The open field as we approached it, was on the left of the road, and opposite, on the right hand, was the vice-regal palace known as the Kasr-el-Ali.
Over the road or street in front of the palace, was a sort of arch of triumph, and this was covered with a profusion of lanterns. There were four or five rows of them; the lower one red, the next green, and the rest of other colors, so that the combined effect was quite picturesque and had a great deal of Oriental brilliancy about it.
The street was full of carriages, and the policemen had no easy work to keep the double files in place. Then there were crowds of pedestrians and equestrians, i.e., if a man mounted on a donkey can be called an equestrian—and it was no easy matter to work one’s way through the struggling mass. But luckily it happens that an Arab crowd is a good-natured and non-pushing one, and by a use of time and patience we managed to get along. We were borne on the current into the field where carriages were not allowed to penetrate, and once inside we dismounted and left the donkeys and their drivers to wait till we were ready to return to the boat.
Two sides of the field were bounded by fences, and the other two by tents, each tent quite open at the end next the field. There were three or four bands of music in as many places, and each band played without much regard for the others.
The heavens were ablaze with the glare of rockets, and there were Catherine wheels and composite pieces on frames in countless numbers. On every side you heard expressions of astonishment and delight, just as you hear them under similar pyrotechnic circumstances in New York or elsewhere.
The contrast between the solemn stillness which reigned amid the mighty ruins of the temples, tombs, and cities of the upper Nile, which we had so lately visited, and the brilliancy of the scene we were now gazing upon, excited tumultuous emotions, which I will not stop to analyze. We hastened forward, and in a few minutes succeeded in pushing our way into the centre of the crowd.
