n the other hand, I had nowhere seen a more spacious square than
the Esbekie-place in Cairo. The square in Padua is perhaps the only
one that can compare with it in point of size; but this place looks
like a complete chaos. Miserable houses and ruined huts surround
it; and here and there we sometimes come upon a part of an alley or
an unfinished canal. The centre is very uneven, and is filled with
building materials, such as stones, wood, bricks, and beams. The
largest and handsomest house in this square is remarkable as having
been inhabited by Napoleon during his residence at Cairo: it is now
converted into a splendid hotel.

Herr Chamgion, the consul, was kind enough to send me a card of
invitation for the theatre. The building looks like a private
house, and contains a gallery capable of accommodating three or four
hundred people; this gallery is devoted to the use of the ladies.
The performers were all amateurs; they acted an Italian comedy in a
very creditable manner. The orchestra comprised only four
musicians. At the conclusion of the second act the consul's son, a
boy of twelve years, played some variations on the violin very
prettily.

The women, all natives of the Levant, were very elegantly dressed;
they wore the European garb, white muslin dresses with their hair
beautifully braided and ornamented with flowers. Nearly all the
women and girls were handsome, with complexions of a dazzling
whiteness, which we rarely see equalled in Europe. The reason of
this is, perhaps, that they always stay in their houses, and avoid
exposing themselves to the sun and wind.

The following day I visited the abode of the howling dervishes, in
whom I took a lively interest since I had seen their brethren at
Constantinople. The hall, or rather the mosque, in which they
perform their devotions is very splendid. I was not allowed here to
stand among the men as I had done at Constantinople, but was
conducted to a raised gallery, from which I could look down through
a grated window.

The style of devotion and excitement of these dervishes is like that
I had witnessed at Constantinople, without being quite so wild in
its character. Not one of them sank exhausted, and the screeching
and howling were not so loud. Towards the end of their performance
many of the dervishes seized a small tambourine, on which they beat
and produced a most diabolical music.

In the slave-market there was but a meagre selection; all the