ling for the private profit of
one man. Egypt is one vast 'plantation' where the master works his
slaves without even feeding them. From my window now I see the men
limping about among the poor camels that are waiting for the Pasha's
boats to take them, and the great heaps of maize which they are forced to
bring for their food. I can tell you the tears such a sight brings to
one's eyes are hot and bitter. These are no sentimental grievances;
hunger, and pain, and labour without hope and without reward, and the
constant bitterness of impotent resentment. To you all this must sound
remote and almost fabulous. But try to imagine Farmer Smith's team
driven off by the police and himself beaten till he delivered his hay,
his oats and his farm-servant for the use of the Lord Lieutenant, and his
two sons dragged in chains to work at railway embankments--and you will
have some idea of my state of mind to-day. I fancy from the number of
troops going up to Assouan that there is another rising among the blacks.
Some of the black regiments revolted up in the Soudan last summer, and
now I hear Shaheen Pasha is to be here in a day or two on his way up, and
the camels are being sent off by hundreds from all the villages every
day. But I am weary of telling, and you will sicken of hearing my
constant lamentations.

Sheykh Hassan dropped in and dined with me yesterday and described his
mother and her high-handed rule over him. It seems he had a 'jeunesse
orageuse' and she defended him against his father's displeasure, but when
the old Sheykh died she informed her son that if he ever again behaved in
a manner unworthy of a Sheykh-el-Arab she would not live to see it. 'Now
if my mother told me to jump into the river and drown I should say
_hader_ (ready), for I fear her exceedingly and love her above all people
in the world, and have left everything in her hand.' He was good enough
to tell me that I was the only woman he knew like his mother and that was
why he loved me so much. I am to visit this Arab Deborah at the Abab'deh
village two days ride from the first Cataract. She will come and meet me
at the boat. Hassan was splendid when he said how he feared his mother
exceedingly.

To my amazement to-day in walked the tremendous Alim from Tunis, Sheykh
Abd-el-Moutovil, who used to look so black at me. He was very civil and
pleasant and asked no end of questions about steam engines, and
telegraphs and chemistry; especially wh