rmur something and make a
dive to get away, but are confronted by a clean-shaven man in glasses.
"When we were here three years ago," he begins, "perhaps my wife has
told you----"

It is rude, but there is nothing for it but to bolt; people like that
would take the effervescence off newly opened champagne! We leave them
confronting each other, and wonder what they do when they are alone
together! Do they force their mixture of guidebook and water on each
other?

[Illustration: THE DAM AT ASSOUAN.]

When we look back upon Egypt these river days will stand out most
clearly, for the glory of them and the interest of them are unfailing.
We have to leave this boat at Assouan, but we shall come back and go
right down the Nile to Cairo on our return journey, so that is something
to look forward to.

At Assouan we are not going to stop but to change on to another steamer,
one belonging to the Government this time, and we shall penetrate
farther into the heart of the land to see something, which, after the
Sphinx, is the most wonderful thing in Egypt.

But we can't step off one steamer on to another, for at Assouan is the
first of the many cataracts that for ages has hindered the navigation of
the Nile. The river, hemmed in between two rocky sides, tears down,
dashing over stones and whirling round corners in a dangerous way. So
the steamer for the upper part of the river waits above the cataract and
we have to make a short train journey of half an hour or so to join it.

Picture the scene at an English railway station of any size, with its
solidly-built platform and its gloomy roof and its row of uniformed
porters drawn up waiting the arrival of the incoming train. I don't
suppose anywhere you could find anything less like this than the station
at Assouan where we await our train this afternoon. There are great palm
trees springing out of the platform itself, not fenced in in any way.
There are masses of scarlet poinsettias growing. And the porters! yes,
they _are_ porters, not criminals waiting to be hanged! There they
stand, a ragged regiment indeed, dressed in any sort of garment that
takes their fancy. Most of them look as if they had collected all the
dish-clouts and dusters which had seen service and piled them on anyhow.
To add to their adornment each man has a double coil of shabby-looking
rope hung round his neck, this is to fasten together the luggage he
hopes to carry. The men are of all sizes and all colours.