so lovely
that I cannot refrain from recurring to the subject. While you are
shivering under the blasts of winter, we have a genuine June morning:
the air soft and pure, the atmosphere clear, innumerable birds chirping
in the trees opposite the windows, (for the Arabs never interfere with
birds,) and the aspect of things from our balcony overlooking the
Esbekieh, or public square, as pleasant as one could wish. The beautiful
weather, too, is constant.

But I must tell you of my dining yesterday with Mrs. R., to meet Mr.
Buckle, the author of the History of Civilization, who has just returned
from his two or three months' voyage upon the Nile, in which he pushed
as far as Nubia. He is now staying for a little while in Cairo, or
rather in his _dahabieh_, or boat, (which he says is more comfortable
than any hotel,) moored in the river at Boolak, the port of the town.
Mrs. R., the daughter of Lady Duff Gordon, and granddaughter of Mrs.
Austin, is a most attractive and accomplished young lady; her husband is
the manager in Egypt of the great banking-house of Briggs and Company,
in which he is a partner. Their usual residence is at Alexandria; but
at this season "all the world" of Egypt comes to Cairo, to enjoy the
beautiful weather here, while it is raining incessantly in Alexandria,
only a hundred and thirty miles distant. Mrs. R. in asking Mr. Thayer,
our Consul-General, to meet Mr. Buckle, with very great kindness
included me in the invitation. The only other lady present was Miss
P., a niece of the late Countess of Blessington, herself the author
of several pleasant stories, and of a poem which gained a prize in
competition with one by Mrs. Browning and another by Owen Meredith: she
is spending the winter with Mrs. R. There were also present C., who
conducts the house of Briggs and Company in Cairo; O., another banker;
and Hekekyan Bey, an Armenian, a well-read and intelligent man, formerly
Minister of Public Instruction under Mehemet Ali, and still, I believe,
in receipt of a pension from the Viceroy's government, in consideration
of his public services, which have been valuable.

The dinner was at an hotel called the Restaurant d'Auric. We assembled
in Mrs. R.'s drawing-room, an apartment in the banking-house at a little
distance, and walked to the hotel. The company fell into two groups,
each lighted by a swarthy _boab_ or lackey carrying a _mushal_ or
lantern; and I happened to walk with Mr. Buckle, so that I had a