THE PYRAMIDS.
There they were, pushing their sharp summits into the western sky, to which the sun was declining, for it was now late in the afternoon. Clearly defined, they rose above the horizon like a cluster of hills from the edge of a plain; and as our friends came nearer and nearer the Pyramids seemed to rise higher and higher, till it was difficult to believe that they were the work of human hands, and were only a few hundred feet in height. In a little while the attention of the youths was drawn to the minarets of the Mosque of Mohammed Ali and the high walls of the Citadel, on the summit of the hill that overlooks and commands the city of Cairo. Their glances turned from pyramids to mosque, and from mosque back again to pyramids, and from the sharp outline of the Mokattam Hills to the glistening sands of the Western Desert. Near by were the rich fields of the Valley of the Nile, and now and then the shining water of the old river was revealed through openings among the fringe of palms; the mud-built villages of the Egyptians passed as in a panorama, the white walls of the houses of Cairo took the place of the more primitive structures, groups of men and camels, and other beasts of burden, were seen wending their way to the great city or returning from it. The population grew more dense, the houses and gardens assumed a more substantial appearance, roads gave way to streets, and gardens to blocks of houses, and all too soon for our excited travellers the train rolled into the station at Cairo, and the journey to the wonderful City of the Caliphs had been accomplished.
From the sentimental to the practical the transition was instantaneous. Hardly had the train halted before the carriages were surrounded by a crowd of hotel runners, dragomen, guides, and other of the numerous horde that live upon the stranger within the gates. Doctor Bronson had telegraphed to the Hotel du Nil to send a carriage and a guide to meet his party at the station; the guide was there with a card from the manager of the hotel, and at once took charge of the strangers and their baggage, and showed the way to the waiting carriage. Frank said he should advise all his friends on their first visit to Cairo to follow the Doctor's example, and thus save themselves a struggle with the unruly crowd and a vast amount of annoyance. The worst feature of a journey in Egypt is the necessity of a constant fight with the great swarm of cormorants that infest all public places where travellers are likely to go; many a journey that would have been enjoyable with this evil removed has been completely spoiled by its presence.
A QUESTION OF BACKSHEESH.
From the moment when you touch Egyptian soil till the moment when you leave it there is little rest from the appeals of the beggar, and the demands, often insolent, of those who force themselves and their services upon you. The word "backsheesh" (a present) is dinned into your ears from morning till night; it is with you in your dreams, and if your digestion is bad you will have visions of howling Arabs who beset you for money, and will not be satisfied. Giving does no good; in fact it is worse than not giving at all, as the suppliant generally appeals for more; and if he does not do so he is sure to give the hint to others who swarm about you, and refuse to go away. If you hire a donkey or a carriage, and give the driver double his fare, in order to satisfy him, you find you have done a very unwise thing. His demand increases, a crowd of his fellows gather around, all talking at once, and there is an effort to convince you that you have not given half enough. Not unfrequently your clothes are torn in the struggle, and if you escape without loss of money or temper you are very fortunate.
The railway-station at Cairo is an excellent place to study the character of the natives, and to learn their views regarding the money of others, and the best modes of transferring it to their own pockets.