and wonderful Theban capital.

Here many days were passed, investigating tombs and temples of all
shapes and sizes; great and wonderful hieroglyphics were explained,
though these left the trooper cold. They rode on donkeys deep into the
deserts, followed by Sudanese guards on fine Arab steeds.

From Luxor they duly departed in the direction of Assuan. The direct
distance was not over-long, but the day was blazing hot, the railway
was badly constructed, and the sand filtered steadily into the cars.
It was a comic-opera railway, this narrow-gauge line. The contract for
its construction was let at an exceedingly profitable rate per mile to
a French company. More miles meant more money, so naturally they spun
the thing out and consequently for no apparent reason, the line zigzags
across perfectly level stretches of desert.

Assuan at last. Great nabobs bowed; Mac saluted. The honoured guests
would take the State gharries to their hotel? No? Walk! Impossible!
Great people did not walk. It took much gentle persuasion to convey to
the Mahmoudieh--the Governor of the Province--that the guests wished to
take exercise, now that the cool of the evening was come. His
Excellency was a gentleman of portly proportions, who, at some other
period, may have walked. Despite his dimensions, he was agile and
graceful in his sweeping salaams; when he spoke he emphasized every
word with an appropriate sweep of the arm, and his eyebrows arched and
his eyes bulged in superlative, ecstatic moments. The tassel of his
tarboosh, a little red inverted flowerpot capping the summit, gyrated
violently in moments of excitement. Altogether he was a mighty person.
Perceiving this, the five great ones from the far south paid court to
him, addressed him "Your Excellency this" and "Your Excellency that";
and paid tribute to his lands, to his people, and his province, and
expressed a desire to see his wives. The Mahmoudieh visibly swelled
with pleasure.

Assuan was duly investigated. Much like Luxor, it consisted of a
terrace along the river-bank, of hotels, some clean and comfortable,
some Greek; foreign consulates and banks. Gardens, shaded by palms and
lebbak-trees, made this portion of the town quite habitable. Behind,
on the rising sand-dunes, lay the crowded, stifling mass of native
dwellings, to visit which one's heart must be strong. Bazaars might be
artistic and unique, but as their quaintness and picturesqueness
increased so