brought the refreshing fragrance of
the sea, and the slender palm-trees that bordered the canal threw long
shadows mingling with the massive shade of the sycamores. The road was
astir with busy groups, birds sang in the trees, and the old musician
drank in the exciting and aromatic atmosphere of the Egyptian Spring
with keen enjoyment.

As they reached the middle of the steep bridge across the canal he
involuntarily stood still, riveted by the view of the southwest. In his
excitement he threw up his arms, his eyes glistened with moisture and
with the enthusiasm of youth, and, as was always the case when his
emotions were stirred by some glorious work of God or man, an image rose
to his mind, all unbidden--the image of his eldest son, now dead, but
in life his closest and most sympathetic comrade. He felt as though
his hand could grasp the shoulder of that son, too early snatched away,
whose gifts had far transcended those of the surviving Orpheus--as
though he too could gaze with him on the grand scene that lay before
him.

On a platform of rocks and mighty masonry rose a structure of wonderful
magnificence and beauty, so brilliantly illuminated by the morning
sun that its noble proportions and gorgeous colors showed in dazzling
splendor and relief. Over the gilt dome bent the cloudless blue of the
African sky, and the polished hemisphere shone, as radiant as the sun
whose beams it reflected. Sloping planes for vehicles, and flights
of steps for pedestrians led up to the gates. The lower part of this
wonderful edifice--the great Temple of Serapis--was built to stand
forever, and the pillars of the vestibule supported a roof more fitted
to the majesty of the gods than to the insignificance of mortals;
priests and worshippers moved here like children among the trunks of
some gigantic forest. Round the cornice, in hundreds of niches, and on
every projection, all the gods of Olympus and all the heroes and sages
of Greece seemed to have met in conclave, and stood gazing down on the
world in gleaming brass or tinted marble. Every portion of the building
blazed with gold and vivid coloring; the painter's hand had added life
to the marble groups in high relief that filled the pediments and the
smaller figures in the long row of metopes. All the population of a town
might have found refuge in the vast edifice and its effect on the mind
was like that of a harmonious symphony of adoration sung by a chorus of
giants.

"All hai