and and
calls me his mother quite 'natural like'--you see colour is no barrier
here.

The weather is glorious this year, and in spite of some fatigue I am
extremely well and strong, and have hardly any cough at all. I am so
sorry that the young Rothschild was so hard to Er-Rasheedee and that his
French doctor refused to come and see him. It makes bad blood naturally.
However, the German doctors were most kind and helpful.

The festival of Abu-l-Hajjaj was quite a fine sight, not splendid at
all--_au contraire_--but spirit-stirring; the flags of the Sheykh borne
by his family chanting, and the men tearing about in mimic fight on
horseback with their spears. My acquaintance of last year,
Abd-el-Moutovil, the fanatical Sheykh from Tunis was there. At first he
scowled at me. Then someone told him how Rothschild had left
Er-Rasheedee, and he held forth about the hatred of all the unbelievers
to the Muslims, and ended by asking where the sick man was. A quaint
little smile twinkled in Sheykh Yussuf's soft eyes and he curled his
silky moustache as he said demurely, 'Your Honour must go and visit him
at the house of the English Lady.' I am bound to say that the Pharisee
'executed himself handsomely, for in a few minutes he came up to me and
took my hand and even hoped I would visit the tomb of Abu-l-Hajjaj with
him!!

Since I wrote last I have been rather poorly--more cough, and most
wearing sleeplessness. A poor young Englishman died here at the house of
the Austrian Consular agent. I was too ill to go to him, but a kind,
dear young Englishwoman, a Mrs. Walker, who was here with her family in a
boat, sat up with him three nights and nursed him like a sister. A young
American lay sick at the same time in the house, he is now gone down to
Cairo, but I doubt whether he will reach it alive. The Englishman was
buried on the first day of Ramadan where they bury strangers, on the site
of a former Coptic church. Archdeacon Moore read the service; Omar and I
spread my old flag over the bier, and Copts and Muslims helped to carry
the poor stranger. It was a most impressive sight. The party of
Europeans, all strangers to the dead but all deeply moved; the group of
black-robed and turbaned Copts; the sailors from the boats; the gaily
dressed dragomans; several brown-shirted fellaheen and the thick crowd of
children--all the little Abab'deh stark naked and all behaving so well,
the expression on their little faces touched