und wanting. You have the gift of sympathy, even with a woman's
sentimental fancies."

I suspected that a good many men would have developed this precious
quality under the circumstances, but I refrained from saying so. There
is no use in crying down one's own wares. I was glad enough to have
earned her good opinion so easily, and when she at length turned away
from the case and passed through into the adjoining room, it was a very
complacent young man who bore her company.

"Here is Ahkhenaten--or Khu-en-aten, as the authorities here render the
hieroglyphics. She indicated a fragment of a colored relief labeled:
'Portion of a painted stone tablet with a portrait figure of Amen-hotep
IV," and we stopped to look at the frail, effeminate figure of the
great king, with his large cranium, his queer, pointed chin, and the
Aten rays stretching out their weird hands as if caressing him.

"We mustn't stay here if you want to see my uncle's gift, because this
room closes at four to-day." With this admonition she moved on to the
other end of the room, where she halted before a large floor-case
containing a mummy and a large number of other objects. A black label
with white lettering set forth the various contents with a brief
explanation as follows:

"Mummy of Sebek-hotep, a scribe of the twenty-second dynasty, together
with the objects found in the tomb. These include the four Canopic
jars, in which the internal organs were deposited, the Ushabti figures,
tomb provisions and various articles that had belonged to the deceased;
his favorite chair, his head-rest, his ink-palette, inscribed with his
name and the name of the king, Osorkon I, in whose reign he lived, and
other smaller articles. Presented by John Bellingham, Esq."

"They have put all the objects together in one case," Miss Bellingham
explained, "to show the contents of an ordinary tomb of the better
class. You see that the dead man was provided with all his ordinary
comforts; provisions, furniture, the ink-palette that he had been
accustomed to use in writing on papyri, and a staff of servants to wait
on him."

"Where are the servants?" I asked.

"The little Ushabti figures," she answered; "they were the attendants
of the dead, you know, his servants in the under-world. It was a
quaint idea, wasn't it? But it was all very complete and consistent,
and quite reasonable, too, if one once accepts the belief in the
persistence of the individual apart