nd patience were very touching. We have had a week of piercing winds,
and yesterday I stayed in bed, to the great surprise of Mustapha's little
girl who came to see me. To-day was beautiful again, and I mounted old
Mustapha's cob pony and jogged over his farm with him, and lunched on
delicious sour cream and _fateereh_ at a neighbouring village, to the
great delight of the _fellaheen_. It was more Biblical than ever; the
people were all relations of Mustapha's, and to see Sidi Omar, the head
of the household, and the 'young men coming in from the field,' and the
'flocks and herds and camels and asses,' was like a beautiful dream. All
these people are of high blood, and a sort of 'roll of Battle' is kept
here for the genealogies of the noble Arabs who came in with Amr--the
first Arab conqueror and lieutenant of Omar. Not one of these brown men,
who do not own a second shirt, would give his brown daughter to the
greatest Turkish Pasha. This country _noblesse_ is more interesting to
me by far than the town people, though Omar, who is quite a Cockney, and
piques himself on being 'delicate,' turns up his nose at their beggarly
pride, as Londoners used to do at bare-legged Highlanders. The air of
perfect equality--except as to the respect due to the head of the
clan--with which the villagers treated Mustapha, and which he fully
returned, made it all seem so very gentlemanly. They are not so dazzled
by a little show, and far more manly than the Cairenes. I am on visiting
terms with all the 'county families' resident in Luxor already. The
Nazir (magistrate) is a very nice person, and my Sheykh Yussuf, who is of
the highest blood (being descended from Abu-l-Hajjaj himself), is quite
charming. There is an intelligent little German here as Austrian Consul,
who draws nicely. I went into his house, and was startled by hearing a
pretty Arab boy, his servant, inquire, '_Soll ich den Kaffee bringen_?'
What next? They are all mad to learn languages, and Mustapha begs me and
Sally to teach his little girl Zeyneb English.

_Friday_, 22_nd_.--Yesterday I rode over to Karnac, with Mustapha's
_sais_ running by my side. Glorious hot sun and delicious air. To hear
the _sais_ chatter away, his tongue running as fast as his feet, made me
deeply envious of his lungs. Mustapha joined me, and pressed me to go to
visit the Sheykh's tomb for the benefit of my health, as he and Sheykh
Yussuf wished to say a _Fathah_ for me; but I must no