h the same level outline, now receding in semicircular sweeps;
a narrow flat plain, loaded with crops and palm-groves, and intersected
by canals and dikes, sometimes equally divided by a tortuous stream of
vast breadth, but sometimes thrown, as it were, all to one side, east or
west; occasionally a long line of precipices descending sheer into the
very water; once only a regular defile with rocks on either hand;
islands in the river, sandbanks, broad, winding reaches--such, in a few
words, is a description of Egypt. It is the variety of colour produced
by that mighty painter, the sun, that gives all the beauty to the
landscape; and of this it is almost impossible to convey an idea. The
chaste loveliness of the dawn, the majestic splendour of noon, and the
marvellous glories of the sunset-hour--the thousand hues that glow and
tremble, and melt and mingle around through all the scenes of this great
drama of light--words have not yet been invented to describe.

And then the night! Who can sit down and recall and count over the
impressions which fly like a troop of fairies over the thrilling senses
at that mystic hour, when the skirts of retiring day have ceased to
flutter above the western hills, and the moon casts down her pale,
melancholy glances on the silent scene, and the stars--our guardian
angels, according to some--seem to stoop nearer and nearer to the earth
as slumber deepens, as if to press golden kisses upon the eyelids of
those whom they watch and love! In all countries these hours are
beautiful; but in Egypt--let those who doubt come and witness all that
we beheld, and which is indescribable, on the evening that we left the
neighbourhood of Silsilis on our way to Edfou--on that calm, placid
river, over which brooded a silence interrupted only by the alternate
songs of the crews of the two boats as they leisurely pulled with the
current.

It was late in the afternoon of next day when we reached the
landing-place; but we immediately set out to see the ruin, if ruin it
can be called, for it is almost in perfect preservation. After
traversing a broad extent of ground covered with rank grass and prickly
plants, we came to the customary palm-grove, and then entered what
romancers would probably call the 'good city' of Edfou. It is a
considerable collection of huts, principally constructed of mud,
clustering amidst mounds of rubbish at the base of the temple. The lofty
propylaea, above a hundred feet high, I believ