rough and dusty to the extreme, but will be very
pleasant. Mustapha came in just now to offer me the loan of a horse, and
to ask me to go to the mosque in a few nights to see the illumination in
honour of a great Sheykh, a son of Sidi Hosseyn or Hassan. I asked
whether my presence might not offend any Muslimeen, and he would not hear
of such a thing. The sun set while he was here, and he asked if I
objected to his praying in my presence, and went through his four
_rekahs_ very comfortably on my carpet. My next-door neighbour (across
the courtyard all filled with antiquities) is a nice little Copt who
looks like an antique statue himself. I shall _voisiner_ with his
family. He sent me coffee as soon as I arrived, and came to help. I am
invited to El-Moutaneh, a few hours up the river, to visit the Mouniers,
and to Keneh to visit Seyyid Achmet, and also the head of the merchants
there who settled the price of a carpet for me in the bazaar, and seemed
to like me. He was just one of those handsome, high-bred, elderly
merchants with whom a story always begins in the Arabian Nights. When I
can talk I will go and see a real Arab hareem. A very nice English
couple, a man and his wife, gave me breakfast in their boat, and turned
out to be business connections of Ross's, of the name of Arrowsmith; they
were going to Assouan, and I shall see them on their way back. I asked
Mustapha about the Arab young lady, and he spoke very highly of her, and
is to let me know if she comes here and to offer hospitality from me: he
did not know her name--she is called 'el _Haggeh_' (the Pilgrimess).

_Thursday_.--Now I am settled in my Theban palace, it seems more and more
beautiful, and I am quite melancholy that you cannot be here to enjoy it.
The house is very large and has good thick walls, the comfort of which we
feel to-day for it blows a hurricane; but indoors it is not at all cold.
I have glass windows and doors to some of the rooms. It is a lovely
dwelling. Two funny little owls as big as my fist live in the wall under
my window, and come up and peep in, walking on tip-toe, and looking
inquisitive like the owls in the hieroglyphics; and a splendid horus (the
sacred hawk) frequents my lofty balcony. Another of my contemplar gods I
sacrilegiously killed last night, a whip snake. Omar is rather in
consternation for fear it should be 'the snake of the house,' for Islam
has not dethroned the _Dii lares et tutelares_.

I have b