silence. Then each
draws out his string from a pocket, and they play with their beads for a
moment or two, until, inspiration reviving, they begin talking again.
One hopes that poor Ahmed Mohammed has not been driven to his string too
often as mental support during dumb visits from Anglo-Saxon tourists,
who can do nothing but stare at him. The sheykh's reception-hall is
forty feet wide and sixty feet long. The ceiling, which has the
Saracenic pendentives in the corners and under the beams, is of wood,
gilded and painted and carved in the characteristic style which one
vainly tries to describe. Travellers have likened it to an India shawl;
to me it seemed to approach more nearly the wrong side of a Persian
scarf, which shows the many-hued silken ravellings. The effect, as a
whole, though extraordinarily rich, is yet subdued. The walls are
encrusted with old blue tiles which mount to the top. At one end of the
room there is a beautiful wall-fountain. And now comes the other side of
the story. To enjoy all this beauty, you must not look down; for, alas!
the marble floor is tightly covered with a modern French carpet; chairs
and tables of the most ordinary modern designs have taken the place of
the old divans; and these tables, furthermore, are ornamented with
hideous bouquets of artificial flowers under glass. Finally, the tiles
which have fallen from the lower part of the walls have not been
replaced by others; a coarse fresco has been substituted. What would not
one give to see the sheykh, who is himself a purely Oriental figure,
seated in this splendid hall of his fathers as it once was, on one of
the now superseded divans, the marbles of his floor uncovered save for
his discarded Turkish rugs, the fountain sending forth its rose-water
spray, perfume burning in the silver receivers, and no encumbering
furniture save piles of brocaded cushions and a jar or two on the gilded
shelf.

But we shall never see this. In 1889, 180,594 travellers crossed Egypt
by way of the Suez Canal. In this item of statistics we have the reason.

THE PYRAMIDS

For those who have fair eyesight the pyramids of Gizeh are a part of
Cairo; their gray triangles against the sky are visible from so many
points that they soon become as familiar as a neighboring hill. In
addition, they have been pictured to us so constantly in paintings,
drawings, engravings, and photographs that one views them at first more
with recognition than surprise. "There t