ions
are most powerful, to infuse life into a thing so utterly dead as an
embalmed body; and this fact is partly responsible for that atmosphere
of stark, melancholy, sobriety and aloofness which surrounds the affairs
of ancient Egypt. In reading these verses, it is imperative for their
right understanding that the mummies and their resting-places should be
banished from the thoughts. It is not always a simple matter for the
student to rid himself of the atmosphere of the museum, where the beads
which should be jangling on a brown neck are lying numbered and labelled
on red velvet; where the bird-trap, once the centre of such feathered
commotion, is propped up in a glass case as "D, 18,432"; and where even
the document in which the verses are written is the lawful booty of the
grammarian and philologist in the library. But it is the first duty of
an archaeologist to do away with that atmosphere.

Let those who are untrammelled then, pass out into the sunshine of the
Egyptian fields and marshes, where the wild duck cry to each other as
they scuttle through the tall reeds. Here in the early morning comes our
songstress, and one may see her as clearly as one can that Shulamite of
King Solomon's day, who has had the good fortune to belong to a land
where stones and bones, being few in number, do not endanger the
atmosphere of the literature. One may see her, her hair moving in the
breeze "as a flock of goats that appear from Mount Gilead"; her teeth
white "as a flock of shorn sheep which came up from the washing," and
her lips "like a thread of scarlet." Through such imaginings alone can
one appreciate the songs, or realise the lightness of the manner in
which they were sung.

With such a happy view of life amongst the upper classes as is
indicated by their philosophy, and with that merry disposition amongst
the peasants which shows itself in their love of song, it is not
surprising to find that asceticism is practically unknown in ancient
Egypt before the time of Christ. At first sight, in reflecting on the
mysteries and religious ceremonies of the nation, we are apt to endow
the priests and other participators with a degree of austerity wholly
unjustified by facts. We picture the priest chanting his formulae in the
dim light of the temple, the atmosphere about him heavy with incense;
and we imagine him as an anchorite who has put away the things of this
world. But in reality there seems to have been not even such a thing