f almost too glad, and seeking to manifest their gladness. Behind me,
through the columns, peeped some houses of the village: the white home
of Ibrahim Ayyad, the perfect dragoman, grandson of Mustapha Aga, who
entertained me years ago, and whose house stood actually within the
precincts of the temple; houses of other fortunate dwellers in Luxor
whose names I do not know. For the village of Luxor crowds boldly about
the temple, and the children play in the dust almost at the foot of
the obelisks and statues. High on a brown hump of earth a buffalo stood
alone, languishing serenely in the sun, gazing at me through the columns
with light eyes that were full of a sort of folly of contentment. Some
goats tripped by, brown against the brown stone--the dark brown earth of
the native houses. Intimate life was here, striking the note of coziness
of Luxor. Here was none of the sadness and the majesty of Denderah.
Grand are the ruins of Luxor, noble is the line of columns that boldly
fronts the Nile, but Time has given them naked to the air and to the
sun, to children and to animals. Instead of bats, the pigeons fly about
them. There is no dreadful darkness in their sanctuaries. Before them
the life of the river, behind them the life of the village flows and
stirs. Upon them looks down the Minaret of Abu Haggag; and as I sat in
the sunshine, the warmth of which began to lessen, I saw upon its lofty
circular balcony the figure of the muezzin. He leaned over, bending
toward the temple and the statues of Rameses II. and the happy dancers
on the wall. He opened his lips and cried to them:

"God is great. God is great . . . I bear witness that there is no god
but God. . . . I bear witness that Mohammed is the Apostle of God. . . .
Come to prayer! Come to prayer! . . . God is great. God is great. There
is no god but God."

He circled round the minaret. He cried to the Nile. He cried to the
Colossi sitting in their plain, and to the yellow precipices of the
mountains of Libya. He cried to Egypt:

"Come to prayer! Come to prayer! There is no god but God. There is no
god but God."

The days of the gods were dead, and their ruined temple echoed with the
proclamation of the one god of the Moslem world. "Come to prayer! Come
to prayer!" The sun began to sink.

"Sunset and evening star, and one clear call for me."

The voice of the muezzin died away. There was a silence; and then, as if
in answer to the cry from the minaret, I heard the