t like the Cape diamond sunshine at all, but
equally beautiful, hotter and less dazzling. There is no glare in Egypt
like in the South of France, and, I suppose, in Italy.

_Thursday_.--I went yesterday afternoon to the island again to see the
crops, and show Sally my friend farmer Omar's house and Mustapha's
village. Of course we had to eat, and did not come home till the moon
had long risen. Mustapha's brother Abdurachman walked about with us,
such a noble-looking man, tall, spare, dignified and active, grey-bearded
and hard-featured, but as lithe and bright-eyed as a boy, scorning any
conveyance but his own feet, and quite dry while we 'ran down.' He was
like Boaz, the wealthy gentleman peasant--nothing except the Biblical
characters gave any idea of the rich _fellah_. We sat and drank new milk
in a 'lodge in a garden of cucumbers' (the 'lodge' is a neat hut of palm
branches), and saw the moon rise over the mountains and light up
everything like a softer sun. Here you see all colours as well by
moonlight as by day; hence it does not look as brilliant as the Cape
moon, or even as I have seen in Paris, where it throws sharp black
shadows and white light. The night here is a tender, subdued, dreamy
sort of enchanted-looking day. My Turkish acquaintance from Karnac has
just been here; he boasted of his house in Damascus, and invited me to go
with him after the harvest here, also of his beautiful wife in Syria, and
then begged me not to mention her to his wives here.

It is very hot now; what will it be in June? It is now 86 degrees in my
shady room at noon; it will be hotter at two or three. But the mornings
and evenings are delicious. I am shedding my clothes by degrees;
stockings are unbearable. Meanwhile my cough is almost gone, and the
pain is quite gone. I feel much stronger, too; the horrible feeling of
exhaustion has left me; I suppose I must have salamander blood in my body
to be made lively by such heat. Sally is quite well; she does not seem
at all the worse at present.

_Saturday_.--This will go to-morrow by some travellers, the last winter
swallows. We went together yesterday to the Tombs of the Kings on the
opposite bank. The mountains were red-hot, and the sun went down into
Amenti all on fire. We met Mr. Dummichen, the German, who is living in
the temple of Dayr el-Bahree, translating inscriptions, and went down
Belzoni's tomb. Mr. Dummichen translated a great many things for us
which w