Sesostris
LETTER XX.
Palace of Rhoda.
My dearly beloved Mother:
The excitement, which the return of the triumphant army from its brilliant Ethiopian campaign created, has now subsided, and the cities of Memphis and On, and the thousand villages in the valley of the Nile, have returned to their ordinary quiet, interrupted only by religious processions, the music of a banquet, or the festivities of a marriage. In this delicious climate, where there is no particular incentive to action, the general state of the people is one of indolence and leisure. The chief business, at the marts and quays, is over before the sun is at meridian; and during the remainder of the day, shade and repose are coveted. But when the sun sinks westward, and hangs low over the brown hills of Libya, this inaction ceases, and all classes, in their best apparel and most cheerful looks, fill the streets, the groves, the gardens, the walks and avenues along the river; and the spirit of enjoyment and life reigns.
One evening, not long since, I strolled along the banks of the Nile, beneath a row of mimosa-trees, to enjoy the gay and attractive scenes upon the river. It was covered with gayly painted barges, containing happy family parties, whose musicians played for them as the rowers slowly and idly propelled the boat; others, in sharp-prowed barisæ, darted in emulous races across the water; others were suspended upon the bosom of the stream, fishing for amusement; while others still moved about, with their beautifully pictured sails spread to the gentle breeze, as if enjoying the panorama of the shores they were gliding past.
I had rambled alone some distance up the river, without any vestige of my rank being apparent, in the plain Phœnician costume of a Tyrian merchant (which I often wear, to prevent constant interruption by the homage and prostrations of the deferent Egyptians), when I saw a small baris, containing a single person, coming close to the steps of the extensive terrace of one of the numerous temples of the image of Apis, which here faced the Nile, separated from it only by a double row of sphinxes. It was rowed by four Nubian slaves, clad in white linen vests and fringed loin-cloths, each having a red cap upon his head.
As the boat approached the marble steps, a decorated and unusually elegant galley, containing three young men of rank, as their dress and the emblems on their mast indicated, was coming swiftly down the stream, as if the owner strove to display the fleetness of his vessel before the eyes of the thousands who looked on. The pilot, at the lofty helm, called out to the baris to move quicker away from the line of his course; but either the rowers failed to hear or to comprehend, for they did not turn their heads. On like the wind came the galley. I called aloud to the person who sat in the stern of the baris, and who was intently engaged in reading a book, a portion of which lay unrolled at his feet.
He looked up quickly, and saw, first me, and then, by the direction of my finger, his danger. Before, however, he could give orders to his rowers, I heard one of the young men say to the pilot, who was changing his course a little—