"I welcome you, noble Prince of Tyre, to Egypt! I have been engaged in reviewing the army of the Nile, a day's march hence, and heard but yesterday of your arrival. I hail you, not as a stranger, but as cousin, dear Sesostris; for are we not allied by blood?"
"You, my lord prince," I said, "are descended from two lines of kings—the Syrian and Theban—I from but one. But by that one we are indeed of the same blood. But what is a prince of Tyre, compared with the heir to the throne of Egypt?"
"We are to be friends and equals," he said, smiling, as he pressed my hands. I accepted this pledge of friendship with grateful emotion, my dear mother; and from that moment we became as brothers,—he the elder, I the younger, and looking up to him with admiration and pride, as henceforth my model of what a prince should be.
He remained with me three hours. We discoursed of you, of Tyre, of the beautiful city of Damascus,—my sword of Damascene steel attracting his notice (for he is a famous soldier), and leading to the mention of this city. We talked also of Egypt, and her glory, and her power; of the queen, his mother, and the manners, religion, and policy of the kingdom.
But, my dear mother, I will here close this letter, and in another relate to you what passed at our interview, and the most interesting portion of his conversation.
Your devoted son,
Sesostris.
LETTER III.
The City of the Sun.