it, long or short, and, indeed, consider all such
descriptions a bore.

At present the one fault of Gizeh is the absence of a catalogue. But
catalogues are a mysterious subject, comprehended only by the elect.

[Illustration: THE WOODEN MAN

Gizeh Museum, near Cairo.--According to the chronological table of
Marlette, this statue is over 6000 years old.--From a photograph by
Brugsch Bey]

One day when I was passing the hot hours in the shaded rooms of the
museum, surrounded by seated granite figures with their hands on their
knees (the coolest companions I know), I heard chattering and laughter.
These are unusual sounds in those echoing halls, where unconsciously
everybody whispers, partly because of the echo, and partly also, I
think, on account of the mystic mummy cases which stand on end and look
at one so queerly with their oblique eyes. Presently there came into
view ten or twelve Cairo ladies, followed by eunuchs, and preceded by a
guide. The eunuchs were (as eunuchs generally are) hideous, though they
represented all ages, from a tall lank boy of seventeen to a withered
old creature well beyond sixty. The Cairo eunuchs are negroes; one
distinguishes them always by the extreme care with which they are
dressed. They wear coats and trousers of black broadcloth made in the
latest European style, with patent-leather shoes, and they are decorated
with gold chains, seal rings, and scarf-pins; they have one merit as
regards their appearance--I know of but one--they do look clean. The
ladies were taking their ease; the muffling black silk outer cloaks,
which all Egyptian women of the upper class wear when they leave the
house, had been thrown aside; the white face veils had been loosened so
that they dropped below the chin. It was the hareem of the Minister for
Foreign Affairs; their carriages were waiting below. The most modest of
men--a missionary, for instance, or an entomologist--would, I suppose,
have put them to flight; but as the tourist season was over, and as it
was luncheon-time for Europeans, no one appeared but myself, and the
ladies strayed hither and thither as they chose, occasionally stopping
to hear a few words of the explanations which the guide (a woman also)
was vainly trying to give before each important statue. With one
exception, these Cairo dames were, to say the least, extremely plump;
their bare hands were deeply dimpled, their cheeks round. They all
had the same very white complexion without