e a Mohawk
Indian. Everything appeared poverty-stricken, and it was a relief when
the time came for us to take our seats in the dilapidated cars and leave
the place.

Zagazig was reached the same afternoon, and though not so populous a
place as Suez was much more alive and thrifty. This settlement is also
an outgrowth of M. de Lesseps' enterprise, but it does not present any
aspect of its mushroom growth, giving one the impression of a place well
selected as a settlement, and which had increased slowly and
permanently. We were now bound directly to Cairo, which is situated
nearly two hundred miles from Suez. The first twenty or thirty miles of
the route was through a level desert of sand, scorched, silent, and
deserted, devoid of even a spear of grass or a single tree, the yellow
soil quivering in the heated air. Mile after mile was passed without
meeting one redeeming feature. It was desolation personified. At last we
came gradually upon a gently undulating and beautiful district of
country, enriched by the annual deposits of the Nile, where careful,
intelligent cultivation produced its natural results. Here we began to
see small herds of brown buffaloes, and peasants plying the irrigating
buckets of the shadoof. Everything seemed verdant and thriving. Perhaps
the great contrast between the sterile desert so lately crossed and the
aspect which now greeted us made this really fertile region appear
doubly so. Not since the plains of middle India had we seen anything
forming so fine a rural picture as this. Though it was only the last of
February the clover fields were being mowed, and a second crop would
follow; the barley and wheat were nearly ready for the sickle, while
the peas and beans, both in full blossom, were picturesque and fragrant.
As we progressed through this attractive region the pastures became
alive with sheep, goats, many camels, and some dromedaries.

On our way we made a brief stop at the late sanguine field of
Tell-el-Keber, where the English and Turks fought the closing battle of
the late campaign in Egypt. The sandy plain was still strewn with the
debris of hastily deserted camps, and not far away was that significant
spot which war leaves always in its track,--an humble cemetery, marked
by many small white stones, showing the last resting-places of men
unknown to fame, but to whom life was undoubtedly as sweet as it is to
those whose graves the world honors with monumental shafts.

While we wer