Transcriber’s Note: The author's variable spelling has been preserved, except in cases where it could be nothing other than a printing error.

LIFE IN THE SOUDAN

FROM A NEGATIVE BY LOMBARDI, PALL MALL.

Yours very truly

Josiah Williams.

LIFE IN THE SOUDAN:
ADVENTURES AMONGST THE TRIBES, AND TRAVELS
IN EGYPT, IN 1881 AND 1882.

BY
Dr. JOSIAH WILLIAMS, F.R.G.S.
(Surgeon-Major, Imperial Ottoman Army, 1876-1877).

ILLUSTRATED.

LONDON:
REMINGTON & CO., PUBLISHERS,
HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
1884.

[All Rights Reserved.]

To
SIR SAMUEL WHITE BAKER, F.R.G.S.,
I DEDICATE, WITH HIS PERMISSION,
THIS BOOK,
CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF
TRAVELS IN THE SOUDAN
AND EXPLORATION IN THE
BASÉ OR KUNAMA COUNTRY IN 1882.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

CONTENTS.

PREFACE.

The Soudan, two years ago, was a name unknown to the million, and I will venture to say that at that time not one in fifty knew anything about it. Only those who could afford to obtain Sir Samuel Baker’s interesting and instructive work, “The Nile Sources of Abyssinia,” would be acquainted with the locality and other particulars.

The literature extant on Egypt proper would probably amount to tons, but that on the Soudan would occupy a very small space indeed on the library shelf, for the simple reason that so very few have travelled through it.

In November, 1881, I left England to accompany six gentlemen on an exploring expedition in the Soudan, and, in view of passing events in Egypt and that locality, I indulged in the hope that an account of my journey will not be unacceptable to the public. I held the post of medical officer to the expedition, partly on account of my experience in the Turkish war, where I was continually brought face to face with dysentery, ague, and other tropical diseases, which are so easily recognised without any extraneous assistance, medical or lay, but which are troublesome to treat, especially when hampered by an ignorant and fussy interference. Doubtless many faults of omission and commission may be found in my book; but I trust that those who criticise it will do so leniently, and remember that it has been written during spare hours, when the exigencies of practice would allow of my seeking recreation by the use of my pen. “Oh, that mine enemy would write a book!” was the heartfelt expression of a vindictive old gentleman, well known for his great patience. My enemies, I trust, are few; those I have shall be gratified, though I hope I shall not find any who are utterly callous, but will use me in a gentlemanly fashion.

I have ventured to describe not only my travels in the Soudan, but the journey from England and home again, extracted from my journal, which is most accurate, as I kept it religiously day by day. Much of the old-world history has been culled from various sources of information. The Illustrations of Soudan scenery, natives, and objects of interest are from rude sketches of my own, elaborated by Mr. Fanshawe, a perfect master in the art. The frontispiece is from a photograph taken by Messrs. Lombardi and Co., of Pall Mall.

Although I am aware of the fact that Mr. F. L. James has published a book on the Soudan, I have carefully refrained from reading it, fearing I might inadvertently use any of his expressions, and also feeling sure that in some matters we may materially differ in opinion.

Although I have, on some occasions, written for the medical journals, I am quite aware that there may be many faults of style and finish in this my first effort at a book; such shortcomings I would ask the reader to overlook. It is but a plain, unvarnished account of a journey through a territory hitherto but little known, and as such I trust it may be of interest to the majority of my readers.

CHAPTER I.

LEAVE ENGLAND FOR PARIS—DRUGS AND CLOTHING REQUIRED—A “SLEEBY” GERMAN—TURIN.

I was bound for the Soudan, and had arranged to meet my party at Brindisi on the 21st of November, 1881. I therefore sent on all my heavy baggage by Peninsular and Oriental steamer to Suez; included in this was a good-sized medicine chest, well stocked with drugs for the relief or cure of nearly all the ills that flesh is heir to.

I am an old campaigner, having served as a surgeon-major in the Turkish Army in 1876 and ’77, consequently had a very good idea of what drugs would be most necessary and useful. Knowing also that we were going to a very hot part of the globe, I took as few liquids, such as tinctures, &c., as possible.

Everything that I could have made in the form of pills I got Messrs. Richardson and Co., of Leicester, to do; their coated pills stood the journey splendidly, and could always be depended on.

It will not be necessary to enumerate all the contents of the medicine-chest; but I think it might be useful to those who take a similar journey if I mention a few things that ought certainly to be taken, and they are the following: A good stock of quinine, oil of male-fern, as tape-worm is by no means uncommon; ipecacuanha, for that formidable complaint, dysentery; castor oil, opium, Dover’s powder, iodoform, chlorodyne, calomel, blue pill, and various other mercurial preparations, much required for complaints in the Soudan; iodide of potash, carbonate of soda, powdered alum, sulphate of zinc, sugar of lead, solution of atropine, solution of ammonia, Epsom salts, a large bottle of purgative pills, nitrate of silver (lunar caustic), carbolic acid, lint, a few dozen bandages, and plaster in a tin. Ointments are useless, as they soon become quite liquid in such a hot climate, and run all over the medicine chest, making a great mess.

Clothing.—Of course every gentleman will be provided with the ordinary European clothing for use in civilized parts, but such things as nicely-polished boots, collars, neckties, and so forth, may be easily dispensed with in the Soudan. The most necessary articles are two or three dozen pairs summer socks, half-a-dozen thin flannel shirts, three or four silk shirts, three pairs of brown leather lace-up boots, and a comfortable pair of slippers, three or four suits of thin light clothing, a strong jean coat and trousers, that will not be easily torn by the thorns whilst hunting, and a pith helmet.

Soldiers cannot march without easy boots, and travellers cannot travel with comfort unless they have suitable braces. This may seem a small matter to talk about, but I have often heard strong language poured forth at the secession of a trouser-button; and I know from past experience what a nuisance it is to be obliged to sew on one’s trouser-buttons. A long time is spent in searching for a needle and thread, and a much longer time, by the unpractised one, in sewing on the button. Now, fortunately, these annoyances are things of the past, since the invention of what is known as “the traveller’s patent buttonless brace.”

It is simplicity itself. Instead of buttons on the trousers, there are eyelet holes, through which a little bar attached to the brace—instead of a loop—is slipped, and there is an end for ever of the nuisance of buttons coming off.

A good supply of soap for washing clothes should be taken, also plenty for personal use. Pear’s Soap, I think, is an excellent one in every respect. Some of our party took thick woollen pads with them, which they wore over the spine. I did not, neither do I think them at all necessary.

As I was not due at Brindisi until the 21st November, I decided to have a ramble through parts of Italy which I had not before visited. Accordingly, I left England in the early part of the month.

On my way to Paris I made the acquaintance of a German residing in London. We soon got on conversational terms, and ere long he informed me that he had not been well lately, and was much concerned about himself, that one afternoon, feeling rather tired, he lay down on the sofa, intending to have a nap. He was so unhappy or unwise as to sleep for a whole week without once awaking. To sink into this blissful state of oblivion may have its advantages, also its disadvantages. On another occasion he performed the same feat, but indulged in this lethargic propensity for a much longer period. If I remember rightly, he observed this condition during a fortnight. However, I pointed out to him what an immense advantage this was, as he would not have his mind worried by the Income Tax, Poor Rate, and other objectionable collectors; also what a saving in eating and drinking would be effected by this somnia similima mortis habit of his, and that balmy sleep was kind nature’s sweet restorer. Strange to say, my arguments were ineffective, as he replied that “Sleeb vas all very vell in its way, but I would rater not sleeb so much as dat, as I have my business to attend to, for vich I must be wide-avake.”

We were glad to get off the boat that took us from Dover to Calais, as both of us suffered from that miserable complaint, mal-de-mer, to some extent. We reached la belle Paris in the evening, very glad of a rest. After spending two days very pleasantly and agreeably in Paris, I took train at 9 p.m. from the Gare de Lyon for Turin. Fortunately, a French gentleman and I were the only two occupants of the carriage during the night. We turned up the arm-rests, each occupied a side of the carriage, and slept soundly all night. At Maćon we had breakfast, wash and brush up, then resumed our journey. Passing through grand mountain scenery, and quite close to the railway, we passed a beautiful lake some miles in extent, the name of which I forget. When we reached Chambery I lost my agreeable French companion. In the afternoon we ran through the Mont Cenis tunnel, the time occupied being just thirty-eight minutes. The gradient became somewhat steep, and the lovely Alpine scenery glorious and lonely, now winding through deep gorges, anon running downwards for miles along the very edge of a fearful precipice.

I reached Turin in the evening succeeding my departure from Paris. The station is situated in the Piazza Carlo Felice, and is a fine, spacious building. When my luggage had been duly inspected by Custom House officials, I was permitted to transport myself and my belongings to an omnibus from the Hotel Trambetta, whither I was driven just in time for table d’hôte. Immediately after leaving the station the driver was stopped by an official, who opened the door, asked if I had any complaint to make, and looked round to see if there were any provisions, as the octroi duties prevail in Italy. I had no complaint; the door was shut, and off we went.

As I did not intend to remain long in Turin, I was up the following morning in good time, determined to see as much of the place as I could in a short time. The streets are clean and well laid out, the houses large and handsome generally, and the town comparatively modern, although it was originally founded by a tribe called the Taurini, was the capital of Piedmont during the 14th century, and the capital of Italy until 1865. The population is about 208,000, and the University perhaps the most important in Italy, there being over 1,500 students.

I should liked to have spent a week in exploring Turin and the neighbourhood, but had to be content with the short time at my disposal. I took a walk down the Via Lagrange, and soon reached the Palazzo Madama (Piazza Castello). This Palace was used for the sittings of the Italian Senate when Turin was the seat of government (1865). In the early part of last century the mother of King Amadeus lived in and embellished it. Opposite this is the Sardinian monument, presented to the city by the Milanese in 1859, just after the war, on which, in relievo, is the figure of Victor Emmanuel—Il re galuntuomo—at the head of his troops. Just beyond the Palazzo Madama is the Palazzo Reale (Royal Palace). The exterior is nothing to look at, being plain and heavy, but the interior is magnificent. From here I extended my walk to the Giardino Reale (Royal Gardens), then the Cathedral of Turin, Santa Giovanni Battista, which was erected in the latter part of the 15th century by Pintelli. In the chapel of St. Sudorio, just behind the high altar, is a small portion of linen cloth in a glass case. This is a valuable relic, for it is said to be a portion of the cloth in which the body of the Saviour was embalmed. This may, or may not, be true; belief in the matter is optional. One really gets so accustomed in Italy to seeing the bones of deceased saints, a bit of the true cross, a nail of it, and so on, that the probability is nine out of ten are sceptical.

CHAPTER II.

MILAN—THE CATHEDRAL—GALLERIA VITTORIO EMMANUELE—PIAZZA D’ARMI—PALAZZO DE BRERA—LAKE OF COMO BOLOGNA—ITS ANCIENT HISTORY—LEANING TOWERS—THE CERTOSA—TEATRO COMMUNALE—BRINDISI.

From Turin I went by train to Milan. I ought to have gone direct past Magenta, but by some mistake I found myself making quite a round-about journey, viâ Piacenza and Lodi; however, all’s well that ends well. I arrived at the hotel in Milan in time for table d’hôte. Now, although I am writing a book principally on travels and adventures in Egypt and the Soudan, I dare say my readers will excuse me if I attempt a description of my travels out and home. All the places I visited were extremely interesting to me, and I cannot forbear a little gossip and relating what I know respecting them. Those who have not visited these places will perhaps be pleased to read my description, and those who have will be able to compare notes and see if they are correct. I had been told that the best time to visit Il Duomo—the Cathedral—was at eight or nine o’clock in the morning, on account of the splendid view obtainable from the roof; this I did on the morning following my arrival, and was richly rewarded for my trouble. Il Duomo is certainly a magnificent structure, inferior in magnitude to St. Peter’s at Rome, but in some respects not an unworthy rival. It is built of white marble, and is one of the most impressive ecclesiastical edifices in the world. In its present form it was commenced in 1387, and is not yet entirely completed. Its form is that of a Latin cross, divided into five naves, terminated by an octagonal apsis, and supported by fifty-two octagonal pilasters of uniform size, except four, which, having to bear the cupola, are larger.

Around the exterior are 4,500 niches, of which above 3,000 are already occupied by statues. In the interior everything is of the most imposing and gorgeous description. I said everything, but I should except an image of wax of the Virgin Mary, with the infant Saviour in her arms. The waxen face and arms looked very dirty, her attire was very commonplace-looking stuff, and I did not think her rather dirty-looking neck was much improved by a bit of paltry-looking green ribbon encircling it. This image would certainly be more suitable at Madame Tussaud’s than in this beautiful cathedral. But I will finish with the exterior. The roof is a perfect forest of marble pinnacles, nearly all crammed with most valuable marble statues. The celebrated marble flower-bed contains several thousand flowers, each distinct and each different in design. I leave the roof and ascend the tower, from which I obtain a magnificent view of the Alpine range, Mont Blanc, Monte Rosa, the St. Bernard and Matterhorn right away to the Superga and Mont Cenis.

In the interior we notice the rich stained-glass windows of the choir, comprising about 350 subjects of Biblical history, the Gothic decorations of the sacristy, the candelabra in front of the altar shaped like a tree, and decorated with jewels, then the Chapel of St. Borromeo, which is a subterranean chapel of a most gorgeous and costly character, as it is one mass of jewels. The shrine and walls are silver, all inlaid with gold and precious stones. If I remember rightly, I paid a franc extra for my visit here, and had the gratification of seeing the embalmed body of St. Borromeo, with the valuable rings of office still on his fingers. A golden crown (presented by the unfortunate Maria Teresa) is suspended over his head, and a large crucifix of splendid emeralds lies on his chest—this, I am told, was given by the Empress of Austria.

Of course, in Milan, as in all large towns in Italy, there are any number of beautiful and remarkable churches. Among the most remarkable edifices are the church of Sant’ Ambrogio, founded by St. Ambrose in 387, the churches of Sant’ Eustargio, San Lorenzo, Santa Maria delle Grazie, with a cupola and sacristy by Bramante, and the celebrated Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci; Santa Maria della Passione, a majestic edifice, with excellent paintings and a magnificent mausoleum; San Paolo, San Carlo Borromeo, &c.

Immediately adjoining the Cathedral is a magnificent square, which was finished on the occasion of the Austrian Emperor’s visit to Milan in 1875. This is called the Piazza del Duomo. From this square I pass through the Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele, a very fine glass-roofed arcade, or gallery, connecting the Piazza del Duomo with the Scala Theatre; the cost of this was about £320,000. It was commenced in 1865 and opened in 1867. The glass canopy is illuminated by 2,000 jets of gas, and when these and the beautiful and brilliant shops are lighted the effect is charming. The length of this kind of covered street is 320 yards. La Scala Theatre was not open for performances when I was there, but by the judicious disposition of a franc or so I obtained admission just to see it. It is, I understand, capable of accommodating 3,600 spectators. I next strolled on to the Piazza d’Armi, which occupies an immense space, obtained by the demolition of the citadel and its outworks. Part of it has been converted into an amphitheatre, 800 feet long by 400 feet broad, used in summer for races and shows, and capable of containing 30,000 spectators. The castle, now a barrack, fronts the Piazza d’Armi on one side; at the opposite side is the Porta Sempione, with the fine Arco Sempione, or Arco della Pace. This is a lofty gateway, with three passages, built of blocks of white marble, adorned with reliefs and statues, and bearing inscriptions commemorating the emancipation of Italy. My next visit was to the Palazzo di Brera, or Delle Scienze Lettere ed Arte, containing the Pinacoteca, or picture-gallery, with a very valuable collection of paintings and statuary, and containing also the library of the Academy (170,000 volumes). Besides this library, Milan possesses the Ambrosian library, the earliest and still one of the most valuable public libraries in Europe. There is also a valuable museum of natural history, a conservatory of music, a military college, a theological seminary, and a veterinary school.

Though Milan is one of the most ancient towns in Lombardy, it has so often been partially destroyed and rebuilt that few antiquities remain. It is entered by eleven gates, several of which are magnificent. Its foundation is attributed to the Insubrian Gauls; but the first distinct notice of it occurs B.C. 221, when it was subdued by the Romans, under whom it acquired so much importance that in the division of the empire attributed to Constantine the Great it ranks as the second city of Italy. In the middle of the fifth century it was sacked by the Huns, under Attila, and again in the following century by the Goths; but greater horrors yet awaited it, for the Goths, who had been driven out by Belisarius, having regained possession by the aid of the Burgundians, gave it up to the flames, and put almost all its inhabitants to the sword. The most important manufactures are tobacco, silks, cottons, lace, carpets, hats, earthenware, white-lead, jewelry, and articles in gold and silver. The spinning and throwing of silk employs a large number of hands, and furnish the staple article of trade. The other principal articles are corn, rice, cheese, and wines.

In the evening of the second day (whilst engaged in the purchase of everything Milanese in the way of photographs) I met with a Milan gentleman, who had lived some years in America, and who could speak English remarkably well. He was a genial, good-hearted looking kind of fellow, and we soon got into an animated conversation. I was surprised to find how well up he was in English politics, and as for the Irish question, he could hold his own with any Englishman; he was, too, a great admirer of Lord Beaconsfield. When we had had about an hour’s chat I was about to return to my hotel; he then asked me how long I was going to remain in Milan. I told him I intended leaving next day for Bologna.

“Have you seen the lake of Como?” said he.

“No,” I replied. “I should like to do so very much, but fear I cannot spare the time, as I have to be at Brindisi on the 21st.”

“But you must not leave,” said he, “until you have been there; it is only a run of thirty miles to Como by rail. I live there. Come to-morrow and visit me, and I will put you in the way of seeing Bologna in half the time that you would do it in without assistance.”

This very kind offer I accepted, and spent next day a very agreeable time with my new acquaintance, who was most hospitable and friendly. We parted with mutual protestations of goodwill, and I took train for Bologna, which is several hours’ ride from Milan.

Bologna (anciently Bonovia) is one of the oldest, largest, and richest cities of Italy. It lies at the foot of the Apennines, between the Rivers Reno and Savena, 190 miles N.N.W. from Rome. It is five or six miles in circumference, and is surrounded by an unfortified wall of brick; it has extensive manufactures of silk goods, velvet, artificial flowers, &c. It struck me as being a quaint old city. All the houses, or nearly so, are built out over the shops and pavement, supported by large pillars, and forming a covered way nearly all over the city which affords shade and shelter to the foot-passengers.

Bologna was long renowned for its university, founded, according to tradition, by Theodosias, the younger, in 425, and restored by Charlemagne, which, in the centuries of barbarism, spread the light of knowledge all over Europe. It once had 10,000 students, but the number now averages only 300. The university formerly possessed so much influence, that even the coins of the city bore its motto—Bonovia docet. During 1400 years every new discovery in science and the arts found patrons here. The medical school is celebrated for having introduced the dissection of human bodies, and the scientific journals prove that the love of investigation is still awake in Bologna. The chief square in the city, Piazza Maggiore, the forum in the Middle Ages, is adorned by several venerable buildings. Among them are the Palazzo Pubblico, which contains some magnificent halls, adorned with statues and paintings; Palazzo del Padesta, chiefly remarkable as having been the prison of Eugenis, King of Sardinia, and son of the Emperor Frederick II. who was captured and kept here by the Bolognese for more than twenty years, till his death; and the church or Ansilica of St. Petronio, which was commenced in 1390, and is not yet finished. The palaces and churches are too numerous to make any remarks on. The leaning towers, Degli Asmilli and Garisenda, dating from the twelfth century, are among the most remarkable objects in Bologna. The former is square, and of massive brick-work, built in three portions, and diminishing in diameter to the top. Its height is 321 feet, and its inclination from the perpendicular 6ft. 10in. The Garisenda is 161 feet high, and inclines a little more than 8 feet. Bologna has always been famous for cheap living, and has been chosen as a residence by many literary men. Gourmands praise it as the native country of excellent maccaroni, sausages, liquors, and preserved fruits. The pilgrimage to the Madonna di S. Lucca, whose church is situated at the foot of the Apennines, half a league distant from Bologna, and to which an arcade of 640 arches leads, annually attracts a great number of people from all parts of Italy. Bologna was founded by the Etruscans under the name of Felsina, before the foundation of Rome. In 189 B.C. it was made a Roman colony, and called Bonovia.

I had been told that the Certosa, or burying ground, was well worth a visit. It is about 2½ miles outside the city by the Porta St. Isaia, so I took a cab and was well rewarded for my trouble, for this burying ground is the most beautiful and remarkable in Italy. Here we can walk for hours under cover between rows of statues and marble tablets of the greatest beauty. When I returned to my hotel I found dinner waiting, and afterwards it struck me that I must seek some more exhilarating mode of amusement after my visit to the Certosa. I accordingly made my way to the Teatro Communale, one of the three best theatres in Italy, San Carlos at Naples and La Scala in Milan taking precedence. The opera was “Mefistofele,” splendidly mounted and well supported by artistes. The orchestra was large and all that could be desired by the most fastidious critics, and there are plenty of them in a Bolognese audience. Boxes are in every tier in the house, and the effect is very pretty.

As I had to start for Brindisi at 3 a.m. on Sunday, November 20th, I had not much time for sleep, notwithstanding which I got between the sheets until then, when I was conveyed to the station and finished my nap in the train.

CHAPTER III.

P. AND O. STEAMER “TANJORE”—ARRIVAL OF THE MAIL AND PASSENGERS—ANCIENT BRINDISI—BRINDISI TO ALEXANDRIA— ALEXANDRIA PAST AND PRESENT—ITS TRADE.

I arrived at Brindisi at 10 p.m. and was straightway driven off to the quay, was soon on board the P. and O. steamship Tanjore, commanded by Captain Briscoe, and not many minutes afterwards in my berth and fast asleep. My slumber was disturbed at 6 a.m. by the arrival of the Indian mail and a large number of passengers, who produced a great commotion over-head quite incompatible with sleep. I therefore turned out, and was soon on deck watching the busy scene. Some little time after I had breakfasted I discovered two of the party which I was to accompany, Messrs. F. L. James and E. L. Phillipps. We were to meet three more at Cairo, and one at Suez, to complete the party.

No one would care to remain very long in Brindisi, as it is a most uninteresting place notwithstanding its antiquity. I remember once, in 1877, spending a few hours there, and was then very glad when my train left for Naples. Brindisi (ancient Brundusium) was, if I remember rightly, the birth-place of Virgil. It is a sea-port and fortified town 45 miles from Taranto. In ancient times it was one of the most important cities of Calabria. It is said by Strabo to have been governed by its own kings at the time of the foundation of Tarentum. It was one of the chief cities of the Sallentines, and the excellence of its port and commanding situation in the Adriatic were among the chief inducements of the Romans to attack them. The Romans made it a naval station, and frequently directed their operations from it. It was the scene of important operations in the war between Cæsar and Pompey. On the fall of the Western Empire it declined in importance. In the eleventh century it fell into the possession of the Normans, and became one of the chief ports of embarkation for the Crusades. Its importance as a sea-port was subsequently completely lost, and its harbour blocked. In 1870 the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company put on a weekly line of steamers between Brindisi and Alexandria for the conveyance of Her Majesty’s eastern mails, and at the same time made it a post of transit for goods brought from India by these steamers to be forwarded to the north of Italy by rail. From this cause the imports of Brindisi have suddenly risen in importance.

About 12 mid-day on the 21st November, we got under way with 110 first-class passengers on board, the weather was fine, much warmer than in Turin and Milan, and the sea smooth, which I was thankful for; 22nd the same; 23rd fine and sea smooth until about 4 p.m., when the sea became rough, and I very uncomfortable, undesirous of dinner and very desirous of being quietly settled in my berth, which I sought without loss of time, knowing by a past bitter and sour experience that I should ere long present a pitiable spectacle. During the night the sea became so rough that the port-holes of the cabins had to be closed, so that in addition to feeling excessively sick I was almost suffocated, as the weather was very warm. On the morning of the 24th, at 10 o’clock, we landed at the far-famed city of Alexandria.

Even in sunny Italy I had felt the weather, in the neighbourhood of Turin, Milan, and Bologna, cold and frosty enough in the morning for an overcoat. At Brindisi it was not so cold, but as we neared the African coast the sky grew warmer and warmer, and tinged, so to speak, with a reflection of the Libyan desert, a soft purple hue, rather than the deep blue of Italy. Only those who have witnessed sunset in Africa can form any conception of the beautiful tints reflected from the rocks and sands; there you see the soft purple, lovely crimson, pale gold, rose and violet colours all shading off into one another in the most charming manner. I have never seen anywhere such glorious sunsets as in Africa.

Having but a short time to stay in Alexandria, I made good use of it in exploring the place. Through what strange vicissitudes has this ancient city passed. Alexandria was founded by Alexander the Great, B.C. 332, on the site of a village called Rakôtis, or Racoudah. Its founder wished to make it the centre of commerce between the east and west, and we know how fully his aspirations have been realized. It stood a little to the south of the present town, was 15 miles in circumference, and had a population of 300,000 free inhabitants, and at least an equal number of slaves. So distinguished was it for its magnificence, that the Romans ranked it next to their own capital, and when captured by Amru, general of the Caliph Omar (A.D. 641), it contained 4,000 palaces, 4,000 baths, 400 theatres or places of amusement, 12,000 shops for the sale of vegetables, and 40,000 tributary Jews. But we are getting on a little too fast. As I said before, it was founded B.C. 332, by Alexander the Great, who is said to have traced the plan of the new city himself, and his architect, Dinarchus or Dinocrates (the builder of the temple of Diana at Ephesus) directed its execution. The city was regularly built, and traversed by two principal streets, each 100 feet wide, and one of them four miles long. Campbell says: “He designed the shape of the whole after that of a Macedonian cloak, and his soldiers strewed meal to mark the line where its walls were to rise. These, when finished, enclosed a compass of 80 furlongs filled with comfortable abodes, and interspersed with palaces, temples, and obelisks of marble porphyry, that fatigued the eye with admiration. The main streets crossed each other at right angles, from wall to wall, with beautiful breadth, and to the length (if it may be credited) of nearly nine miles. At their extremities the gates looked out on the gilded barges of the Nile, of fleets at sea under full sail, on a harbour that sheltered navies, and on a lighthouse that was the mariner’s star and the wonder of the world.”

One-fourth of the area upon which it was built was covered with temples, palaces, and public buildings. Conspicuous upon its little isle was the famous lighthouse of Pharos, the islet being connected with the city by a mole. Under the Cæsars, Alexandria attained extraordinary prosperity; large merchant fleets carried on a reciprocal commerce with India and Ethiopia, and its industrial population were chiefly employed in the weaving of linen, and the manufacture of glass and papyrus.

The Alexandrians were turbulent, and several times revolted under the Ptolemies and the Romans. Cæsar was obliged, in B.C. 47, to put down a terrible insurrection in this city. Under the emperors, Alexandria suffered a series of massacres, which gradually depopulated it. In 611, Chosroës, King of Persia, seized it, but his son restored it to the emperors. In 641, Amru—whom I spoke of just now—took it by storm, after a siege of 14 months, and a loss of 23,000 men. The Turks captured it in 868 and 1517.

So from time to time Alexandria has been the scene of the greatest splendour, adorned by marble palaces, temples, and obelisks, also of great squalor, and covered with mud huts; passing under the sway of Persian, Greek, Roman, and Turk, and at the time I am writing this (March, 1884) I think I may safely say under the sway of Great Britain, although not belonging to this country.

In the early part of this century, under the vigorous, but most unscrupulous, rule of Mehemet Ali (who was appointed Pasha of Alexandria, and afterwards of all Egypt), Alexandria became again a thriving and important place.

It is said that in the character of the population, at least, there still remains a strong resemblance to the ancient city of the Ptolemies. Sullen-looking Copts replace the exclusive old Egyptians, their reputed ancestors. Greeks and Jews, too, swarm as before, both possibly changed a little for the worse. The mass of Levantines and (with, of course, honourable exceptions) Franks, who make up the sum of the population, may, I think, without any exaggeration, be designated as the off-scourings of their respective countries. The streets swarm with Turks in many-coloured robes, half-naked, brown-skinned Arabs, glossy negroes in loose white dresses and vermilion turbans, sordid, shabby-looking Israelites in greasy black, smart, jaunty, rakish Greeks, heavy-browed Armenians, unkempt, unmasked Maltese ragamuffins, Albanians and Europeans of every shade of respectability, from lordly consuls down to refugee quacks, swindlers, and criminals, who here get whitewashed and established anew. Here you see a Frank lady in the last Parisian bonnet, there Egyptian women enveloped to the eyes in shapeless black wrappers, while dirty Christian monks, sallow Moslem dervishes, sore-eyed beggars, and naked children covered with flies, present a shifting and everlasting kaleidoscope of the most undignified phases of Eastern and Western existence.

The great square, or Grande Place, is the chief place of business and resort. It is a quarter of a mile long, and 150 feet wide, paved on each side, with a railed garden in the centre, planted with lime-trees, and having a fountain at each end. Here are the principal shops and hotels, the English consulate and church, banks, offices of companies, &c. The buildings are all in the Italian style, spacious and handsome, or, rather, were when I visited it. Most of the ancient landmarks are fast disappearing. The site of Cleopatra’s Palace is now occupied by a railway station for the line to Ramleh, seven miles distant, overlooking the bay of Abaukir, the scene of Nelson’s victory over the French fleet in 1798. Of course, I could not be in Alexandria without paying a visit to Pompey’s pillar, or, more properly, Diocletian’s pillar. It is a grand column, and occupies an eminence 1,800 feet to the south of the present walls; its total height is 98 feet 9 inches. It is a single block of red granite on the mounds overlooking the lake Mareotis and the modern city.

An account of the ancient and modern history of Alexandria would fill a volume of the most stirring interest. I, however, will be content with giving to my readers a very small portion of a volume on Alexandria, as I shall have a good deal yet to say on Cairo and neighbourhood, and still more to say on the Soudan.

It was to Alexandria that science, fostered by the munificence of the Ptolemies, retired from her ancient seat at Heliopolis. “The sages of the Museum, who lodged in that part of the palace of the Lagides, might there be said to live as the priests of the Muses, taking the word in its wide sense, as the patronesses of knowledge. They had gardens, and alleys, and galleries where they walked and conversed, a common hall where they made their repasts, and public rooms where they gave instruction to the youth who crowded from all parts of the world to hear their lectures.” This museum, a unique establishment in literary history, was founded by Ptolemy Soter, King of Egypt, who died B.C. 283, and was greatly enlarged by his son Ptolemy Philadelphus and the succeeding Ptolemies. In connection with the museum was the Alexandrian Library, the most famous and the largest collections of books in the world, and the glory of Alexandria. Demetrius Phalereus, after his banishment from Athens, is said to have been its first superintendent, when the number of volumes, or rolls, amounted to 50,000.

If the other Ptolemies were as unscrupulous in obtaining books as Energetes is said to have been, it is no wonder that the library increased in magnitude or value. We are told that he refused to sell corn to the Athenians during a famine unless he received in pledge the original manuscripts of Aschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. These were carefully copied, and the copies returned to the owners, while the King retained the originals. Various accounts are given of the number of books contained in the library at its most flourishing period, when Zenodotus, Callimachus, the poet Eratosthenes, of Cyrene, and Appolinius Rhodius were its librarians. Seneca states the number at 400,000; Aulus Gellius makes it 700,000. Some reconcile the discrepancy by making the statements refer to different periods, while others believe that the larger figure includes more than one collection. That there were more than one collection is known. The original, or Alexandrian library par excellence, was situated in the Brucheion, a quarter of the city in which the royal palace stood; and besides this there was a large collection in the Serapeion, or temple of Jupiter Serapis, but when or by whom this was founded we do not know. The former was accidentally burned during the Julius Cæsar’s siege of the city, but was replaced by the library of Pergamus, which was sent by Antony as a present to Cleopatra. The Serapeion library, which probably included the Pergamean collection, existed to the time of the Emperor Theodosius the Great. At the general destruction of the heathen temples, which took place under this emperor, the splendid temple of Jupiter Serapis was set upon and gutted (A.D. 391) by a fanatical crowd of Christians at the instigation of the Archbishop Theophilus, when its literary treasures were destroyed or scattered. The historian Orosius relates that in the beginning of the fifth century only the empty shelves were to be seen.

A valuable collection was again accumulated in Alexandria, but was doomed to suffer the same fate, being burned by the Arabs when they captured the city under the Caliph Omar in 641. Amru, the captain of the Caliph’s army, would have been willing to spare the library, but the fanatical Omar disposed of the matter in the famous words:—“If these writings of the Greeks agree with the Koran, there could be no need of them; if they disagree, they are pernicious, and ought to be destroyed;” and they were accordingly used for heating the 4,000 baths in the city. Just before the time of Mehemet Ali, Alexandria was a miserable place of a few thousand inhabitants, cut off from the valley of the Nile by the ruin of the ancient canal. Under his rule it greatly revived in political and commercial importance, and the re-opening of its canal has restored to its harbour all the trade of Egypt.

The principal articles of export are cotton, beans, peas, rice, wheat, barley, gums, flax, hides, lentils, linseed, mother-of-pearl, sesamum, senna, ostrich feathers, &c.

Those who are not given to pedestrian exercise can easily avail themselves of a cab or donkey, and they will find the streets, which are spacious and handsome, very pleasant to traverse, as they are all well paved in the city; but the dust outside the walls covers the ground from four to six inches deep, and in combination with the intense glare of the sun, and the wretched hovels of the natives, produces the ophthalmia so common, especially among the Arabs. Owing to the want of proper drainage, what would otherwise be a salubrious site is subject to malarious disease and the plague.

I have spoken of the Alexandrian library; quite as much may be said of the Alexandrian school; combined, they may be justly considered the first academy of arts and sciences.

The grammarians and poets are the most important among the scholars of Alexandria. These grammarians were philologists and literati, who explained things as well as words, and may be considered a sort of encyclopedists. Such were Zenodotus the Ephesian, who established the first grammar school in Alexandria; Eratosthenes, of Cyrene; Aristophanes, of Byzantium; Aristarchus, of Samothrace; Crates, of Mallus; Dionysius the Thracian; Appolonius the sophist; and Zoilus. To the poets belong Appolonius the Rhodian, Lycophron, Aratus, Nicander, Emphorion, Callimachus, Theocritus, Philetas, Phanocles, Timon the Philasian, Scymnus, Dionysius, and seven tragic poets, who were called Alexandrian Pleiads.

The most violent religious controversies disturbed the Alexandrian church until the orthodox tenets were established in it by Athanasius, in the controversy with the Arians.

Among the scholars are to be found great mathematicians, as Euclid, the father of scientific geometry, and whose work, I distinctly recollect, was a great bore to me in my younger days; Appolonius, of Perga, in Pamphylia, whose work on conic sections still exists; Nichomachus, the first scientific arithmetician; astronomers, who employed the Egyptian hieroglyphics for marking the northern hemisphere, and fixed the images and names (still in use) of the Constellations, who left astronomical writings (e.g., the Phœnomena of Aratus, a didactic poem; the Spherica of Menelaus; the anatomical works of Eratosthenes, and especially the Magna Syntaxis of the geographer Ptolemy), and made improvements in the theory of the calendar, which were afterwards adopted into the Julian calendar; natural philosophers, anatomists, as Herophilus and Erasistratus; physicians and surgeons, as Demosthenes Philalethes, who wrote the first work on diseases of the eye; Zopyrus and Cratenas, who improved the art of pharmacy and invented antidotes; instructors in the art of medicine, to whom Asclepiades, Loranus, and Galen owed their education; medical theorists and empirics, of the sect founded by Philinus. All these belonged to the numerous association of scholars continuing under the Roman dominion and favoured by the Roman emperors, which rendered Alexandria one of the most renowned and influential seats of science in antiquity. With this passing glance at Alexandria, we will journey on to Cairo.

CHAPTER IV.

THE FERTILIZING RIVERS OF EGYPT—LEAVE ALEXANDRIA—INCIDENTS EN ROUTE—SHEPHEARD’S HOTEL—ANCIENT AND MODERN CAIRO—THE DONKEY BOYS—ARAB PATIENTS—DANCING DERVISHES—THE HOUSE WHERE JOSEPH, MARY, AND THE INFANT SAVIOUR LIVED IN OLD CAIRO—THE BAULAC MUSEUM—THE PETRIFIED FOREST—MOKATTAM HILLS—TOMBS OF THE CALIPHS AND CITADEL—CAIRO AT SUNSET.

In former times, before the introduction of railways, the traveller to Cairo had to go by canal, hire a boat, servant; procure a carpet, mattress, and bedding; lay in a store of provisions, and a variety of minor articles that would fill a page or two to mention. Now we can go comfortably by rail in a few hours, the distance being something like 120 miles, I think.

We pass, en route, Lake Mareotis and the Mohmoudieh Canal, cultivated land near Alexandria, then a good deal uncultivated and desert; but as we approach Cairo, we see large tracts of cultivated land, all accomplished by irrigation, and I am told that as much as two or three crops in the year can be obtained off these lands without very great labour. A hot sun can always be depended on. The agricultural labourer has not to go through the laborious work of ploughing and manuring as in England. All he has to do is to scratch the ground, and put in the seed in the fertilizing alluvium which has been brought down from the rich lands of Meroe and portions of Abyssinia by the Athara river and its tributaries, the Salaam, Augrab, and the greater stream, Tacazze or Settite. All these rivers cut through a large area of deep soil, through which, in the course of ages, they have excavated valleys of great depth, and in some places of more than two miles in width. The contents of these enormous cuttings have been delivered upon the low lands of Egypt at the period of the inundations. The Athara is the greatest mud-carrier, then the Blue Nile, which effects a junction with the White Nile at Khartoum.

The White Nile is of lacustrine origin, and conveys no mud, but an excess of vegetable matter, suspended in the finest particles, and exhibiting beneath the microscope minute globules of green matter, which have the appearance of germs. When the two rivers meet at the Khartoum junction, the water of the Blue Nile, which contains lime, appears to coagulate the alluminous matter in that of the White Nile, which is then precipitated, and forms a deposit; after which the true Nile, formed by a combination of the two rivers, becomes wholesome, and remains comparatively clear, until it meets the muddy Athara. The Sobat river is a most important tributary, supposed to have its sources in the southern portion of the Galla country.

For the foregoing information on these rivers I am indebted to an article of Sir Samuel Baker’s, which I read with great interest in the Contemporary Review; and I daresay many of my readers will thank me for reproducing it.

After this slight digression, I will continue my journey to Cairo. At the stations were numbers of women and children with refreshments for the traveller in this land, where the sun always shines with a burning heat; women with goolehs of water to sell; children naked, or nearly so, with sugar-cane, melons, oranges, dates, fresh sugar-cane, figs, &c. Vast numbers of these poor creatures were afflicted with ophthalmia, their eyelids covered with flies, which they take no notice of whatever, many of them blind, or partially so, blind beggars; one and all, whether they can sell anything or not, continually uttering the cry of “Backsheesh, backsheesh, howaga,” which comes faintly on my ears as the train leaves the station. As we journey on there is much to be noticed. Now we pass a camp of Bedouins in the desert; next a large grove of date-palms (the owner of which has to pay a tax on every tree). Here the domestic buffalo walks round and round a circle; he is working the sakia or water-wheel, which winds up the water for irrigation. This is also taxed. Scattered all over the country are innumerable shadoofs, another mode, and the most ancient, of obtaining water; there the stately-looking camel strides along, looking intensely unconcerned. Trotting past him on his little donkey is an Arab in loose, white, flowing robes, and turbaned head. At one time we pass squalid, wretched-looking mud-huts; anon Nubians, as black as coal, working in the fields. We arrived at Cairo in the evening about seven, and were at once driven off to the well-knewn Shepheard’s Hotel. The cuisine is all that could be desired, and every attention is paid to insure the comfort of visitors. Mr. Grose, the manager, is a particularly obliging and attentive gentleman.

Cairo (in Arabic, Kahira, which signifies victorious) is the capital city of Egypt. It lies on the east bank of the Nile, in a sandy plain, and contains old Cairo, Boulac (the harbour), and new Cairo, which are, to a considerable degree, distinct from each other. The city itself, separate from the gardens and plantations which surround it, is about 10 miles in circuit, has 31 gates, and 240 irregular unpaved streets, which during the night are, or were, closed at the end of the quarter, to prevent disturbances. The houses are for the most part built of brick, with flat roofs, and the interior of many of them is very sumptuous. The chief square of Cairo, El-Esbekiah, has a magnificent area, the centre of which is laid out as a garden, and is annually inundated by the overflowing of the Nile. It is surrounded by the finest palaces. There is in it a monument to General Kleber. The inhabitants of the city and suburbs, in 1871 353,851, are Arabs or Mahomedans, Coptish Christians, Mamelukes, Greeks, Syrians, Armenians, Jews, and natives of various countries of Europe. The castle, or citadel, situated on a rock, containing Joseph’s Well, 276 feet deep, is the residence of the Pasha. There are 80 public baths, 400 mosques, two Greek, 12 Coptish, one Armenian, and one English church, 36 synagogues, and many silk, camlet, tapestry, gunpowder, leather, linen, and cotton factories. Among the mosques, which, though many of them are in ruins, form the most conspicuous edifices of the city, the most remarkable is that of Sultan Hassan, which is built of blocks of polished marble, obtained from the outer casing of the pyramids, or pyramid rather, for, if my memory serves me right, they are from the great pyramid of Cheops at Gizeh. It has a beautifully ornamented porch, richly corniced walls, and many tall minarets. Here is also a Mahomedan high school, a printing office and 25,000 volumes. The largest convent of dervishes is at Cairo. It was built in 1174. The traffic of Cairo is very great, since it is the centre of communication between Europe, the Mediterranean Sea, Asia, and the North of Africa, and is upon the railway from Alexandria to Suez. The principal bazaars are the Ghoreah and Khan Khalel. Goods are disposed of there by public auction, and the different bazaars exhibit different kinds of merchandise. Ibrahim Pasha commenced a public library in 1830, and in 1842 a European Society, called the Egyptian Literary Association, was established. Mehemet Ali introduced schools for elementary education, and the Church of England Missionary Society has two schools.

Cairo was founded by Jauhar, general of the Caliph Moez, in the year of the Hegira 368, or A.D. 969, on the site of the Egyptian Babylon. Moez afterwards made it his capital, which distinction it retained until the overthrow of the Mamelukes by Sultan Selim in 1517. Saladin extended and fortified it in 1176. It was repeatedly attacked by the Crusaders, particularly by St. Louis in 1249. It was occupied by the French from 1798 to 1801, when it was recovered by the Turks with the assistance of the English. A great fire occurred there in February, 1863; advantage was taken of it to improve the town.

Our military occupation of Egypt (or shall I say that it is simply a “measure of police?”), and events that are now transpiring there, are a sufficient excuse (if one were required) for dealing shortly with the ancient history of Cairo and the neighbourhood.

Soon after our arrival at Shepheard’s Hotel, when we had restored ourselves to our personal comfort, our host provided us with a good dinner, to which we did ample justice, and as the weather (although the end of November) was like a summer’s evening in England, we enjoyed the usual after-dinner cigarettes in the balcony, which is a very pleasant lounge, even in the day time, as it is quite sheltered from the blazing sun. I soon strolled off to bed with the idea of obtaining a good night’s rest, so that I should awake refreshed and fit for a pilgrimage to the various shrines of intense interest with which Cairo and its neighbourhood abounds. I have visited and seen all that was interesting in Rome, once the mistress of the world—Corinth, once the seat of learning and the abode of a most polished people; Ephesus; have stood on the ancient Acropolis of Athens, the plains of Troy, celebrated by Virgil; explored Misenum, Pateoli, Baiæ, Pompeii, and Herculaneum, all rich in historical associations; but compared with the remains of ancient cities near Cairo these places were of yesterday’s growth, and were not even thought of until ages after the glory and high civilization of the people in the land of the Pharaohs had passed away. When Abraham entered the Delta from Canaan with his countrymen, moving about in tents and waggons, the Egyptians were living in cities enjoying all the advantages of a settled government and established laws; had already cultivated agriculture, parcelled out their valley into farms, and reverenced a landmark as a god.

While Abraham knew of no property but herds and movables, they had invented records and wrote their kings’ names and actions on the massive temples which they raised. They had invented hieroglyphics and improved them into syllabic writing, and almost into an alphabet. The history of Greece begins with the Trojan war, but before the time of David and before the time of the Trojan war, the power and glory of Thebes had already passed away. About 1,000 years B.C. Shishak the conqueror of Rehoboam, son of Solomon, governed all Egypt; at his death it was torn to pieces by civil wars. After a time the kings of Ethiopia reigned in Thebes, and helped the Israelites to fight against their Assyrian masters. This unsettled state of things lasted nearly 300 years, during which, as the Prophet Isaiah foretold, “Egyptians fought against Egyptians, brother against brother, city against city, and kingdom against kingdom.” At last the city of Sais put an end to this state of things and under the Sais kings Egypt enjoyed again a high degree of prosperity. They were more despotic than the kings of Thebes, and struggled with the Babylonians for the dominion of Judæa.

Probably many of my readers are aware that M. Ferdinand de Lesseps was not the originator of a canal to the Red Sea, for Pharaoh Necho, one of the Sais kings, began it from the Nile. His sailors, circumnavigated Africa; he conquered Jerusalem, and when the Chaldees afterwards drove back the Egyptian army the remnant of Judah, with the Prophet Jeremiah, retreated into Egypt to seek a refuge with King Hophra.

523 B.C. the Persians became masters of Egypt, and behaved with great tyranny. Cambyses plundered the tombs and temples, broke the statues, and scourged the priests. They ruled for 200 years; then the Greeks, B.C. 332, the Romans, B.C. 30, and on the division of the Roman Empire, A.D. 337, Egypt fell to the lot of Constantinople. In A.D. 640, just 670 years after the Roman conquest, Egypt was conquered by the followers of Mahomet, and now, in this year of grace, A.D. 1884, we are rather upsetting the late order of things, but whether for good or evil time will show.

In this age of progress, it may seem strange to say so, but Egyptian landlords had much the same tastes 3,000 years ago as English landlords have now. They were much addicted to field-sports. Not only does history tell us so, but I have seen often in their sculptures and paintings that this was so. Even on the tomb and chapel of King Phty at Sakkara, which is said to be over 5,000 years old, I saw scenes of fowling, fishing, hunting, running down the gazelle, spearing the hippopotamus, of coursing and netting hares, of shooting wild cattle with arrows, and catching them with the lasso. They had fish ponds, game preserves, and game laws, they were fond of horses and dogs, kept good tables, gave morning and evening parties, amused themselves with games of skill and chance, were proud of their ancestors, built fine houses and furnished them handsomely, and paid great attention to horticulture and arboriculture.

This certainly reads like contemporary history; but I will go further. To use a well-known expression, “would you be surprised to hear” that the tenants paid the same proportionate rent as the British farmer of to-day? The average gross produce of a farm here was £8 an acre, average rent about 32s. an acre—just one-fifth—the exact rent paid by the tenants of Potiphar, Captain of the Guard, and of Potipherah, Priest of On, Joseph’s father-in-law, and the same was paid to Pharaoh himself by his tenants. At that time the whole acreage of the country was divided into rectangular estates. One-third belonged to the king, two-thirds in equal proportions to the priestly and military castes; and these were cultivated by another order of men, who, for the use of the land, paid rent—one-fifth of the gross produce—to the owner.

Altogether I spent nearly a fortnight in Cairo, and feeling a great interest in the historical associations of this ancient place and the neighbourhood, I resolved to see and learn as much as I could of them during my short stay. In the morning, after early breakfast, I amused myself for a short time by sitting in the shade of the extensive balcony in front of Shepheard’s Hotel, which overlooks the street, and is contiguous to it. The scene which presented itself to my gaze was truly Oriental in character. Now I see a few camels stalking silently, slowly, and sedately on, variously laden—some with baskets of large stones for building purposes, others with long pieces of timber on each side, others with skins of water and so on; then an Arab lady on donkey-back, riding after the manner of men, and covered from head to foot in unsightly black wrappers, having just a slit in them, through which can be seen a large pair of lustrous dark eyes, and down the bridge of her nose are some brass-looking ornaments, resembling as much as anything a row of thimbles inserted in one another. A Turkish lady’s dress and yashmack (covering worn over the face) is much more becoming, and her nose is not ornamented by the addition of the thimble arrangement. The Turkish ladies wear (in Constantinople) quite a thin white muslin yashmack over their faces. This does not conceal very much of the features, which, as a rule, are very beautiful. The Egyptian ladies wear a black yashmack, which conceals all except the eyes. Report says they are ugly; if so, they are quite right to do so. Next I see a carriage driven along preceded by two sais, or runners, to clear the way, and it is surprising what a pace they go at with a long, swinging trot. They are picturesquely and gorgeously dressed, each bearing a long wand, and wearing a tarboosh (Turkish fez), the long thick blue tassel of which floats gracefully over the shoulders, and not at all unlike what some of the ladies in Athens wear, except that their tassels are black. Then we see blind, or partially blind, beggars, of whom there are vast numbers, Coptic and Mahomedan women and children, girls with baskets of flowers and lovely roses, sweet-meat, fly-whisp, water, and fruit-sellers, conjurers, snake-charmers, one and all soliciting “backsheesh,” dusky, brown-skinned Arabs clad in loose-flowing robes and white turbans, coal-black Nubians, Jews, Greeks, Armenians, and Europeans of all shades of colour, religion, and politics. Here, in fact, in this city of Saladin and of the “Arabian Nights Entertainments” creations (which once seemed to be so fanciful and visionary) kindle into life and reality as I look upon everything around me.

The apartments of an Arab house of the well-to-do are decorated with Arabesque lattices, instead of glass windows. Inside are luxurious divans heaped with soft cushions, instead of sofas and chairs; and instead of the rattling of cabs, carts, and tramcars we hear the wild, shrill, trilling note of the Arabian women indicating some occasion of joy or sorrow, or hear the equally peculiar long drawn-out note of the muezzin from some minaret calling the faithful to prayer.

Very near to our hotel, on the opposite side, are always to be found a number of donkeys ready for hire, and very good little donkeys they are. I can see the head, legs, and tail of a donkey; the remaining portion of him is almost concealed by a great padded saddle, to which is attached a very inconvenient pair of stirrups, into which you may get the tips of your toes, and sometimes a portion of the foot, but if the foot is not small, or is so unfortunate as to possess a respectably-sized bunion, you must be content if you can get the tips of your toes only in the stirrup; this, again, slips down to the right or left, according as you put more pressure on one side or the other. There are no girths, but one long strap placed around the saddle and donkey very insecurely fixes the former. If my reader has not been accustomed to circus-riding, I assure him he would experience some difficulty at first in exhibiting his powers of equitation before the Egyptian public under these circumstances, and I have seen more than one individual come into ignominious contact with mother earth; fortunately he has not far to go ere he humbles and tumbles himself in the dust.

My first experience was this: as soon as I was seated and had rammed the tip of my boot into the stirrup, the donkey-boy shouts, “Ha—ha.” This warning note the donkey knows full well, and off he goes at a kind of running trot, which is all right. Soon these ha-ha’s increase in frequency, and ere long I can fancy myself a second Mezeppa. The imp behind now accompanies his peculiar yell with a sharp prog of a pointed stick, and the donkey takes a very pointed cognisance of it, for now “He urges on his wild career.” In the wide, open streets this rapid mode of progression has an exhilarating tendency, but in the narrow streets of the bazaars unguarded human beings fly to the right of me, unguarded human beings fly to the left of me, and imprecations, not loud, but deep, in an unknown tongue, fall on my untutored ear as my donkey indiscriminately cannons on to the unobservant. A few words about these donkeys, and donkey-boys so called. Most of the latter are not boys at all, but full-grown men, notwithstanding which they are always called donkey-boys. These and their donkeys are quite an institution in the East. The donkeys own all kinds of popular English names, and of course (if the owner may be believed) are possessed of every good quality. Most of the donkey-boys have picked up more or less English, and in expatiating on the good qualities of their beasts are accustomed to interlard their speech with the strong language of the West, and you would be surprised to hear how promptly they will consign a fellow donkey-boy to an inhospitable and much-warmer region than Cairo, and to the care of a much blacker individual than themselves. The reader is here called upon to exercise his or her imagination. I had myself derived considerable amusement when watching an intending pilgrim securing one of these donkeys. To be forewarned is to be forearmed; I flattered myself that by making my selection sure before I got amongst them, my tactics would be most successful, but as the sequel will show, I was grossly deceived, having reckoned without my host, or hosts I ought to say. First intending pilgrim. He descends the steps of Shepheard’s Hotel, and moves towards the donkeys—a fatal movement. Instantly the air is thick with donkeys and donkey-boys. The latter yell frantically a chorus of praises concerning the useful quadrupeds, which are most adroitly and with surprising dexterity brought one after the other under his very nose, whilst the poor victim is jostled about in the most bewildering and unpleasant manner. I have been both a spectator of and an actor in this performance, and I can safely say the spectator derives by far the greatest amusement.

I resolved to pay a visit to the bazaars and some of the mosques of note. Having, as I thought, gained some experience by observing the misfortunes of others, I executed a strategic movement which I fondly imagined would turn out successful. I had, from a distance selected my donkey; then cunningly walked up and down the pavement smoking a cigarette, apparently with no object in view. Suddenly I darted on to the enemy, but alas! I found myself in an absolute whirlwind of donkeys and their troublesome two-legged attendants, who yelled into my ears and bumped me about until I was quite unable to recognise the donkey I had selected. Beauties were here represented, such as Mrs. Cornwallis West, and Mrs. Langtry; national names, such as John Bull, and Yankee-doodle; mythical names, such as Jim Crow and Billy Barlow. One donkey rejoiced in the name of Dr. Tanner, another in that of Madame Rachel; others, again, had been honoured with the names of statesmen, such as Prince Bismarck, John Bright, Sir Stafford Northcote, Lord Randolph Churchill, Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Parnell, Lord Beaconsfield, and others. “Dr. Tanner, he debbil to go—he berry good donkey indeed, hakeem,” said the owner. However, I declined him, as he was said to be a FAST one (excuse the joke), and as this was entirely an Eastern question, I could not help thinking that Lord Beaconsfield would certainly be the most likely to carry me safely through. I therefore selected him, and had every reason to be satisfied with him and his secretary, Lord Rowton alias Ibrahim, the donkey-boy, whom I employed on several subsequent occasions. He proved a very good conductor, for he took me through the various bazaars, Tunis, Algiers, Turkish, Persian, and Arab, &c., pointing out all places of note and interest en route. Ibrahim soon got to know that I was a doctor, and so indeed did all the attendant Arabs about the hotel. He, like hundreds of his countrymen, suffered from ophthalmia, and when I was out with him he said—

“Hakeem, what I do with my eyes? They very bad sometimes.”

“Oh!” said I, “you bring me a bottle to-morrow morning, and I will give you something for them,” little thinking of the consequences. The lotion did his eyes a great deal of good, and two days afterwards a great many of his friends called, to all of whom I gave lotion. During my stay here, and some months afterwards on returning from the Soudan, I was, every morning, employed after breakfast at my medicine chest preparing eye lotions for my Arab friends, invocations for the blessings of Allah being my recompense. The poor fellows appeared to be grateful, and I dare say it was genuine, not like a canting old Irish vagrant woman, who, if you give a hunk of bread and cheese to, will exclaim—

“Thank yer honour kindly!” and as long as she is in hearing keep muttering, “Och! sure now, there’s a kind jintleman for ye, me darlint. Sure now he is intirely an illigant jintleman; only for him I would not have a bite this morning, that’s sure for ye. May Heaven guide him and the blessed Virgin protect him!” Then out of hearing it is, “Och! the dirty spalpeen! What will I do wid this? May the curse of Cromwell light on ye for a murthering Sassenach. What will I do honey? and I not had a sup of gin this blessed day to keep the cowld out of me poor thrimbling ould body!”

But I am digressing. One day I took a donkey ride to old Cairo, and with others from the hotel visited the dancing dervishes, and the house said to have been inhabited by our Saviour. Old Cairo is about two miles distant from Grand Cairo. It was at old Cairo that the child Jesus, with Joseph and Mary, lived for a time, having fled from the bloody, persecuting Herod. The place said to have been His exile home is now a small Greek church. The steps to the room are very much worn, but great care is taken of every part of it; silver lamps, hung from the ceiling, are burning night and day, and no one is allowed to enter without the presence of a Greek priest. It certainly is not difficult to believe that, considering the mild Syrian atmosphere, and the absence of rain, the building may be much more than 1,800 years old.

The dancing dervishes next engaged our attention. When in Constantinople I visited the dancing dervishes at Pera and the howling dervishes on the other side of the Bosphorus at Scutari. The dancing dervishes wear a dress of greyish material, which reaches a little below the knee, and is confined by a girdle round the waist. When they spin round like Teetotums this looks like an open umbrella. The head is covered by a curious-looking, tall, conical felt hat without any brim.

The word itself, Dervish, or Dervise, is of Persian origin, and signifies poor. It denotes the same amongst Mahomedans as monk with Christians. The observance of strict forms, fasting and acts of piety, give them a character of sanctity amongst the people. They live partly together in monasteries partly alone, and from their number the Imams (priests) are generally chosen. Throughout Turkey they are freely received, even at the tables of persons of the highest rank. Among the Hindus they are called fakirs. There are throughout Asia multitudes of these devotees, monastic and ascetic, not only among the Mahomedans, but also among the followers of Brahma. There are no less than thirty-two religious orders now existing in the Turkish Empire, many of whom are scarcely known beyond its limits; but others, such as the Nakshbendies and Mevlevies, are common in Persia and India. All these communities are properly stationary, though some of them send out a portion of their members to collect alms. The regularly itinerant dervishes in Turkey are all foreigners or outcasts, who, though expelled from their orders for misconduct, find their profession too agreeable and profitable to be abandoned, and therefore set up for themselves, and, under colour of sanctity, fleece honest people. All these orders, except the Nakshbendies are considered as living in seclusion from the world; but that order is composed entirely of persons who, without quitting the world, bind themselves to a strict observance of certain forms of devotion, and meet once a week to perform them together. Each order has its peculiar statutes, exercises, and habits. Most of them impose a novitiate, the length of which depends upon the spiritual state of the candidate, who is sometimes kept for a whole year under this kind of discipline. In the order of the Mevlevies, the novice perfects his spiritual knowledge in the kitchen of the convent. The numerous orders of dervishes are all divided into two great classes, the dancing and the howling dervishes. The former are the Mevlevies, and are held in much higher estimation than the other class, and are the wealthiest of all the religious bodies of the Turkish Empire. Their principal monastery is at Konieh, but they have another at Pera, a suburb of Constantinople, where they may be seen engaged in their exercises every Wednesday and Thursday. These are performed in a round chamber, in the centre of which sits their chief or sheik, the hem of whose garment each dervish reverently kisses on entering the chamber, after which they go and range themselves round the chamber with their legs tucked under them. When all the dervishes have entered and saluted the sheik, they all rise together and go in procession three times round the room, the sheik at their head. Each time they do obeisance to the empty seat of the sheik on coming to a certain part of the room. The procession ended, the sheik again takes his place in the centre, and all the others begin dancing round him, turning on themselves at the same time that they move round the room. The arms are extended, the palm of the right turned upward and the palm of the left downward, to indicate that what they receive from heaven with the right they give away to the poor with the left, while sounds of music are heard from a neighbouring gallery. The movement at first is slow, but as the dervishes become excited they become more animated, and revolve so quickly that they look like tops spinning round; at last they sink exhausted on the floor. After a while they renew their exertions, and repeat it several times. The whole is concluded by a sermon.

The howling dervishes do not confine themselves in their exercises to the dancing just described. They accompany them with loud vociferations of the name of Allah, and violent contortions of the body such as are seen in persons seized with epileptic fits. And even these extravagances are not so bad as those which were formerly practised, when the dervishes, after working themselves into a frenzy, used to cut and torture themselves in various ways with apparent delight. The sheiks of all orders have the credit of possessing miraculous powers. The interpretation of dreams, the cure of diseases, and the removal of barrenness, are the gifts for which the dervishes are most in repute. Had I to live in such a hot climate as Cairo, I should feel thankful that our religion does not necessitate such violent bodily exertion as that which these dervishes indulge in. The road to old Cairo was very, very dusty, and the weather excessively hot, as it always is in the day time. We left the dancing dervishes after remaining about half-an-hour, and rode back to our hotel in the afternoon too late for any further explorations that day. On the following day I spent some hours in a very enjoyable and also instructive manner, namely in inspecting the priceless articles in the Baulac Museum. This museum, I suppose, contains some of the most ancient things in this world, and I regret very much that I could not devote a week to inspecting the contents of it instead of a few hours. I should have seen the treasures contained here, and known very little concerning them (as there was no catalogue), had I not been so fortunate as to get into conversation with Brusch Bey, the curator, a most intelligent and obliging gentleman, whose heart is enthusiastically in his work. He was kind enough to spend about two or three hours with me and enlighten me on very many things which would have been a sealed book to me but for him. There lay before us one grand discovery of 32 kings and queens, who had ruled Egypt in the dim distant ages long ago. The gilding on the inner coffins was as perfect and untarnished as it was the week they were executed, although thousands of years have rolled by since the handy craftsman was engaged on them. They were covered with information that none but an Egyptologist could decipher. In this museum was pointed out to me a picture said to be the most ancient in the world, it was a painted picture of Egyptian geese, as well done, I should imagine, as any ordinary painter of the present day could do it. There were bronzes and polished marble statuary as perfect in appearance as when they left the workmen’s hands, and, as far as I could judge, as well finished as they would be by workmen of the present day, although 2,000 or 3,000 years old. An ingenious and strong little cabinet engaged my attention some time; the doors of hard wood were well carved and the joints as exquisitely dove-tailed in as any man of the present day could make them. In a glass case I saw basket-work, a chair, rope, twine, seals, rings, javelins, slings, food and seeds as they were found in an ancient tomb, the mason’s mallet cut out of a solid piece of wood, precisely the same shape and size as those in use here at the present time, jewellery well-finished and solid-looking, and many other things too numerous to mention. On carefully examining this valuable and interesting collection, some of which were 3,000, 4,000, or 5,000 years old, I could not help thinking that they served well to illustrate the highly civilized condition of the people at so remote a period.

To give details of all the interesting things in this museum would occupy too much time to the exclusion of other matter, but there are two things that call for notice on account of their very great antiquity. One is a wooden statue, which has been carved out of a solid block of very hard wood, and is that of a man about 5ft. 7in. in height. As one stands in front of that wooden statue gazing for a short time, he almost appears to be endowed with a soul and the power of speech, so excellent is the execution of the figure, and so expressive the face; no one can doubt for a moment that he was the creation of a high civilization. It was found in a tomb at Sakhara and belongs to one of the early dynasties of the old primæval monarchy, and is absolutely untarnished by the thousands of years it has been reposing in that tomb; there is actually no sign of decay. The antiquity of that statue astonishes me, and I dare say it will my readers. Brusch Bey told me that it was supposed to be 5,400 years old, and that probably it was older than that. The other statue, that of Chephren, the builder of the second Pyramid, with his name inscribed upon it, is in Diorite, one of the hardest kind of stones, carefully executed and beautifully polished. These Egyptians were evidently people of considerable forethought, and when they wanted their names and deeds to live long after them engraved on tablets of stone, they selected the most durable they could, and it is more than probable that had they contemplated building such houses of Parliament as we have built in London, they would have selected a hard, not a soft stone, that continually requires patching up. Well, the features of Chephren’s statue are uninjured, and Brusch Bey and I gazed on them just as they were seen by Chephren and his court 5,000 years ago. It was discovered by Mariette Bey, at the bottom of a well, which supplied the water used for sacred purposes in the sepulchral temple attached to Chephren’s Pyramid. It was no doubt originally erected in the temple, and was probably thrown into the well by the barbarous Hyksos or iconoclastic Persians.

During the late military operations, or “police measures,” grave apprehensions for the safety of the Baulac Museum arose, but fortunately it escaped the violence of the mob. The greater part of one day was occupied by a visit with my familiar Ibrahim to the mosques of note, the citadel, tombs of the Caliphs and Mamelukes. Another day I got a companion from the hotel to accompany me to the petrified forest, some miles out in the desert. It covers an area of about 15 miles. All this space is pretty thickly strewed over with what appears to be trunks and branches of trees. I took hold of what appeared exactly like the wooden branch of a tree, and so it had once been, but for ages it had lain here, a solid piece of very hard stone. The place is an absolutely desolate one in the desert, with not a sign of vegetation in sight. Whether these had been washed here during the flood or had once grown in the neighbourhood or not, or how they came there, I never could ascertain, although I have sought for information on the subject in all directions. No one seems to be able to tell me anything about the origin of this petrified forest, and I have not hitherto found a book containing any allusion to it. We returned to Cairo by the Mokhottam hills behind the citadel somewhat late in the afternoon, consequently had to urge on our donkeys so that we should see Cairo by sunset. We were here just in time to do so, as there is scarcely any twilight in the East; the transition from day to night does not occupy very many minutes. The picturesque panorama that opened out to our view well repaid us for our trouble. There before and beneath us lay Cairo with its innumerable mosques and minarets, the Nile with the peculiar Nile boats called dahabeahs floating peacefully on its surface. Here and there the stately camel strides silently on, veiled women and turbaned Arabs in loose flowing robes, groves of palm trees, while nearer to us we see the half-ruined tombs of the Caliphs and Mamelukes, the citadel and the beautiful mosque of Mehemet Ali full of carved columns of alabaster. To the late burning heat which we encountered in the desert succeeds a soft, balmy, dry air, and the beautiful and varied hues of the setting sun is reflected from the glittering mosques and minarets, rocks and sands, presenting a picture which will not soon fade from my memory, and which requires the poetry, eloquence, and pen of a Byron to adequately describe. In striking contrast to the beautiful scene we had just enjoyed was the wretched-looking houses of the Arabs, the squalor, dirt and miserable pathways on the hill-side which we encountered immediately afterwards as we pursued our homeward journey.

CHAPTER V.

A YOUNG AMERICAN AT SHEPHEARD’S HOTEL—DRIVE TO THE PYRAMIDS OF GIZEH—ASCENT AND EXPLORATION OF THE PYRAMID OF CHEOPS—THE SPHINX.

We arrived at our hotel rather tired, and felt it quite a relief to stretch our legs out straight after having them cramped up so long whilst on our donkeys. Having partaken of a good dinner, I adjourned to the balcony with a cigarette, sank into an easy lounge, and communed with my own thoughts. I had not been here long before I discovered sitting near me an individual, apparently about 23 years of age, whose nether extremities rested on the back of a chair, his feet being parallel with his chin. He was dressed in a somewhat outré manner, the lower limbs being encased in check prolongations; the body in a brown coat, something like a sack in shape; the throat was surrounded by a loose, turn-down collar, and loose neckerchief, whilst the summit of this curious specimen of humanity was crowned by a huge felt hat, with an enormous brim. The clouds of smoke which he emitted from his mouth rivalled a young volcano; he was smoking a cigar, and did not forget to expectorate in a most profuse and dangerous manner, so much so that, feeling in somewhat dangerous proximity to the fire of his artillery, I got up with the intention of escaping any little salivary accidents; but my silent companion had his eye on me, and thus suddenly addressed me in the decidedly nasal accent and twang peculiar to the inhabitants of America—

“Stranger, I guess this Cairo is a tarnation rummy place?”

Seeing no reason to dispute this by no means rash assertion, I readily conceded the point; and, by way of carrying on the conversation, ventured to remark that—

“It certainly is a very curious and interesting old place, and the inhabitants no less so.”

He: “That’s so, sirree; they are queer beggars, and so are their wimen.”

This also was an indisputable fact, and I acknowledged that they were a strange race, strongly wedded to old customs, and as strongly opposed to innovations.

He: “Stranger, yew don’t roost here, I guess?”

I: “No; I am just travelling for a few months, and shall leave Cairo in two or three days’ time.”

He: “In what line may you be travelling, stranger?”

Now, of course I knew what he meant, but thought his remarks were so original, not to say impertinent, that I must not omit this opportunity of extracting some amusement, and provide material for my diary. I therefore replied—

“Oh! I came by the P. and O. line to Alexandria, by rail here, and now my lines have fallen in pleasant places.”

“Guess yew don’t quite fathom me. What’s yer business, and where are you going tew?” said he.

I then gave him the names of a number of places in Egypt and the Soudan, enumerating them as rapidly as I could, so that I am quite sure my nasal friend was very little the wiser for the information.

He enshrouded himself in a huge cloud of smoke, vigorously expectorated once more, and regarding me fixedly for a moment, exclaimed—

“By Jupiter! stranger, that’s a large order. Opening up a trade or colonize, I guess.”

I suppose, because I told him I was travelling with six other gentlemen, he thought we were going to start a colony somewhere, and then annex all the adjacent country, which, by the way, would certainly be a very good thing for the Egyptians and the Soudanese, and very probably for ourselves also. However, I gave him to understand that we were simply travelling for pleasure, exploration, and sport. Notwithstanding this, my Yankee acquaintance was determined to turn me inside out if he could; he, therefore, was so complimentary as to say—

“Well, now, I guess you are a gentleman?”

To this I answered—

“Thanks; I trust your surmise is a correct one;” and I might have said, but I did not, “Sorry I cannot return the compliment.”

I have often heard of the pertinacity of an American reporter, but it appears to me that the bump of inquisitiveness is not by any means confined to them, but pervades the whole community. There was no shilly-shallying, no delicate, nicely-worded hints and adroitly-put questions; but my interrogator was determined to find out all about me if he could, and so he asked me how long I had been in Cairo, how old I was, if I was married or single, how many children I had, if I lived on my money, and lots of the most impertinent questions, and finally finished up by saying, “Guess you are a Britisher?”

Having, as he thought, pumped me pretty considerably, he was good enough to take me into his confidence, and tell me all about himself, and his belongings, and “hew his father had left him a pile,” adding, “Guess I spend some, and move about a bit.” I could not help saying—

“I think you are wise to pursue that course; travel will improve you a good deal, and, like the marble statuary in the Baulac Museum, it will put on a little polish.”

He eulogised the States and the inhabitants thereof, and was apparently under the impression that America was the only place worth speaking of, winding up with the quite unnecessary announcement—

“I’m ’Merican.”

“Oh, yes,” I replied; “I knew at once you were an American.”

“Yes; is that so?” said he. “Hew did ye know that, stranger?”

“Well,” said I, “by your accent, the estimate you form of your country, and, pardon me for saying so, but no one but an American would have asked me such questions as you have, or manifested such a desire to find out all about me and my affairs.”

He did not appear to be at all annoyed at this remark, but merely said—

“By thunder! stranger, you are a queer coon. Will you come and liquor?”

I declined with thanks, and left young America to ponder over the inscrutable ways and manners of the “darned Britisher.” He was evidently the offspring of a parent who, perchance, had “struck ile,” and had never before forsaken his ancestral home in search of travel and adventure; and, if such was the case, we must excuse the young man. As soon as I left him I sought my bedroom, chronicled the above conversation in my diary, and retired to bed, where I slept soundly.

The following day I and three others formed a party for a visit to the far-famed pyramids of Gizeh. We chartered a carriage, taking our lunch with us; and from the time we left Shepheard’s Hotel until we returned that hateful word, “Backsheesh,” resounded in our ears; indeed, I should say that there is no word in the Egyptian language so frequently on the tip of an Arab tongue as that. I should suppose that the pyramids of Gizeh are about ten miles from Cairo. There is a pretty good road, which was constructed by the former Khedive, Ismail, specially to accommodate the Prince of Wales when he visited the place some years ago. During our drive we could almost have imagined that a line of sentries had been posted all along the road specially to utter that horrid word, “Backsheesh,” so continuously were our tympanums offended with it. Arrived at the base of the Great Pyramid, we are immediately surrounded by a considerable number of Arabs, who are all anxious to assist us in the ascent, of course, for a small consideration; but one of our party having been there once before, knew how to set about matters in a business-like way, so he demanded at once the presence of the Pyramid Sheik, who very soon came. We told him we did not want all this crowd of Arabs, but two each would be sufficient. Accordingly he allotted us these, but as he suggested that a third would be desirable to push us up from behind, we had him. Those who have ascended the Great Pyramid are not likely to forget the dusky demons who accompany them.

I commence the ascent with my body-guard, who appear now to look upon me as a piece of brittle china, and are most anxious to prevent me using my limbs in my own way—they will not let me take a step without their assistance. Directly I had started I found my body-guard considerably augmented, and notwithstanding repeated warnings that I did not want them, and that they would not get any backsheesh, they stuck to me all the way up and back. For the time being I belong solely to these energetic, incessantly-chattering Arabs, whose most strenuous efforts were now put forth to damaging my ball and socket joints.

I have to ascend 203 steps—the lower steps are about four feet high, and few of them less than three feet anywhere. The two Arabs in front get on to the step I have to land on; each seizes an arm, one gets behind, and the hoisting process begins. The latter gives the cue, and with a loud “Ha-hu,” up I go from one step to the other. This game goes on with great rapidity, until I had got about half-way up, where I think it advisable to rest awhile. So down I sat, but soon found that instead of three Arabs I was at once surrounded by about a dozen, all talking most vehemently to me at the same time. It was in vain to protest—all had curiosities, scarabei, little images, and ancient coins, some of them curious, no doubt dating back to the time of Adam. For a small consideration they were all anxious to place these in my possession, and all were shouting into my ear, “Autica efendi, autica.” At last, for peace sake, I bought a small image of a defunct Pharaoh from one, and from another three or four copper coins, all, of course, the only genuine. In vain I protested against having any more. I had no peace until I had bought something from each one; in fact, I had no quiet until I turned all my pockets inside out, showing conclusively that I had spent every piaster with them. After resting awhile, we continued the ascent, and after a succession of ha-hus, tugs, and hoistings, I at last found myself on the summit of the Great Pyramid, and well rewarded for the trouble I had taken.

Here, in this bright, clear atmosphere, I saw stretching out for miles on the west the Libyan Desert, and reaching out before and around us in vast extent the classic and historic hills, rivers, and plains of Ham and Mizraim, Heliopolis, Memphis, Mount Mokattam, Sakhara, the beautiful city of Cairo, with its numberless mosques and slender minarets, skirted by the outstretched Nile, bearing on its placid bosom hundreds of dahabeahs, and on its banks tall waving palm-trees. Nearer is the village of Gizeh, and closer still the remaining pyramids of Gizeh, the granite temple, and the sphinx, the whole forming a picture that cannot be effaced in a life-time.

It is said with some truth, “Time tries all,” but I have also heard it said that “the pyramids try time,” and, upon my word, it almost seems so, when we think of their great antiquity. Here they have stood for thousands of years in majestic grandeur, looking down on many Pharaohs and many dynasties, and witnessing the rise, greatness, and decline of a once mighty nation. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, and Moses have gazed on these huge piles of masonry, which raised their lofty heads long, long before Abraham in a day of famine sought bread at the hands of Pharaoh.

When I had spent some time in gazing again and again on this beautiful scene, and thoroughly succeeded in obtaining a mental photograph of it, I commenced the descent, and found I could get down much more comfortably without assistance than with; but this the pertinacious Arabs would not hear of, they said, on account of the danger to me. But my own private opinion was that they wanted to earn good backsheesh by persistent attention. I resigned myself to my fate, and at last reached the foot of the pyramid by a series of jumps and bumps very trying to my spinal column, and which joggled my internal economy most unpleasantly.

After a short rest, we explored the interior, a rather difficult achievement in some parts. We had brought a good substantial luncheon with us from the hotel, which we thankfully disposed of at a house, or palace, near by. This was specially built, I believe, either for the Prince of Wales or the Empress Eugenie, I really forget which. After lunch we visited the sphinx, two or three tombs, and the other two pyramids, settled up with the sheik, and drove off to our hotel; and not until I reached the steps of the hotel did I hear the last of that hateful word “Backsheesh.” When I retired to rest I dreamt of a pocketful of large copper coins and scarabei, an armful of defunct Pharaohs, an army of lithe, sinewy, swarthy, impecunious Arabs, amongst whom I had scattered a ship-load of piasters, and “still they were not happy.”

Before I have done entirely with the pyramids, I think I ought to say something about them, as those at Gizeh are the most remarkable. This group consists of nine, and comprises three of the most remarkable monuments in existence—those of Cheops, Cephren, and that of Mycerinus, the last-named much smaller than the other two. Herodotus, who was born about 500 B.C., tells us that in building the great pyramid of Cheops it took 100,000 men working incessantly for 30 years to complete it; 10 years of this 30 was spent in making a causeway 3,000 feet long, to facilitate the transportation of the stone from the Turah quarries. Herodotus describes the method of building by steps, and raising the stones from layer to layer by machines, and finally of facing the external portion from the top down. Its present height is 460 feet, the original height was 480 feet.

The extent of solid masonry has been estimated at 82,111,000 cubic feet. It at present covers 12 acres. The only entrance is on the north face, 49 feet above the base, though the masonry has been so much broken away that the débris reaches nearly up to it. A passage, 3 feet 11 inches high and 3 feet 5½ inches wide, conducts from the entrance down a slope at an angle of 26° 41´, a distance of 320 feet 10 inches to the original sepulchral chamber, commonly known as the subterraneous apartment; it is carried, reduced in dimensions, beyond this a distance of 52 feet 9 inches into the rock, though for what purpose remains a matter of conjecture. The sepulchral chamber is 46 feet long by 27 feet wide, and 11½ feet high. From the entrance passage another branches off and leads to several other passages and chambers. One of the latter, known as the Queen’s Chamber, is situated about the middle of the pyramid, 67 feet above the base; it has a groined roof, and measures 17 feet broad by 18 feet 9 inches long and 20 feet 3 inches high. The other, called the King’s Chamber, is reached by an offshoot from the Queen’s Passage, 150 feet long. Its dimensions are 34 feet 3 inches long by 17 feet 1 inch wide, and 19 feet 1 inch high. The chamber is lined with red granite highly polished, single stones reaching from the floor to the ceiling, and the ceiling itself is formed of nine large slabs of polished granite extending from wall to wall. The only contents of the apartment is a sarcophagus of red granite, which, judging by its dimensions, must have been introduced when the building was proceeding. It is supposed to have contained a wooden coffin with the mummy of the king, and that these long since disappeared when the pyramids were first opened and plundered. We do not see these pyramids as they originally were. The outer casing of polished stone has been removed and utilized in constructing the mosque of Sultan Hassan. These pyramids were built between 5,000 and 6,000 years ago. Great was the antiquity of Thebes before European history begins to dawn. It was declining before the foundations of Rome were laid, but the building of the great pyramids of Gizeh preceded the earliest history of Thebes by 1,000 years. Whilst speaking of Thebes, I’ll just mention that there are to be seen to-day the tomb of the great Sethos, Joseph’s Pharaoh, of his greater son, Rameses II., and of Menophres or Meneptha, in whose reign the Exodus took place. In the tomb of Sethos, coloured sculptures cover 320 feet of the excavation. There is to be seen the draughtsman’s handiwork in red colour, showing the designs that were to be executed by the sculptor, and the corrections in black ink of the superintendent of such works, and although these sketches were made 3,000 years ago, they are still quite clear and fresh-looking. On the east side of the pyramid, half buried in sand, is the wonderful colossal Sphinx, his head 25 feet high and back 100 feet long, all one stone.

CHAPTER VI.

HELIOPOLIS—THE SHOUBRA ROAD—BEDROSKYN—MITRAHENNY—MEMPHIS—SAKHARA—APIS MAUSOLEUM—WORSHIP OF THE BULL APIS—TOMB OF KING PHTA—MEET THE KHEDIVE—ENGAGE SERVANTS FOR THE SOUDAN.

My next visit was to Heliopolis on donkey-back. I was told that it would be a nice ride, but nothing to see except an obelisk when I got there. Notwithstanding this, I felt very desirous of visiting this ancient seat of learning, where Moses had lived and “become learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians.” Accordingly Ibrahim and I started off. Leaving the citadel and tombs of the Caliphs on my right, I had a pleasant ride of about two hours or so from Cairo through avenues of acacias and tamarisk trees, a large plain covered with a luxuriant growth of sugar-cane, citrons, lemons, oranges, ricinus, cactuses, olive trees and palms. Before reaching the mounds of Heliopolis is a well of fine water on the border of a grove of citrons and palms, and in the midst of these is a venerable old sycamore enclosed by palisades and regarded with veneration by the Copts, as the place where Joseph, Mary and the infant Saviour rested on their flight into Egypt. Although a very aged tree, it cannot be, of course, as old as the legend affirms. It is, however, a very pretty spot, sheltered from the busy hum of life, embowered in citron thickets, which resound with the music of birds, and with tall, waving palm trees, on the trembling branches of which large vultures rock to and fro. I approach the site of Heliopolis on a dead level, and find that it stood formerly on an artificial elevation, overlooking lakes which were fed by canals communicating with the Nile. With what history does this place teem! Here, or in the vicinity, Jeremiah wrote his Lamentations. Thales, Solon, Pythagoras and Plato studied here. From the learned priests of Heliopolis, Plato—who studied here for several years—is believed to have derived the doctrine of the immortality of the soul and of a future state of rewards and punishments. This neighbourhood was probably the scene of the Exodus of the Israelites, and here was the most celebrated university in the world for philosophy and science. It was here that Potipherah, the priest or Prince of On, resided. Here Joseph married his daughter Asenath, who became the mother of Ephraim and Manasseh. Now what do I see? This once famous city of the sun, the Heliopolis of Herodotus and Strabo, the On of Joseph, the Bethshemesh of Jeremiah, the university of the world at that time, with its collection of colleges and temples, avenues of sphinxes and extensive dwellings of the learned priests, dazzling palaces, obelisks and splendid edifices has been almost blotted out, and as I stood there absorbed in thought, and feebly endeavouring to picture to myself this place as it once stood, teeming with life, wealth and power, those beautiful words of Shakespeare, our immortal bard, came floating through my mind as very descriptive of what I now saw—

The cloud-capt towers,

The gorgeous palaces,

The solemn temples,

The great globe itself,

Yea, all which it inherit,

Shall dissolve,

And like the baseless fabric of a vision,

Leave not a wreck behind.

All was now desolation, if I except the massive foundations of the Temple of the Sun, which are still visible in a few places. The one solitary object that serves to mark this once celebrated city is an obelisk of solid granite, 62 feet high, the last monument of a temple that once vied in magnificence with those of Karnak or Baalbeck, and which has been pointing to the sky from the time of the old monarchy for more than 4,000 years. It bears the name of Osirtesen I. (Joseph’s contemporary), the first great name in Theban history, builder of the older and smaller part of the great temple of Karnak and King of Upper and Lower Egypt, and probably where I then stood looking at, but unable to decipher the hieroglyphics on this obelisk, Joseph and Moses (who had both been admitted to the priest cast) had stood before me. Sic transit gloria mundi.

I had now seen all there was to see, and was pleased that I had made this visit, so I mounted my donkey and got back to Cairo. It happened to be Friday, the Mahomedan Sunday. On this day all the rank and fashion can be seen between four and six driving up and down the Shoubra Road. This is lined by a splendid avenue of trees, which meet over-head, thus forming a delightful shade. It was now about 4 p.m.; I performed a hasty toilet and set off for a carriage drive down this road. I found it thronged with visitors and a goodly sprinkling of officers, amongst whom I saw the now famous Arabi Pacha. Mounted sentries also were posted at intervals each side of the road as the Khedive usually takes a drive there every Friday about 4 or 5 p.m. I had not been there long ere he came sweeping down with his escort.

Next day I devoted to exploring the ancient (probably the most ancient city in the world), Memphis, the Noph of the Bible, and its necropolis, Sakhara. According to Herodotus its foundation was ascribed to Menes, the first King of Egypt. If this was so it would be about 6,000 years old, and it is said that the art of building was known centuries before his time.

It is quite a good day’s work to perform this journey in the blazing sun. I get an early breakfast and leave at 7.30 on my donkey, accompanied by Ibrahim on another donkey, in possession of my luncheon. The distance to the railway station is about two miles. Here I procure tickets for ourselves and the two donkeys, proceed to Bedrashyn, a distance of about ten miles, then remount and pass through the village of Mitrahenny, then a very fine palm-grove, on to the site of ancient Memphis, once a large, rich, and splendid city, remarkable for its temples and palaces. As late as 524 B.C., at the time of the conquest of Cambyses it was the chief commercial centre of the country, and was connected by canals with the Lakes Mœris and Mareotis. Some distance from the village of Mitrahenny I saw near the pathway a colossal statue of Rameses the Great in excellent preservation. It is composed of a single block of red granite, polished. It was originally 50 feet in length, but has been mutilated, and now does not measure more than 48 feet. It lies on its side in a pit by the wayside, which, during the inundation of the Nile, is filled with water. On its subsidence the alluvial deposit is scraped off sufficiently to show the statue to travellers. Vast mounds of broken pottery and statuary are to be seen about here and Sakhara, probably burying the ancient city. Sakhara is about two miles or so from Memphis, and the greater part of the ride lies through sandy desert. It lies, in fact, on the edge of the Lybian Desert. It is remarkable for its ancient monuments, among which are 30 pyramids. The great step pyramid is said to be even older than the pyramids of Gizeh. Besides these 30 there are the ruins of a great many others, and numberless grottoes, sarcophagi, the Ibis catacombs, and Apis Mausoleum, which was discovered by Mariette Bey. He observed the head of a sphinx protruding from the sand, and remembering that Strabo described the Serapeum of Memphis as approached by an avenue of sphinxes, he at once commenced his explorations in search of the temple in which Apis was worshipped when alive and the tomb in which it was buried when dead. The sand-drift, after immense exertions, was cleared away, and the avenue was laid bare from a superincumbent mass, which was in some places 70 feet deep. Conceive, if you can, the splendour of this imposing approach; no less than 141 sphinxes were discovered in situ, besides the pedestals of others. The temple to which they led has disappeared, but the tomb remains.

I go down hill, nearly up to my knees in sand, with my guide. A great door is unlocked and thrown open, we then light our candles and explore. We proceed a considerable distance through a passage or tunnel, and then find ourselves in a large vault or tunnel some 200 or 300 yards in length. Chambers lead out of it on either side as large as an ordinary sitting-room, and about 12 feet high, in each of which is a ponderous granite sarcophagus, polished. Placed on the sarcophagus like a lid was a granite slab of great size and weight, the whole weighing about 20 tons. Near the subterranean cemetery of the bulls are the groves or pits of the sacred Ibis also formerly worshipped. These are enclosed in earthenware vases; the bones and broken urns now lie scattered all around. These huge blocks of granite were actually transported from the quarries near Syene to Memphis, a distance of nearly 600 miles! I carefully examined one sarcophagus containing the embalmed dead deity. It was carved all over with sacred hieroglyphics, sharp and clear in their outlines, and the polish on the marble bright as it was 3,000 years ago. I saw between 30 and 40 of these sarcophagi here.

The worship of the bull Apis was celebrated with great pomp and splendour, and he was regarded as the representative of Osiris.

His interment would cost as much as that of any king or conqueror. It was necessary that he should be black with a triangle of white on the forehead, a white spot in the form of a crescent on the right side, and a sort of knot like a beetle under his tongue. When a bull of this description was found he was fed four months, in a building facing the east. At the new moon he was led to a splendid ship with great solemnity and conveyed to Heliopolis, where he was fed 40 days more by priests and women, who performed before him various indecent ceremonies. After this no one was suffered to approach him. From Heliopolis the priests carried him to Memphis, where he had a temple, two chapels to dwell in, and a large court for exercise. He had a prophetic power which he imparted to the children about him. The omen was good or bad according as he went into one stable or the other. His birthday was celebrated every year when the Nile began to rise; the festival continued seven days. A golden patera was thrown into the Nile, and it was said that the crocodile was tame as long as the feast continued. He was only suffered to live 25 years, and at his death he was embalmed and buried in these sarcophagi amidst universal mourning till the priest had found a successor.

When I emerged once more from this mausoleum and struggled up through the sand I paid a visit to the tomb of King Phty or Phta, said to be 5,400 years old. His sarcophagus is similar to those I had just visited, and is contained in a nice lofty room, the walls of which, as are the walls of the chapel outside, plentifully and excellently sculptured, and quite fresh in appearance, though so ancient. I do not remember all I saw represented on the walls and tombs, but amongst other things there were lions, giraffes, ostriches, sacred Ibis, owls, crocodiles, elephants, buffaloes, a boat floating on the water with a man in it, and in the water fish of different kinds, Egyptians fishing, harpooning the hippopotamus, agricultural pursuits, ploughing and sowing, treading out the corn just as they do now, the butcher sharpening his knife, the butcher killing the animal whilst another holds him down, hunting, battle scenes, &c., &c. Some figures on the wall had been painted red; the paint is still good and not at all frayed. In another excavation, after leaving this tomb, I saw a mummy; but I must not expend too much time over this place, although I feel quite disposed to keep on talking of it. We cannot leave the plain of Memphis without recurring to the most memorable event in all its eventful history. It was probably here that Moses and Aaron stood before Pharaoh and demanded that he should let the people go. This was the spot where “Pharaoh rose up in the night, he and all his servants, and all the Egyptians; and there was a great cry in Egypt, for there was not a house in which there was not one dead.”

Ruminating on the mutability of human affairs, I mounted my donkey, had a long ride through beautiful palm groves, and finally emerged from the village of Gizeh on to the main road from the pyramids and over a handsome bridge across the Nile to my hotel. When half-way across the Nile, I observed the Khedive and his escort coming along, so I got off my donkey to watch him pass. I took off my hat to him, and he acknowledged my salutation with a gracious bow. As I returned homewards, in imagination I saw these glorious cities of old Egypt peopled. I tried to picture to myself—feebly, I dare say—the splendour and wealth of those people, the magnificence of the designs carried out, the result of which was that neither before nor since has the sun shone on anything like such superb, massive, and imposing temples, palaces, and tombs in the world. Thebes, with its hundred gates, was perhaps the most splendid city in the world for many centuries. Then there were Luxor, Karnak, Philæ, Elephantine, Baalbeck, Dendera, Aba-Simbal, Abydos, Esneh, Edfau, Silsilis, and other places, all decorated with palaces, temples, pyramids, tombs, and sphinxes, &c., on the same magnificent scale; but all have shared the same fate, and their stupendous ruins are all that remain to strike the stranger with awe and wonder.

About two days after our arrival in Cairo, our party was augmented by the arrival of Mr. W. D. James, Mr. A. James, and Mr. Percy Aylmer, Mahoom, a black boy; who had been rescued from the Soudan some years beforehand; Jules, George, and Anselmia, the three latter European servants. Here we engaged Suleiman as a sort of general manager for the caravan; he had travelled through the Soudan with Sir Samuel Baker; Ali, a very good cook, and Cheriffe, who made a very good butler, and had been accustomed to travel as a kind of steward on the Nile boats.

CHAPTER VII.

THE LAND OF GOSHEN—ANCIENT CANALS—SUEZ—HOWLING DERVISHES—ECLIPSE OF THE MOON AND STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF NATIVES—LEAVE SUEZ—WHERE THE ISRAELITES CROSSED THE RED SEA—PASS MOUNT SINAI—CORAL REEFS ABUNDANT.

Our next move was on to Suez by rail, a day’s journey through another very interesting portion of Egypt, the land of Goshen, the home of the Israelites for 430 years. A good deal of country near the line of railway is now under good cultivation, supplied by the Sweet Water Canal. The earliest attempt that we are acquainted with to construct a canal was by Rameses the Great. It was between 50 and 60 miles in length, and left the Nile at Bubastis, reaching into the neighbourhood of Lake Timsah. Upon it Rameses built his two treasure cities, Pithom and Raamses near Ismailia, mentioned in the 1st chapter of Exodus, and there is little doubt that the Israelites, who were then in bondage, laboured at these cities, and the canal 3,000 years ago. It is probable also that the canal dated far back beyond this time, for the Egyptians had been great in canal making 1,000 years or more before then. One of the greatest marks of Rameses was the covering the whole of Egypt with a net-work of waterways in connection with the river. They served a double purpose—they greatly extended the supply of water and the area of cultivation, and were invaluable for defensive purposes. Many centuries after this Pharaoh Necho took this canal in hand 500 or 600 years B.C. He undertook to adapt it for navigation and prolong it to the head of the Arabian Gulf. He is the only Egyptian monarch whose name appears connected with maritime enterprise, and he was so zealous as to perfect the formation of a ship canal connecting the Nile with the Red Sea. He carried the great work as far as the Bitter Lakes, and then abandoned it, warned by an oracle to desist, after expending the lives of 120,000 fellahs. Herodotus actually saw the docks, which as a part of the plan, he had constructed on the Red Sea. One conqueror succeeded another, and the works got neglected and the canal choked up. The Romans again carried on extensive repairs and alterations, but on the downfall of the Roman Empire anarchy and confusion prevailed, and all public works were allowed to fall into dilapidation. The canals were choked up, and remained unnavigable till the Arab conquest of Egypt. Under the vigorous administration of Amrou they were re-opened, and corn and other provisions were conveyed along them for the use of Mecca, Medina, and other Arabian towns. A very great deal could be said about their ancient canals, but I have only time to glance en passant at a little of the ancient history of the places I passed by. In the evening we arrived at Suez, 76 miles east of Cairo. There is very little to interest or amuse at Suez, but here we were obliged to remain for nearly a week by reason of stoppages in the canal, which are frequent. The day after our arrival we took donkey rides down the Mole, which is 850 yards long, to see after our provisions, tents, &c., which Mr. James and his friends had got together for our campaigning in the Soudan. We found them, and there sure enough was a stambouk (a native boat something like a fishing smack) not only full but piled up with everything that we could possibly require, and the collecting of which must have necessitated a great deal of forethought. Two days after our arrival, Mr. J. B. Colvin, of Monkham’s Hall, Waltham Abbey, arrived by steamer from Australia, to join us, thus completing the party. During our stay here there happened to be an eclipse of the moon. This appeared to have a very disturbing influence on the native element, as I should think that every tom-tom in Suez was called into requisition and incessantly beaten all over the town during the eclipse to drive away the evil spirits. If it did not succeed I have no hesitation in saying that all the good spirits (ourselves) would very soon have vanished if we could. We had ample time to explore the town both by day and night, and amuse ourselves as well as we could by donkey rides down the Mole, boating, fishing and bathing, but whilst bathing we were careful not to go far from shore for a header or remain in long, as sharks are so plentiful in the Red Sea. One evening, two or three of us were wandering about at night and heard strange noises issuing from a small building. We were sufficiently inquisitive to go up a narrow passage to ascertain the cause. There we found about a dozen very dirty howling dervishes in the odour of sanctity (a decidedly strong odour we thought) performing their senseless and absurd mode of worship with great energy. They were in a dirty room, having a damp, uneven, earthen floor, the dimensions of which were about 7 feet high, 7 feet wide, and perhaps 10 feet long. Very little light or air could find its way in. The weather was very hot, and the sudoriferous glands of these unsavoury gentry were in an abnormal state of activity. Need I say that we remained here a very short time? We were all thoroughly tired of Suez, and anxious to get on to Souâkin, but unfortunately, amongst all the steamers blocked in the Suez Canal, we could not hear of a single one bound for Souâkin. The Agra, a British India steamer, was bound for Jeddah, on the opposite coast, so Mr. James telegraphed to London, asking the Company to let us be taken to Souâkin. They acceded to the request. Accordingly, on the 8th December, we got on board, unloaded the stambouk, and started off for Souâkin, the port of Nubia, and indeed of Central Africa, since made historical by our slaughter of thousands of Arabs in that neighbourhood. The places of interest pointed out to us on the Red Sea coast were Moses’ Well, Mount Sinai, and the spot where the Israelites crossed. Here the arm of the sea is 12 miles wide, and just here Pi-hahiroth before Baal-zephon is the one and only opening in the mountains. Here one million and a half of the Israelites—men, women, and children—passed through in the night, whilst the army of Egypt pursued them. After a most agreeable but very warm voyage (90° F. in the shade) of 3½ days we reached Souâkin. During our last day at sea Captain Smith was very careful in his navigation, as the Red Sea, particularly in that last day’s voyage, abounds in coral-reefs.

LANDING PLACE AT SOUÂKIN.

CHAPTER VIII.

ARRIVAL AT SOUÂKIN—THE SOUDAN—BEDOUIN ARAB PRISONERS IN THE SQUARE, NOT “ON THE SQUARE”—IVORY—ENGAGE CAMELS—SHEIK MOUSSA—SOUÂKIN—SLAVES—TRAGIC END OF A DOCTOR—HADENDOWAH ARABS—AN ILL-FATED MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE.

We were now just about to land in the Soudan, and as that word is, as I am writing, in everyone’s mouth, it would be as well to say something about it before I go any further.

The Soudan, or Beled-es-Sudan, Land of the Blacks, has since the Middle Ages been the common name of the vast extent of country in Central Africa, which stretches southward from the Desert of Sahara to the Equator. The name was originally applied by the Arabs, but with great latitude of signification, different authors giving it to the different parts of the territory with which the varying routes across the desert made them acquainted. Later geographers divide it into High and Low Soudan. Many include Senegambia in it. High Soudan stretches from the sources of the Niger, Senegal and Gambia, to the Upper Nile, or, at all events, to the south of Lake Chad, and embraces the mountains of Kong and of Upper Senegambia, the kingdoms of Ashantee, Dahomey, Mandingo, Houssah, and Feelah. All this country is richly watered and wooded, distinguished by a luxuriant tropical vegetation and by deposits of gold. Low Soudan stretches on the north of High Soudan, eastward to Kordofan, and northward to the desert. This district is partly level, partly undulating, and partly broken by chains of lofty hills rising within its own limits. Its situation between the desert on the north and the mountains which border it on the south, with a climate destructive to foreigners, and a lawless and predatory population, make it one of the most inaccessible regions in the world. In the south, where it is watered by the Niger, Lake Tchad, and their tributaries, it assumes a fertile and cultivated appearance. The inhabitants contain numerous nations of different races, chiefly of the Negro, Fulde, or Fellatah stems, together with many Arab colonists.

This is what Sir Samuel Baker says about the Soudan in the Contemporary Review: “Before the White Nile annexation the Soudan was accepted as a vague and unsatisfactory definition as representing everything south of the first cataract at Assouan, without any actual limitation; but the extension of Egyptian territory to the Equator has increased the value of the term, and the word Soudan now embraces the whole of that vast region which comprises the Deserts of Libya, the ancient Merve, Dongola, Kordofan, Darfur, Senaar, and the entire Nile Basin, bordered on the east by Abyssinia, and elsewhere by doubtful frontiers. The Red Sea alone confines the Egyptian limit to an unquestionable line. Wherever the rainfall is regular the country is immensely fertile; therefore the Soudan may be divided into two portions—the great deserts which are beyond the rainy zone, and consequently arid, and the southern provinces within that zone, which are capable of great agricultural development. Including the levels of the mighty Nile, a distance is traversed of about 3,300 miles from the Victoria N’yanza to the Mediterranean; the whole of this region throughout its passage is now included in the name ‘Soudan.’”

We had on board Captain Gascoigne and Dr. Melidew, of the Royal Horse Guards. They were also bent on a shooting expedition in the Soudan, but did not accompany us farther than Souâkin. There were several other passengers on board bound for India.

We landed at Souâkin on the quay, in a large open square. One side is occupied by what is absurdly called the palace, a large building in which the Governor transacts his official duties, the opposite side by the custom-house, the other by a guard-house, whilst the opposite side was not occupied by any building, but was open to and contiguous to the Red Sea; it was, in fact, the quay.

Here I saw nine tons of elephants’ tusks ready for shipment. The average weight of each pair of tusks would be somewhere about 36lbs. I computed that about 560 elephants would have been slaughtered to make up nine tons of ivory; and if elephants are killed at that rate, people may well exclaim about the scarcity of ivory. What next attracted my attention was about 60 Bedouin Arabs in heavy chains, wandering about in this large open square. These poor fellows had to pay their gaolers 100 dollars a month. The Maria Theresa dollar which is in use in the Soudan, and preferred to any other coin, is worth 4s. of our money. They had to find their own food, or rather their tribe did so. I was told that at one time they were a strong tribe, and had come over from Arabia. They had at one time 8,000 camels, but they had dwindled down to 2,000, as whenever they failed to pay the taxes some of their camels were seized. I cannot speak with any certainty of their offence, but somehow or other they had incurred the anger of the then Governor of the Soudan, Ali Riza Pacha, about a year beforehand. He clapped them into irons, and there they seemed likely to remain, unless some more kindly-disposed Governor superseded him. This fortunately happened not long before our return to Souâkin in the following April, when Ali Dheen Pacha was appointed, who soon liberated them.

The inhabitants of Souâkin are principally Arabs, a few Greek and Italian merchants, and two Englishmen. The Government usually have a garrison of about 300 Nubian troops stationed in an undefended barrack on the mainland, about a mile from the town.

Blind to their own interest, the Egyptian Government obstructs traffic by the heavy duties which it levies. Cattle and sheep, which can be obtained from the tribes in the neighbourhood, are sent by hundreds annually to Suez by sea. Were it not for the heavy duties imposed, I should say that a large trade ought to be done with Suez, which is but three and a half days from Souâkin. There is a telegraph line to Kassala. They have large numbers of camels for sale or hire, but no horses, mules, or donkeys. The water is collected during the wet season in a large reservoir about a mile from the town; there are also two or three wells at the same place.

We soon introduced ourselves to Mr. Brewster, an Englishman, and head of the custom-house; and he in turn sent for Achmet Effendi, the Civil Governor of Souâkin, to whom he introduced us. Of course, there followed the inevitable salaaming, coffee and cigarettes, so customary in the East. Our business was very soon explained; we wanted about 80 camels provided without delay to transport ourselves and our baggage across the desert to Kassala. The camel sheik, Moussa, was sent for, and soon appeared—a really picturesque, handsome-featured man, almost black, possessed of gleaming, regular teeth, wearing a snow-white turban and loose white robe, precisely like the ancient Roman toga. En passant, I cannot help thinking that the slang word “togs” is derived from the word toga.

The Sheik Moussa promised to provide us with the camels within three days; and, strange to say, he did so, a singular instance of a man keeping his word to one in the East. I know that my experience amongst the officials in Turkey was very different—there everything was put off until to-morrow. A day would be fixed for me to call at the Seraskierat, or War Office, and when I went I was usually met with the reply, “Yarrin sabbah, effendi” (to-morrow, sir), or “Ywash, ywash” (by and bye), not once or twice, but I daresay five or six times. Another inconvenient phrase which is always on their lips if one wants any money from them, and which is spoken trippingly on the tongue, is “Para yok” (no paras), in English, “I haven’t a farthing.”

It soon became known that there was a “Hakeem Ingelese,” as they called me, in our party, and I very soon had many patients, amongst whom was a child of one of the Bedouin Arabs.

In the afternoon I improved my acquaintance with Mr. Brewster, who had officially resided here four years, and, of course, knew most of the people and the customs of the place. There are a great many good and curiously-built houses with flat roofs, built of blocks of white coral, and a great many tent-like structures constructed with reeds, stalks of palm leaves, and matting, which is very cheap and abundant, made by the natives out of palm leaves. Mr. Brewster was good enough to escort me over Souâkin, and give me all the information he could about the place and people. As we strolled on he pointed out the home of a slave-dealer, who then had several slaves—children and young girls. These could easily be transferred as ivory, dhurra, or something of the kind, as old Achmet Effendi connived at slave-dealing, and would shut his eyes to the transaction provided his palm was crossed with a couple of dollars per head. The little children realize from 30 to 40 dollars a head, and young girls 70, 80, or 100 dollars.

“Why,” said I, “in England it is supposed that the slave trade has been abolished in Egypt long ago. When in Cairo I saw the slave-market, but was told no slaves have been sold there for the past three or four year.”

“Ah,” said he, “you will find, when you get further into Africa, that it is still carried on, and more openly than it is here. When they have been captured they are driven across the desert just like cattle to some quiet place on the Red Sea coast, where there is a stambouk waiting; there shipped and taken across to Jeddah in a day or so, and sold by public auction.” The only other Englishman resident at Souâkin was Mr. Bewlay; he had at once lived in Jeddah for a time, and he assured me that he had often seen slaves sold there. Apropos of my profession, Mr. Brewster related a very interesting, and, to me, a very instructive anecdote, which served to enlighten me considerably as to the peculiar line of thought which sometimes permeates the native brain, and to the still more peculiar line of action which it leads to. He told me that about three years or so before our arrival a German doctor, who had settled there, whilst attending a native, had occasion to perform some trivial operation which was not attended with the success which he desired or anticipated, as unfortunately for the native, and subsequently for the doctor, the former was so inconsiderate as to expire a day or two afterwards. The doctor could truly say after this, “A doctor’s lot is not a happy one,” inasmuch as the friends of the defunct Arab paid him a visit, and in a marked but highly objectionable manner, showed what they thought of the doctor’s services in a way that did not commend itself to me, and which, for want of a better illustration, we will call “a new way of paying old debts.” The worthy leech was requested, in so pressing a manner that refusal was out of the question, to accompany these friends of the deceased, and nolens volens, they escorted him to a large open space just outside the town, where dhurra and other things were sold, and there they remunerated him, not in dhurra, not in sheep, not in goats, not even in money, but in a most cutting manner, for they fell upon him with their knives and literally chopped him to pieces. Reader, “would you be surprised to hear,” that on learning this I was extremely careful not to perform any rash operations, and that my ministrations to the lame, the halt, the sick, and the blind, should be successful. At all events, it is a source of great gratification to me that they were not so unsuccessful as to necessitate the sudden and unlooked-for departure of any of my patients to their happy hunting-grounds.

The Hadendowah Arabs are the most numerous tribe in the neighbourhood of Souâkin, and are, for the most part, good-looking men; they are very dark, approaching to blackness, have good, well-formed features, large dark eyes, arched black eyebrows, and face, on which as a rule there is little or no hair, and nearly every Arab, here and elsewhere, that I met with, is possessed of the most beautifully white, regular, and sound teeth possible. There is little doubt but that this is due to the simple manner in which they live; their chief food is dhurra (sorghum vulgare). This contains 11½ per cent. of gluten, our wheat only ten per cent. This is the wheat of Egypt, and is the food of camels, horses, and men. Camels, however, get very little of it, as a rule, unless on a forced march, or are owned by a man who can afford it. It grows to the height of nine or ten feet, and is very prolific. I never counted the seeds in a head of this sorghum, but Sir Samuel Baker did, and he says that in one single head he found 4,840 grains. The Arabs, speaking generally, are not big-boned men, but are lithe, active, and sinewy. Their hair is bushy, frizzly, long, and black, which they wear very curiously; they often take as much trouble with it as any West-end dandy would do. A parting is made around the crown from one temple to the other; the hair on the top is combed up and kept short—perhaps an inch long—the rest is combed down, and stands out in a bush all round the head to a distance of three or four inches; a thin piece of stick, like a skewer slightly bent towards the sharp point, is stuck through the hair at the top, and is often used to stir up the population, which is no doubt very numerous. I have often seen their hair white with fat, which they plaster on most abundantly when they can get it, and as few wear any covering over their shoulders when they are exposed to the heat of the blazing sun, this drips down on to them. They wear a bundle of charms secured just above the elbow, a tope, or loin-cloth round the waist, which reaches down to their knees, and very many a ring in one nostril. Nearly all of them carry a shield and a long spear weighted at one end. The Hadendowhas are much given to lying and laziness.

During the time that we remained here we were fully occupied in preparing for our journey across the desert from Souâkin to Kassala, a distance of about 280 miles; we cut up old boxes, made new ones, and sorted out what provisions, &c., we should require. I arranged my medicine-chest and surgical instruments so that I could get at what I might want easily. We got a little shooting, sand-grouse, flamingoes, pelicans, and herons; wandered about the town and frightened all the children in the place, who thought we were slave-dealers come to steal them. The principal slave supply is obtained from the White Nile and Darfour; Khartoum, I believe, is the principal slave mart.

At nights we stretched ourselves out on the divan that ran round the room in the palace, and slept head to feet all round. This room adjoined and looked out on the square in which the Bedouin prisoners were confined; frequently in the early morning they woke us up with their clanking chains, or by indulging in their peculiar mode of devotion. The day before we started on our journey, Mr. Brewster said—

“Well, Doctor, I hope you will all return alive and well, and not be so unfortunate as a party that Dr. Felkin accompanied a year or two ago.”

“I am sure I quite indulge in the hope of returning to England in a sound state,” I replied. “But tell me about the misfortunes of the party you speak of.”

“That is done in a very few words,” said he. “Six missionaries went from Souâkin and six from Zanzibar, meeting eventually in the wilds of Africa, sent out by the English Church Mission Society, to reclaim lost sheep. They were not happy in the selection of a suitable spot for evangelising, as only three of them and Dr. Felkin returned to Souâkin, looking considerably the worse for wear; the others had succumbed to fever, dysentery, and spears. Indeed, I am not quite sure that some of them were not eaten.”

CHAPTER IX.

THE START ACROSS THE DESERT—MY CAMEL SERVES ME A SCURVY TRICK—THE CAMEL, ITS HABITS AND TRAINING.

Three days after our arrival at Souâkin there were some very heavy showers of rain. Mr. Brewster informed me that it was eighteen months since it last rained there.

On the fourth day after our arrival about 80 hired camels were brought into the large open square to be laden with the tents and baggage of every description. I wish I could adequately describe the scene that ensued—the camels groan and bellow without any provocation, as if they were the most ill-used animals in existence; the Arabs shout and wrangle with each other as they adjust the loads on the haweias (a kind of pack-saddle), clutch one another by the hair of the head, after the manner of women when quarrelling, and shake the offending head about most vigorously. Our head-man, Suleiman, walks round and distributes his favours very impartially—a tug of the hair for one, a box on the ears for another, and a flick of the coorbatch (a whip made of hippopotamus hide) for another. This scene lasted for about three hours, and when at last they did start, they formed a very long hamlah, or caravan. The head of one camel is tied to the tail of the one in front, a long piece of rope intervening to allow for the long stride of the camel. We posted our letters—the last for some time to come—for England, to say that we were just starting on our Arab life across the Nubian desert. The caravan having started, each of us sees to his riding camel being got ready. We are some time in starting, getting our makloufas (camel saddles) properly and securely adjusted, and our little belongings, such as rifles, revolvers, saddle-bags, travelling satchels, &c., fixed on them. Each one has a zanzimeer hung on to a strap by the side of the camel. The word zanzimeer requires explanation; it is a large leathern bottle, capable of holding three or four quarts of water. As, in our journey across the desert, we should perhaps be sometimes two or three days before we came to any well, we had to provide a water-camel, whose business was to carry two large barrels full of water for domestic purposes. Each of these had a padlock on them, so that the Arabs could not get at them just whenever they felt inclined—a very necessary precaution, as they are so very careless, would take the spigot out of the barrel, quench their thirst, and as likely as not insecurely replace the plug, and let the water waste, which would be a very serious calamity. The mode of mounting and sitting on a camel is peculiar; my legs don’t hang down each side of him in stirrups, but hang down in front of the saddle each side of his neck or crossed over the neck. No stirrups are used. The camel, of course, is on the ground, with his legs tucked under him; I approach his side and give a sudden vault or spring on to the makloufa. This must be done with great dexterity and quickness, unless the attendant has one foot placed on his fore-leg, as the camel gets up instantly as soon as I leave the ground, so of course, unless I am quick and dexterous, the result is disasterous; in other words, the camel gets on to his legs, and I go off mine on to my back. I watched the process of mounting very carefully, as it was my first experience of camel riding. I attempted and succeeded in doing the same as my pattern, and when my camel got up (which he did pretty quickly, and not without considerable danger and inconvenience to me), I felt that I occupied a very high and somewhat precarious position. However, I soon got accustomed to the peculiar motion of a camel. A hygeen, dromedary, or riding camel, can go on a shuffling kind of trot (which is infinitely preferable to a fast trot or walk) at the rate of about five miles an hour, and I am sure that anyone who rides 25 or 28 miles a day, under the burning rays of an African sun, will think he has done quite enough, although on some occasions we have made forced marches and travelled 30 or 33 miles in one day. There were no hygeens at Souâkin; we therefore rode our caravan camels. A hamlah, or caravan camel, is capable of carrying considerably over 3 cwt. for very long distances, travels at the rate of 2½ miles per hour, and will go steadily on for 12, 14, or 16 hours without stopping to eat or drink. He only requires water every fourth day, and can go without (on a pinch) 5 or 6 days, but when he does drink it is as well to let out his girths a few inches, or he will burst them. The twigs and leaves of the mimosa and kittar bushes, the scanty herbage of the desert, is all he requires, except whilst making forced marches, when he requires a certain amount of dhurra, because he has no time for grazing. This useful animal may well be called the ship of the desert, for if it were not for him, the enormous extent of burning sand which separates the fertile portion of the Soudan from Lower Egypt would be like an ocean devoid of vessels, and the deserts would be a barrier absolutely impassable by man. During the season when fresh pasture is abundant camels can go for weeks without water, provided they are not loaded or required to make extraordinary exertions; the juices of the plants which form their food are then sufficient to quench their thirst. The flesh of the young animal is one of the greatest luxuries; of the skins tents are made; the various sorts of hair or wool shed by the camel are wrought into different fabrics; and its dried dung constitutes excellent fuel, the only kind, indeed, to be obtained throughout vast extents of country. In order to qualify camels for great exertions and the endurance of fatigue, the Arabs begin to educate them at an early age. They are first taught to bear burdens by having their limbs secured under their belly, and then a weight proportioned to their strength is put on; this is not changed for a heavier load till the animal is thought to have gained sufficient power to sustain it. Food and drink are not allowed at will, but given in small quantity, at long intervals. They are then gradually accustomed to long journeys and an accelerated pace until their qualities of fleetness and strength are fully brought into action. They are taught to kneel, for the purpose of receiving or removing their load. When too heavily laden they refuse to rise, and by loud cries complain of the injustice. Those which are used for speed alone are capable of travelling from 60 to 90 miles a day: Instead of employing blows or ill-treatment to increase their speed, the camel-drivers sing cheerful songs, and thus urge the animals to their best efforts. When a caravan of camels arrives at a resting or halting-place, they kneel, and the cords sustaining the loads being untied, the bales slip down on each side. They generally sleep on their bellies: In an abundant pasture they generally browse as much in an hour as serves them for ruminating all night, and for their support during the next day. But it is uncommon to find such pasturage, and they are contented with the coarsest fare, and even prefer it to more delicate plants. Breeding and milk-giving camels are exempted from service, and fed as well as possible, the value of their milk being greater than that of their labour. The milk is very thick, abundant, and rich, but of rather a strong taste. Mingled with water it forms a very nutritive article of diet. The young camel usually sucks for twelve months, but such as are intended for speed are allowed to suck and exempted from restraint for two or three years. The camel attains the full exercise of its functions within four or five years, and the duration of its life is from forty to fifty years. The hump or humps on the back of a camel are mere accumulations of cellular substance and fat, covered by skin and a longer hair than that on the general surface. During long journeys, in which the animals suffer severely from want of food, and become greatly emaciated, these protuberances become gradually absorbed, and no trace of them left, except that the skin is loose and flabby where they were situated. In preparing for a journey, it is necessary to guard the humps from pressure or friction by appropriate saddles, as the slightest ulceration of these parts is followed by the worst consequences: insects deposit their larvæ in the sores, and sometimes extensive and destructive mortification ensues. I have often seen crows pecking away at sores on a camel’s side, and was surprised to see how little notice it takes of them. After all, I must say of the camel, that he not only groans and roars when he is too heavily laden, but at all times without the least occasion, and although it may appear mild, docile, and patient, it is frequently perverse and stupid. The males especially are at certain times dangerous. It is sure-footed, too, as I have often experienced in travelling over mountains so precipitous that no animal but a camel could have carried such heavy loads as I have seen it do without accident. All breeds of camels could not do so, but those belonging to the Hadendowah Arabs, between the Red Sea and Taka, are very sure-footed. The camels most highly thought of in the Soudan are the Bishareen; they are very strong and enduring, but not so large as many others. There is quite as much difference in the breeds of camels as of horses, and as much difference in riding a hygeen and baggage camel as there would be in riding a nice springy cob and a cart horse. Amongst the Arabs a good “hygeen,” or riding dromedary, is worth from 50 to 150 dollars; the average value of a baggage camel is about 15 dollars, but I believe our average ran up to 30 or 35 dollars.

CHAPTER X.

OUR FIRST CAMP—TORRENTS OF RAIN—JULES BARDET—CAMEL-DRIVERS BEHAVE BADLY—SULEIMAN IN TROUBLE—CAMEL-DRIVERS GET UPSET—THE DESERT—TWO OF US LOSE OUR WAY—JULES SUFFERS FROM DYSENTERY—SAND-STORM—A PILGRIM DIES ON THE ROAD, ANOTHER IN THE CAMP—JULES’ ILLNESS—CAMP SPLIT UP—LOSE OUR WAY—ENCAMP SEVERAL DAYS IN THE DESERT—ARAB HUTS—THE MIRAGE—A LION.

After this digression and short dissertation on the camel, I will return to the subject of our journey. We now formed a tolerably numerous company, ourselves seven, three European servants, Suleiman, Mahoom, Cheriff, and Ali, the cook, with an assistant, four or five native servants, and nearly thirty camel-drivers. George, one of our servants, and I had some trouble in getting our makloufas properly adjusted on our camels; consequently, we were behind the others in starting. I also made a call on Mr. Bewlay, who pressed me to remain to luncheon. As I knew that this was to be a short march of about three hours, I did so. I then bade adieu to Mr. Bewlay (one of the nicest and most gentlemanly fellows to be met with), and commenced my journey, thinking I should soon overtake my comrades, but in this I was greatly mistaken. I had reached the middle of the town, amongst the bazaars, when the eccentric conduct of my camel was quite alarming, exciting grave apprehensions respecting the safety of my limbs, I being quite a novice in the art of camel-riding. Down he flopped without the least preliminary warning, whilst I held on to the makloufa as if I had been in a hurricane. I plied my coorbatch on his tough hide; the only effect it produced was to make him open his mouth (to such a width that it could easily have accommodated a human head) and groan away with most stentorian voice. At last an Arab succeeded in getting him on his legs, and away he went at such a jolting pace that I experienced the greatest difficulty in keeping my seat. Down he flopped again in the same unceremonious manner as before just in front of a projecting part of the Police Station.

“Well,” I mentally ejaculated, “this is, indeed, too much. I will not be placed in such jeopardy as this any longer.”

I lost no time in dismounting; Sheik Moussa was sent for, and at once promised to find me a tractable beast. George remained with me. We had no sooner unburdened the camel, and got under the projecting roof of the Police Station, than down came the rain in torrents; then I felt thankful that my camel had proved so awkward and disobedient. Two hours and a half elapsed ere a respectable camel was brought. By that time the rain had ceased, and George and I resumed our journey in comfort.

When we arrived at camp at 6 p.m., we found the tents pitched and everyone changing their clothes, except Jules; they had all been drenched to the skin. This was a favourable opportunity for me to deliver a lecture on sanitary precautions. I therefore did so, warning all Europeans to remember that we were not now in England, but in the tropics, where the days were excessively hot and the nights not only cool, but often very cold at this time of the year; always to change wet clothing as soon as we got to camp; never to expose themselves to the burning rays of a tropical sun without helmets; and last, but not by any means least, to be extremely careful as to the quality of water they drank, and always to see that the zanzimeers were well washed out before they were replenished. Well, I know that in England, whilst practising my profession, I have met with extremely clever people who not only know their own business, but that of everyone else, and are most ready with their unasked-for advice. They are quite encyclopedias of knowledge, or, at least, they would have one think so. They apparently listen, with folded arms and the head a little bit on one side, in the most attentive manner, literally drinking in all the doctor is telling them when he forbids this and orders that, and yet will use their own judgment or sense—presuming, of course, that they have any—and the moment his back is turned they exclaim—

“Pooh! what an old fidget that doctor is. I know that when poor Mrs. Smith was ill her doctor didn’t do ought like that, but let her have a glass of stout for dinner, and ordered her a glass of hot whisky and water at bed-time, poor thing, and that was what kep her up.”

“When the doctor very impressively says, “Now, Mrs. Thompson, your friend is very ill—I wish you to be careful to give her so-and-so and avoid so-and-so,” Mrs. Thompson says, “Yes, doctor—I quite understand;” and Mrs. T., being a very garrulous, and also a very knowing personage, will begin a long rigmarole about her first husband’s case some 20 years before, and how beautifully she nursed him through an illness of “seven week,” as she calls it, and brought him round, she, of course, not having had her clothes off for four weeks, nor a wink of sleep for ten nights, till she was a perfect “shada,” but still able to articulate, poor thing. Unless the poor doctor now bolts off, she will then confidentially commence a history of three or four other cases in which she was, of course, eminently successful. These very clever people, so wise in their own conceit, are really very dangerous people, and I always look after them well. Of course, Mrs. Thompson may think the medicine “strong enough for a horse,” as she expresses herself, and will administer it if she thinks it suits the case, and exercise her very discriminating faculties in the way of diet, and matters of that kind; but at the end of a week Mrs. Thompson—who has, of course, seen many similar cases—expresses to her neighbours and confidants (who look upon her utterances as oracular) her dissatisfaction with that ere doctor, and is determined on his next visit to favour him with what she is pleased to call a bit of her mind. She does as promised—

“Well now, doctor, what do you think is the matter with poor Mrs. Smith? She don’t seem to get on at all. I remember when poor Mrs. Rodgers, my second husband’s first wife’s cousin, was laid up with—”

But, reader, you may imagine the rest; I can very well. I have used the preceding imaginary conversation “to point a moral and adorn my tale.”

In our camp I had a very headstrong Mr. “Cleverity,” if I may say so, to deal with. Jules, before we started, was working away, sorting the baggage, &c., in his shirt sleeves after passing through the rain, getting thirsty, and drinking bad claret and beer, such as he could obtain in the place. Indeed, his absorbing powers were remarkable—he resembled a huge dry sponge, which, when dipped into a basinful of water, absorbs it all. I ascertained, from one who knew him well, that this absorbing tendency was not altogether induced by the heat of the climate, but that it was his normal condition which he always suffered from in England, where he lived a life of comparative ease and indulgence. I only knew Jules absorb water when he could not get anything stronger. I had warned him at Souâkin not to get wet, as the evenings were so cold, and now, on arriving at camp, here he was again wet to the skin, helping to pitch tents and put things ship-shape; but, with a thirst unquenchable, he was continually drinking water which was the colour of pea-soup, but not quite so thick.

“Now, Jules,” said I, “remember what I told you at Souâkin. You are going the right way to get dysentery.”

He replied—

“Oh, I am all right, doctor. I am not an old woman, or a piece of barley-sugar. I shall take no harm.”

The sequel will show how disastrous was his disregard of my repeated warnings, and very much grieved I was for two reasons: one was the loss of a really good-hearted fellow, who had proved a faithful and affectionate servant to his master, who thought very much of him, for many years; the other was, that although I used every effort to save him, and many a time was unable to sleep on account of the anxiety the case caused me, so much so that I frequently visited his tent in the night, yet all was of no avail. Added to this, I was excessively and incessantly annoyed by the fussy interference of two amateur doctors in camp, who, as educated men, ought to have known better than to worry me seven or eight times a day with useless suggestions of a shadowy character as to the treatment of a complaint of which they knew absolutely nothing. They were great examples of an old adage, “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”

In the evening of our first day’s camping out, just after dinner (we dined at 7 p.m.), down came the rain again, causing us all to scamper off to our respective tents; spades were out, and trenches dug round, and there we remained until morning. At 6 a.m. we were up, and saw no more rain for several months; indeed, not until I reached Venice in the following May.

It was about 10 a.m. next day ere our caravan started. The sun blazed out with a scorching heat, causing us to feel as if we were in a Turkish bath from the evaporation which took place, and our solid leather portmanteaus, which were thoroughly saturated the day before, to curl up like match-boxes. Before we started on our second day’s march across the desert our camel men were told they were to go on until 6 p.m., and Suleiman was commissioned to see this order carried out. We often went on in front of them in the morning, on the look out for a shot at a desert gazelle; but it was singularly noticeable that about 1.30 p.m. we were all somewhere in the neighbourhood of Cheriff, our butler, who was in the charge of the canteen on a camel. Unless we made a forced march, we usually breakfasted about 7 a.m., luncheon at 1.30, dined at 7, and retired to rest at 9 or 9.30 p.m. After luncheon we frequently lay down on our rugs, smoking cigarettes and reading some book, long after the caravan had passed us. This day we did so, but judge of our astonishment when, at four o’clock, we came upon some of our camels browsing; others had not been unburdened, and nearly all the camel-drivers were in a circle, with uplifted spears.

We soon ascertained the cause of this; there was poor Suleiman, our head boss, the centre of attraction for these Hadendowab Arabs, with their uplifted spears, who were angrily jabbering away. To the question, “What’s the meaning of this, Suleiman? they were to have gone on until six o’clock,” he replied, “Yes, I know, gentlemen, that I tell them they no stop till I say, and I catch hold of one mans to stop him take the load off the camel, and now they say they spear me if I don’t leave them alone.”

HADENDOWAH ARAB CAMEL-MEN.

He pointed out the ringleaders of what looked like mutiny against authority, and as soon as he had done so, in true old English fashion, a few well-directed blows put about five Arabs in the prone position; all pulled out revolvers, and made them pile their spears, which were at once secured, tied in a bundle, and given in charge to the English servants. They were then made to re-load all the camels, and, at great inconvenience to ourselves, we re-start at 6.30, and march until nearly ten, just to let them see that they could not do as they liked, and that we were masters and not they. This assertion of authority had a most beneficial effect on the native mind. It was past eleven that night ere we dined, and I retired to rest at half-past twelve, with a feeling of general bruising and dislocated vertebræ easily accounted for, as I was unaccustomed to the peculiar motion of a camel, which has a knack of shaking up one’s liver in a most effectual manner. Referring to my diary, I find that on our third day’s march, Dec. 17th, the temperature was 82° F. in the shade at 1.30 p.m. I generally took the temperature when we halted for luncheon, which would usually be about one or half-past. We could do with the dry heat very well as we were mounted, but now, in consequence of the late heavy rains, we felt it very relaxing, and just like a Russian vapour-bath. The Red Sea was still visible to the east of us; to the west, a large tract of desert, backed up by impassable rocky mountains. We now saw desert gazelles for the first time, and one of the party brought one down, thus providing dinner for the evening. We marched from 9 a.m. until 6 p.m., came to water then, and pitched our tents near to it. We generally had very good water, but here it had a brackish taste; still, with the aid of four bottles of champagne, we managed to slake our thirst tolerably well. So far the mimosa and kittar bushes were abundant, particularly during the first two days, but on the fourth day we saw very few indeed, and marched through absolute desert, saw nothing but the burning sands, and huge rocks of volcanic origin. We filled our barrels, zanzimeers and girbas with water before we started, and again marched from ten till six; temp. 81° in the shade. A girba is the skin of a gazelle dressed. It is dressed in the following way by the Arabs:—They get the chopped red bark of the mimosa tree, and put in the skin with water, it is allowed to remain there for three or four days and then it is converted into leather. This day we encamped at a place called Settareb. On the fifth day we again made the usual march, and shot two gazelles. We started off at nine—and left the caravan to follow. About 11 a.m. one of our servants caught us up with the information that some of the camels had been lost. Messrs. A. and W. James returned to see about them, and found that it was a dodge of the camel-drivers, who thought they would try to sneak back to Souâkin. The camels were easily found; the two camel-drivers were tied together, marched into camp, duly admonished and punished. At 5 p.m. we come to water, turn out all the brackish water, fill our barrels, &c., and march until 6 p.m.; temp. 82° in shade. Dine at 7.30, bed at 10 p.m., but before going to bed we had all the camel-drivers up, some of whom appeared inclined to be mutinous. We gave them a sound lecturing, and let them distinctly understand that we would not stand this kind of thing any more, and that the next offence would be punished with the coorbatch. Our camping ground is called Wadi Osier. The next day, our sixth in the desert, Mr. F. L. James and I had a somewhat unpleasant experience. After luncheon, as usual, we all rested awhile, allowing the caravan to go on. Mr. F. L. J. and I, who were absorbed with our books, remained long after our comrades had proceeded on their journey. When at last we did start, we were surprised to find how late it was getting. Knowing that there is little or no twilight in these parts, we hurried on, hoping to catch the caravan ere darkness overtook us, but could not do so. Darkness comes on—a most profound darkness, too—and we lose the track; we dismount and light matches to see if we can find it again. We don’t, however, succeed in doing so. Nothing now remains but to remount our camels and trust to them and Providence. On we go, at the rate of four miles an hour. The silence of the tomb and the darkness of Erebus surround us; not a glimmer of light could be seen in any direction, not the sound of a wild animal, of a bird, or even the rustling of a leaf, or the sigh of the softest zephyr. When we had gone on thus for about an hour, neither seeing a light, nor hearing a sound, we began to get uneasy, not knowing if we were going in the right direction, but knowing full well that it might prove to be a serious matter if we strayed off into the limitless waste of the desert. Every now and again I fired a shot from my revolver, but I might as well have used a pop-gun. Now the stars begin to make their appearance; by them we see that we are, as we think, pursuing some track. We now dismount, and finding that revolvers are useless, Mr. James gets his rifle and lets off one barrel. We wait, and anxiously look for a corresponding flash; hear we could not, as by this time a slight breeze had sprung up, and was blowing from us towards our caravan. Another barrel is now fired, but no reply. We were now rapidly coming to the conclusion that we should have to tie our camels to a mimosa bush, and sleep out without food, and what was still worse, without water, as both our zanzimeers were nearly empty. Still we perseveringly jogged on, and after a time discharged another barrel. In a few minutes’ time we see a slight flash, which appears to be so far off that we cannot make out whether it is in the heavens or on the earth. Not a sound reaches our ears. Our cartridges are also nearly exhausted, and we have all but made up our minds to sleep out, but try the rifle once more. This time both barrels are discharged one after the other. We look out anxiously; not a sound reaches us, but we see a corresponding double flash a long way off, and are convinced that this comes from our camp. We see certain stars over the spot, and for these we steer. When we had jogged on for another hour and a-half, we see a glimmering light like the flicker of a lantern (it really was a huge bonfire)—another half-hour, and we can plainly see lanterns moving about, and to our great relief and that of our friends, we gain the camp at 9 p.m., thoroughly hungry, thirsty, and tired. The temperature this day was 86° in the shade; my ears and nose were quite scorched, and smarting from the heat of the sun.

On arriving in camp I found Jules very ill indeed. On the fourth day he came to me in the evening complaining of a bilious attack. I gave him something for it. In some respects he was better by the evening of the fifth, and on the morning of the 6th bilious vomiting had ceased, but in the evening, judging from the symptoms, I was afraid that formidable complaint, dysentery, was setting in. However, I kept this to myself, at present, not wishing to alarm the camp, and hoping that treatment might prove beneficial. We dined at 10.30, and retired to bed at 12 p.m. When I say we retired to bed I literally mean that, not to a shake-down sort of thing with a rug over me and a portmanteau for a pillow, but a comfortable bed with a comfortable pillow, in a comfortable tent, and cocoa-matting on the ground. There really was an air of comfort about all our surroundings. We had comfortable shut-up and open-out chairs, a comfortable folding-up table, each a nice portable india-rubber bath, and, whenever we encamped by water we each had a bath before breakfast and another before dinner. As for eatables and drinkables, the most fastidious would not turn up their noses at those. We had sufficient champagne and claret to last us during the whole campaign; a freezing machine, so that we could have these iced in the hottest weather. We had gozogenes and any amount of seltzer-water, and when we fell short of that we used Eno’s fruit-salt in the gozogenes. We had Peek Frean and Co’s. biscuits, Cross and Blackwell’s excellent Chutnee pickles and pickalili, tomato sauce, asparagus, green peas, plum puddings, French jams, minced collops, kidneys, tinned soups from Fortnum and Mason’s, Piccadilly, and everything else one could think of to insure comfort in eating, drinking, and sleeping. Some ascetics would say we were of the earth, earthy, but I maintain that if you mean to keep a mens sana in corpore sano one may just as well—and a great deal better—build up the waste tissue from time to time and travel with every comfort, if one can afford it, as do the reverse. I have tried both; whilst campaigning in Turkey, when I have been on the march with the army, I have indulged in the luxury of a small onion and a limited piece of somewhat indifferent bread for breakfast, washed down with a drop of water, the same again for luncheon, and the same again for dinner, “and still I was not happy,” for I could comfortably have disposed of breakfast, luncheon, and dinner at one sitting without the slightest inconvenience. The ground was my bed, the canopy of heaven was my tent, the twinkling stars my lantern, and a stone or water-jug with a coat rolled round it was my pillow. I shall endeavour to avoid the slightest exaggeration in this book, and will go so far as to say that the former mode of travelling is by far the most comfortable, and, in my humble opinion, the most conducive to health.

Again I find myself branching off, and cannot give any guarantee but what I may still do so. All I ask is that my readers will overlook this little failing of mine.

7th day.—We found water here, and of course replenished everything with this valuable fluid. The mimosas were scanty and very stunted here. During the night and all this day a great wind has been blowing, producing a most blinding sand-storm, fortunately at our backs, or we should not have been able to proceed. No one can form any idea of the intense discomfort of a sand-storm, unless he has been in one. I may close up my tent and be roasted inside. I may lock up my portmanteau, which fits pretty closely, and have it in my tent, the lock covered with leather, yet when I go to bed I find the sheets brown with sand, the most secret recesses of my portmanteau and the lock filled with sand, and my writing-case also, which is inside. I open my mouth to speak, and I can masticate sand, if so disposed. I eat—all my food is full of sand. I drink, not water, but water and sand. In fact, sand is everywhere; eyes, nose, mouth, ears, hair, brains, and everything else has a mixture of sand about it. I chance to leave a book, a pair of boots, or anything else outside my tent, they soon become invisible, and are covered inches deep in sand. Here we found great difficulty in pitching our tents, as there was nothing but sand to drive the pegs into, and then we came to rocks. Three or four days ago a lame woman and a man joined our caravan, and two days ago two men, all bound for Kassala, all pilgrims from Mecca. They were allowed to accompany us, and we fed them. To-day we miss the woman, and on inquiry find that she was knocked up en route yesterday, and so her companion left her to die, and probably when we discovered this she had been picked clean by jackals and vultures. Such is the value put upon human life out here.

8th day.—The sand-storm still rages with unabated violence. We decide not to go on, but encamp here to-day. We are, however, obliged to move our tents to a place that is a little more sheltered, as at present it is absolutely miserable. Jules still very ill. Temperature 86° in the shade. In the day time the fierce heat of the sun rendered the interior of the tents like ovens. Outside the sand reflected the heat. Although producing great personal discomfort, our sufferings were nothing to what poor Jules endured, who is now unmistakably suffering from dysentery badly. Under any circumstances this is a grave complaint to have, but under present circumstances, doubly so; that which he requires is impossible to obtain, namely, absolute rest and a suitable diet. The poor fellow complains to-day of incessant thirst, and everything he gets to eat or drink is impregnated with sand, which it is impossible to avoid.

About 12 meridie, Mr. Phillipps, who was passing across the camp, saw the two pilgrims whom we had allowed to join the caravan, two brothers. One was supporting the head of the other in the blazing sun. The poor fellow’s eyes, nose, ears, and hair, &c. were full of sand. He said his brother was ill. I was at once called to him, and found him in articulo mortis. Very little could be done for him, and in twenty minutes’ time he died. His brother borrowed a spade, dug a shallow grave near the camp and buried him, putting a mound of little white stones on the grave. In my journey across the desert I frequently came across these graves, sometimes two or three together, sometimes 20, 50, or 100. Occasionally skeletons of camels were met with. In the present instance, the poor fellow who died looked very emaciated and weak, probably exhausted by constant marching and a deficient supply of food. But he had accomplished the pilgrimage to Mecca, and I suppose he died a happy man.

9th day.—Poor Jules is so ill to-day that I cannot consent to have him removed. The camp is accordingly split up, Mr. Phillipps and I, with a few camels and attendants, remaining behind. The sand-storm is abating, but the heat is very great and trying to Jules. A gazelle was shot to-day. I cannot say that gazelle is a particularly toothsome morsel under our circumstances. We are obliged to cook it on the same day that it has been killed. The flesh of a desert gazelle is hard, and has very little flavour. Our comrades left us about 10 a.m., and directly they had gone down came the vultures for pickings.

10th day.—Jules still very ill, but in some respects a trifle better. We decide on advancing to-day, if possible, and encamp a little longer when we get to water. Accordingly we strike our tents and help the camel men to load, send them on, then see to our own. We do not get off until 4.30 p.m. Half-an-hour afterwards we come to a dry river course, on each side of which are dhoum palms and other trees. We saw a couple of jackals sneaking off here, but did not get a shot at them. We trusted to one of our Arabs to show us the way. When we had gone on for about an hour, he suddenly stopped in the middle of a great sandy plain, said he was not sure of the way, and as it was getting dark, thought we had better stop until daylight. On hearing this Mr. Phillipps retraced his steps, and was absent about two hours. I now became anxious about him, and every now and then fired off my revolver. Fortunately I happened to have a box of matches with me, and kindled a fire, then Mahoom and I tore up all the stuff that would ignite. Half-an-hour afterwards Mr. Phillipps found us, but he had been unsuccessful in his search for the road. However, we kept up the fire, hoping some of our camel men would see the signals of distress, which fortunately they did after a time; at last one of them found us. In the meantime Jules was lying on the ground exhausted, with a rug thrown over him. Our man led us to where the other camels were. Now we had another bother: one of the camels had thrown his load off; the old fellow who was in charge was lying on the ground, said he had got a pain in his stomach, and we must stop there, as he could not possibly go on. We roused him up, gave him a good shaking, and made him come on. But he soon stopped again, and laid down to sleep, most coolly saying he could not go any further. The fact is that just before we started he had eaten a large quantity of raw meat, had, in fact, thoroughly gorged himself. However, there we left him, and went on another two or three miles. Halted at 10 p.m. and kindled a fire, had a cup of cocoa, a bit of bread, rolled ourselves up in rugs, and lay on the ground. Jules suffered much from this, as the nights were so cold.

11th day.—Up early, feeling stiff, cold, and hungry. Marched until 10 a.m. (four hours), intending to rest during the excessive heat of the day, as my poor invalid was almost too weak to set up. About 3 p.m. Mr. F. L. James appears on the scene, and tells us that the camp is only about four miles off, at a place called Waudy. We get there about 6.30 p.m., and find the camp pitched near a well surrounded by dhoum palms. Temperature to-day, 88° in the shade. This being Christmas Day, we had some excellent plum puddings, made by Crosse and Blackwell, iced champagne, and other luxuries for dinner.

12th day.—Jules was very ill indeed to-day, thoroughly prostrated by his complaint, which had increased in intensity—it was quite out of the question for him to attempt to move. We held a council, and decided that as there were a few huts and goats, and a well, that it would be advisable to let Jules rest here awhile, for now we could get a little milk for him twice a day. Accordingly on the 13th day the camp was split up. Messrs. A. and W. James, Colvin, and Aylmer went on to Kassala, whilst Jules, Messrs. Phillipps, F. L. James, and I remained behind. Here we rested for five days, and what with treatment, diet, and rest Jules improved daily.

On the 16th day we rigged up an augarip (a kind of litter), with an awning of matting and palm leaves to keep off the sun, and on the 17th day this was slung across a camel. Jules got into it, and off we started at 7.30 a.m., marching until 7.30 p.m. Much too long a journey for Jules, who was again thoroughly knocked up and exhausted. I suggested now that such marches were too long, and that our best plan was for me to start off early with Jules, say 6 a.m., and march until 10, then rest until 4 and go on until 7 or 8 p.m. This was agreed to.

18th day. January 1st, 1883.—I visited Jules at 6 a.m.; found him no worse. We started at 8, halt at 12, rest until 2, and go on until we catch up the caravan, at 8.30 p.m. Jules complained bitterly of these long journeys, which were so exhausting to an invalid. Medicine was now out of the question, as the rolling motion of the camel made him very sick. At the mid-day halt we found some empty huts in the desert. These we explored, and found rather interesting. In several of them I found a hole in the floor, the use of which is rather singular. The good wife of the house uses this. She gets certain fragrant barks and frankincense, burns them in the hole, then stands over them, having her dress drawn round her, to fumigate herself and make herself acceptable to her husband. In England, of course, this is not at all necessary. We passed through a fine palm-grove to-day by a khor, and shot three gazelles.

19th day.—March again about 12 hours. Jules worse. Again I pointed out the bad effect of these long marches on the invalid.

20th day.—Ten hours’ march to-day; halt near a deep well and a large palm-grove. Here I shot a fine golden-crested eagle. Jules frightfully done up, and rapidly going the wrong way.

21st day.—On the march at 9 a.m. We marched the greater part of this day across an awful desert, where no living thing except ourselves could be seen. No shelter was attainable for the mid-day lunch. Temperature 92° in what shade we could manufacture. During several hours of the day I saw that optical illusion which so often mocks the thirsty traveller, called the mirage—mirage, called by the Arabs, Bahr esh Sheitan, “The Devil’s Sea.” By a strange refraction of the atmosphere, plains of arid sands seem to be rippling lakes of water as far as the eye can reach, lapping the base of stupendous mountains of rocks, and bathing the roots of the stunted mimosa bushes. This day marched nearly 14 hours. Jules takes scarcely anything, is rapidly sinking, and again complains of these long marches.

22nd day.—Another 12 hours’ march. See mirage again for hours. Encamp at Fillick. Here there is a military station and a telegraph office.

23rd day.—Mirage again. Shot two gazelles, four bustards, and five guinea-fowl. Appear to be getting into a better country. Jules much weaker, pulse scarcely perceptible. Ten hours’ march to-day.

24th day.—Eleven hours’ march to-day, and, I am thankful to say, the last day’s march across the desert. Temperature 93° in the shade. Since 11 a.m. we have travelled through much better country, and after our late experience it was quite refreshing to see a luxuriant vegetation once more, such as dhoum palms, colocynth, tamarisks, nebbucks, heglecks—not stunted mimosa bushes now, but different kinds of mimosa trees and various trees and shrubs. The place I am speaking of was quite like a gentleman’s park. Here also were ariels, gazelles, bustards, parroquets, eagles, vultures, and jackals. About seven, and pitch-dark, we, for the first time, heard the roar of a lion not far off. Our sensations were of a creepy character, and would, perhaps, have been more so had we known what we did when we got to Kassala—that he had lately dined, at separate times, on four human beings.

CHAPTER XI.

ARRIVED AT KASSALA—DESCRIPTION OF KASSALA—WE BUY CAMELS AND HORSES—THE MUDIR GIVES A DINNER—JULES’ DEATH AND BURIAL—HYÆNAS—ARAB PATIENTS—MAHOOM’S HISTORY—DEMETRIUS MOSCONAS ON SLAVERY—MENAGERIE AT KASSALA.

We arrived at Kassala at 8 p.m., and found the camp pitched about a quarter of a mile, or less, from it, close to a garden full of fine trees of various kinds; in fact, between this garden and a very wide river bed. This river is here called the Gash, but nearer to Abyssinia it is called the Mareb. Jules’ exhaustion and pulseless condition was most alarming. I succeeded in obtaining some eggs and milk; these I mixed with brandy, and had this mixture administered to him every half-hour.

Whilst we were dining, at 9 p.m., we heard the peculiar cry of hyænas, which literally swarm round the camp at night and make an awful row. I daresay there would be 150 or 200 come round every night after dark, and when we retired to our tents, and the lights were put out, they would not only come close to, but actually into the camp; I can assure the reader that I am not, as it is called, drawing the long bow when I say that I have seen one poke his head in at my tent door more than once. We remained here many days, and sometimes the hyænas would be so troublesome and noisy that it was a by no means uncommon thing for one of us to get up in the night, go to the edge of the camp in our night-shirt and discharge the contents of one or two barrels into the noisy crowd. This had a quieting effect, and we often found one or two dead hyænas in the morning, the rest having scampered off.

We found Kassala a very warm place, for in the middle of January the thermometer registered 90° in the shade. It is situated about 1,900 feet above the level of the sea, is surrounded by a wall made of mud bricks baked in the sun, and plastered over with mud and the refuse of cows. The wall is loop-holed for musketry, and surrounded by a deep fosse. The exports of the Soudan are ivory, hides, gum arabic, senna, bees’ wax, and honey—the latter obtained chiefly from the Abyssinian border.

The Kassala Mountain, which is just outside Kassala, is an enormous, almost perpendicular, mass of granite, several thousand feet in height, rising straight out of the plain, and can be seen for many miles in all directions. The population was in 1882, something like 25,000, without reckoning the garrison, which consisted of about 1,000 Nubian troops.

There are large numbers of cows, goats, sheep, and camels in the neighbourhood, and a great deal of camel-breeding is carried on here.

When I left England, the thought occurred to me that it would be a good idea to take out some knives, razors, beads, and so forth, both as presents and for barter. I, therefore, provided myself with some common knives, about a dozen of a better class, and half-dozen hunting-knives from Mr. T. B. Hague, of Sheffield; a couple of dozen of Mappin and Webb’s, and Heiffer’s shilling razors, which were much prized by the Arabs. These I found very useful at Kassala, as I bartered some of them for a dozen beautiful long ostrich feathers, and a handful of shorter ones. The natives were well pleased, and so was I.

January 8th.—We were now comfortably encamped, but, alas! too late for Jules, who was fearfully emaciated and prostrate. I visited his tent twice in the night, at one and four o’clock, but could do very little more for him, and I fear he will soon go. All the camels that we hired at Souâkin will have to return there with their drivers. One reason our friends preceded us to Kassala was to let it be known that we wanted to buy or hire camels. The result was not exactly what we anticipated, for they kept them back awhile. When at last they were brought for inspection, the most extravagant prices were demanded, whilst many of them were absolute screws. We also required a few little horses for hunting purposes; the dealers were as knowing as horse-dealers in England, and that is saying a great deal.

January 9th.—Jules is evidently sinking fast. I visited his tent five times in the night, but could do little for him beyond giving him drink twice. Mr. W. James and Mr. Aylmer had taken lessons in photography before leaving England, and were each provided with a good apparatus. With these they took many interesting views in different parts of the country. This day the Mudir (Governor) of Kassala sent his two little boys and ponies to be photographed. Whilst we were at breakfast to-day an Arab brought two playful little leopards, which he had stolen from their nest. I could have bought them for a couple of dollars each, and probably should have done so had I been on my way home. The Mudir paid us a visit at noon, inviting us all to dine with him; but Mr. Phillipps and I could not go on account of Jules’s illness, which now will be of short duration. I understood afterwards from those who did go that the dinner consisted of 15 or 18 courses. About 5 p.m. I visited Jules, and found him asleep, but evidently sinking. Mahoom, who was my servant during the whole campaign—and a very good boy he was, too—attended well to him, and frequently sat up at nights with him. At 10 p.m. poor Jules breathed his last. The particulars of his illness, together with other curious and interesting medical notes, can be found in an article of mine in the British Medical Journal, September 23rd and 30th, 1882. As soon as he was dead I washed and laid him out. M. Demetrius Mosconas, a Greek living in Kassala, was good enough to at once see about some kind of coffin, covered with black cloth, shaped thus—

This was to be sent early in the morning.

January 10th.—At 10 a.m. the coffin was brought. Jules was put in it. On the corpse were laid sprays of green shrubs all round. At 11.30 he was carried to his last resting-place by natives, all of us following; the Union Jack being placed on the coffin. The weather was fearfully hot, and the roads very dusty. He was buried in a garden where three other Christians had been buried. Mr. F. L. James read the burial service, and we remained by the grave until it was filled up, which was very quickly done in the following manner: The earth had been thrown up each side of the grave, eight Arabs stood each side with their backs to the grave, and as soon as the word was given they, with their hands, pushed the earth between their legs, filling the grave within about ten minutes. A cross was afterwards made of ebony by Mr. Phillipps, and placed at the head of the grave. This concluded our last duty to poor Jules.

When we returned to camp, four horses and four camels were bought; after lunch Messrs. Colvin and A. James, with Suleiman and a few servants, started off for the Atbara in quest of camels, as these people were holding theirs back in the hopes of making a good thing by so doing. Korasi, on the Atbara, is considered one of the cheapest and best places to buy camels.

January 11th.—Soon after my arrival at Kassala it became known that there was a “Hakeem Ingelese,” as they called me, and I very soon found that my patients daily increased in number. Every morning after breakfast there was I, wearing my pith helmet, in the broiling sun, with Mahoom as interpreter, for two hours or more attending to a large number of Arabs—men, women, and children—who squatted round my tent on their haunches in a semicircle. I frequently saw 60, 70, or 80 patients a day. I did not charge them anything; probably, had I done so I should have materially thinned out the applicants for medical and surgical relief. It is a strange thing, but human nature is (in some respects) pretty much the same in Central Africa as it is in England.

Ali Mahoom’s history, poor boy, was not, in early life, a very bright one, as he was stolen by the slave-dealers. He said—