waited for him to commence.

"What do you wish me to tell you about?" he said in answer to repeated
requests for him to begin, from several young ladies.

"Oh, tell us a story of second sight, and spiritualism, and all that,
you know," replied a young lady with a doll's face and simpering manner.

"You promised you would," said another.

"True, I promised, but not to-day. This Christmas Day is like Sunday to
you English folk, and I do not wish to mar its sacredness."

"Oh, the Sunday part of it is all ended at twelve o'clock," cried the
young lady who had spoken first. "As soon as church is over we commence
our fun. Do, Mr. Voltaire; we shall be disappointed if you don't."

"I cannot resist the ladies," he said, with a smile, "but you must not
be frightened at my story. For, remember, what I tell you is true. I do
not weave this out of my own brain like your average English novelist
has to do."

I fancied this was directed at me. Not that I deserved the appellation.
I had written only one novel, and that was a very poor one. Still I
fancied I saw his light glittering eyes turned in my direction.

"I must make a sort of apology, too," he went on. "Many of you do not
believe in what will be the very marrow of my story."

"Come, Voltaire, never mind apologies," said Tom Temple; "we are all
anxious to hear it."

"I mentioned last night," said Voltaire, "that I had spent some time in
Egypt up by the Nile. The story I have to tell relates to that part of
the world.

"I had sailed up the Nile, by one of the ordinary river steamers, to a
place called Aboo Simbel, close to the Second Cataract. Here the
ordinary tourist stops, and stops too at the beginning of what really
interests an imaginative mind. There are, however, some fine ruins here
which well repay one for a visit. Ah me! _One_ wishes he had lived three
or four thousand years ago when he stands among those ancient piles.
There was some wisdom then, some knowledge of the deep things of life!
However, I did not stay here. I went with my friend Kaffar away further
into the heart of Nubia.

"I cannot speak highly of the rank and file of the people there. They
are mostly degraded and uncultured, lacking"--here he bowed to the
ladies--"that delightful polish which characterizes those who live in
the West. Still I found some relics of the wisdom of the ancients. One
of the sheiks of a village that lay buried among palm trees was deeply
versed in the things I lo