a rank
papist under the eye of a scowling Shaftesbury Bishop. Then came Osman
Effendi, a young Turk, with a poor devil accused in a distant village of
stealing a letter with money in it addressed to a Greek money-lender.
The discussion was quite general, the man, of course, denying all. But
the Nazir had sent word to beat him. Then Omar burst out, 'What a shame
to beat a poor man on the mere word of a Greek money-lender who eats the
people; the Nazir shouldn't help him.' There was a Greek present who
scowled at Omar, and the Turk gaped at him in horror. Yussuf said, with
his quiet smile, 'My brother, thou art talking English,' with a glance at
me; and we all laughed, and I said, 'Many thanks for the compliment.'
All the village is in good spirits; the Nile is rising fast, and a star
of most fortunate character has made its appearance, so Yussuf tells me,
and portends a good year and an end to our afflictions. I am much better
to-day, and I think I too feel the rising Nile; it puts new life into all
things. The last fortnight or three weeks have been very trying with the
Simoom and intense heat. I suppose I look better for the people here are
for ever praising God about my amended looks. I am too hot, and it is
too dark to write more.

June 26, 1864: Sir Alexander Duff Gordon

_To Sir Alexander Duff Gordon_.

LUXOR,
_June_ 26, 1864.

DEAREST ALICK,

I have just paid a singular visit to a political _detenu_ or exile
rather. Last night Mustapha came in with a man in great grief who said
his boy was very ill on board a cangia just come from Cairo and going to
Assouan. The watchman on the river-bank had told him that there was an
English Sitt 'who would not turn her face from anyone in trouble' and
advised him to come to me for medicine, so he went to Mustapha and begged
him to bring him to me, and to beg the cawass (policeman) in charge of
El-Bedrawee (who was being sent to Fazoghlou in banishment) to wait a few
hours. The cawass (may he not suffer for his humanity) consented. He
described his boy's symptoms and I gave him a dose of castor oil and said
I would go to the boat in the morning. The poor fellow was a Cairo
merchant but living at Khartoum, he poured out his sorrow in true Eastern
style. 'Oh my boy, and I have none but he, and how shall I come