s nation. Then, in a passage
which rings down the years in its terrible beauty, she tells of her
utter despair, lying in the gloomy Underworld, suffocated with the mummy
bandages, and craving for the light, the laughter, and the coolness of
the day.

"The water of life," she cries, "with which every mouth
is moistened, is corruption to me, the water that is by
me corrupteth me. I know not what to do since I came into
this valley. Give me running water, say to me, 'Water
shall not cease to be brought to thee.' Turn my face to
the north wind upon the edge of the water. Verily thus
shall my heart be cooled and refreshed from its pain."

It is, however, the glory of life, rather than the horror of death,
which is the dominant note in the inscriptions and reliefs. The scenes
in the tomb decorations seem to cry out for very joy. The artist has
imprisoned in his representations as much sheer happiness as was ever
infused into cold stone. One sees there the gazelle leaping over the
hills as the sun rises, the birds flapping their wings and singing, the
wild duck rising from the marshes, and the butterflies flashing
overhead. The fundamental joy of living--that gaiety of life which the
human being may feel in common with the animals--is shown in these
scenes as clearly as is the merriment in the representations of feasts
and dancing. In these paintings and reliefs one finds an exact
illustration to the joyful exhortation of the Psalmist as he cries, "Let
the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad; ... let the fields be
joyful, and all that is therein." In a land where, to quote one of their
own poems, "the tanks are full of water and the earth overflows with
love," where "the cool north wind" blows merrily over the fields, and
the sun never ceases to shine, it would be a remarkable phenomenon if
the ancient Egyptians had not developed the sanguine temperament. The
foregoing pages have shown them at their feasts, in their daily
occupations, and in their sports, and the reader will find that it is
not difficult to describe them, in the borrowed words of the old
geographer, as a people always gay and often frivolous, and
never-ceasingly "fond of dancing and red wine."

CHAPTER V.

THE MISFORTUNES OF WENAMON.

In the third chapter of this book it has been shown that the
archaeologist is, to some extent, enamoured of the Past beca