he occurrence of
occasional "howlers" in the exposition of their theories.

There are three main arguments which may be set forward to induce
Egyptologists to come as often as possible to Egypt, and to urge their
students to do so, instead of educating the mind to the habit of working
at home.

Firstly, the study of archaeology in the open helps to train the young
men in the path of health in which they should go. Work in the Egyptian
desert, for example, is one of the most healthy and inspiring pursuits
that could be imagined; and study in the shrines overlooking the Nile,
where, as at Gebel Silsileh, one has to dive into the cool river and
swim to the sun-scorched scene of one's work, is surely more
invigorating than study in the atmosphere of the British Museum. A
gallop up to the Tombs of the Kings puts a man in a readier mood for a
morning's work than does a drive in an omnibus along Tottenham Court
Road; and he will feel a keenness as he pulls out his note-book that he
can never have experienced in his western city. There is, moreover, a
certain amount of what is called "roughing it" to be endured by the
archaeologist in Egypt; and thus the body becomes toughened and prepared
for any necessary spurt of work. To rough it in the open is the best
medicine for tired heads, as it is the finest tonic for brains in a
normal condition.

In parenthesis an explanation must be given of what is meant here by
that much misunderstood condition of life which is generally known as
"roughing it." A man who is accustomed to the services of two valets
will believe that he is roughing it when he is left to put the diamond
studs in his evening shirts with his own fingers; and a man who has
tramped the roads all his life will hardly consider that he is roughing
it when he is outlawed upon the unsheltered moors in late autumn. The
degree of hardship to which I refer lies between these two extremes. The
science of Egyptology does not demand from its devotees a performance of
many extreme acts of discomfort; but, during the progress of active
work, it does not afford many opportunities for luxurious
self-indulgence, or for any slackness in the taking of exercise.

As a protest against the dilettante antiquarian (who is often as
objectionable a character as the unwashed scholar) there are certain
archaeologists who wear the modern equivalent of a hair shirt, who walk
abroad with pebbles in their shoes, and who speak of the sitting upon