we enter the train, and they are not examined again until they are taken up at the gates of the station as we go out.
We have some trouble with our baggage, for as usual with Americans, we are loaded with trunks. Only fifty-five pounds can be checked without extra charge, and my trunks often cost me more than my fare. We notice that the English and Egyptian passengers put most of their belongings into bundles and bags, which they can bring into the cars with them. Many a single passenger is carrying four or five valises, each holding as much as a small steamer trunk, and the compartments are half filled with such luggage. Every first-class car has a guard, or porter, who helps us off and on, and there are always fellaheen at the depot ready to carry our effects for five cents apiece.
Most of the Egyptian trains have a small car next to the engine, an express car back of that, and also cars for animals. Our train carries one in which are two blanketed horses, with Egyptian grooms to take care of them. They probably belong to some rich nabob of Cairo, and are going south by express.
The postal cars are carefully watched. The bags of mail are carried to them on red trucks made for the purpose. The trucks are pushed by the Arabs and mail is handled by them; but a dark-faced soldier with rifle and sword marches along to see the bags taken in and out. When a truck is loaded, the soldier goes with it to the post-office wagons. There is always a guard on such Nile steamers as carry mail, and the letters are never left without some armed official to watch over them.
The Bisharin are desert folk, whose chief possessions are their wells and flocks. They pity city dwellers and scorn those who till the soil. This aged warrior has his short spear and rawhide shield.
Villages of mud huts spot the banks of the Upper Nile for hundreds of miles. The dates grown along here are sweeter and larger than those from farther down the river.
The Bisharin inhabit the desert beyond the narrow green strip along the Nile. Their matting tents are easily moved from place to place in their search for pasturage.