At last—Cairo—and we left the train through the long station, bright as day. A car was waiting. The luxury of our room made us feel that we had entered fairyland. It had been so long since we had seen the things for rest, comfort and cleanliness that had in our past been common necessities, that now after these months of journeying about the world they seemed extravagances indeed!
The next morning we looked through the open French windows with their rose hangings, out upon the Pyramids and the Nile. The river lay almost at our feet. The beauty of it was intoxicating in the soft light of the rising sun. When my friend broke the silence she said, “It is indeed beautiful,” then smiling she added “but,—
If I forget thee, O Jerusalem,
Let my right hand forget her skill.
Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth,
If I remember thee not,
If I prefer not Jerusalem
Above my chief joy....
Awake, awake, put on thy strength; put on thy beautiful garments, O Jerusalem, the holy city.... Shake thyself from the dust; arise, sit on thy throne, O Jerusalem.—Peace be unto thee, O Zion.”