y pretty. At the end of each verse the people made
a sort of chorus, which was sadly like the braying of asses. The _zikr_
of the Edfoo men was very curious. Our people did it quietly, and the
_moonsheed_ sang very sweetly--indeed 'the song of the moonsheed is the
sugar in the sherbet to the Zikkeer,' said a man who came up when it was
over, streaming with perspiration and radiant with smiles. Some day I
will write to you the whole '_grund Idee_' of a _zikr_, which is, in
fact, an attempt to make present 'the communion of saints,' dead or
living. As I write arrives the Arooset er-rallee, and my crew furl her
big sail quite 'Bristol fashion.' My men have come together again, some
from Nubia and some from the Delta; and I shall go down with my old lot.

Omar and Achmet have implored me not to take another maid at all; they
say they live like Pashas now they have only the lady to please; that it
will be a pleasure to 'lick my shoes clean,' whereas the boots of the
_Cameriera_ were intolerable. The feeling of the Arab servants towards
European colleagues is a little like that of 'niggers' about 'mean
whites'--mixed hatred, fear, and scorn. The two have done so well to
make me comfortable that I have no possible reason for insisting on
encumbering myself with 'an old man of the sea,' in the shape of a maid;
and the difference in cost is immense. The one dish of my dinner is
ample relish to their bread and beans, while the cooking for a maid, and
her beer and wine, cost a great deal. Omar irons my clothes very tidily,
and little Achmet cleans the house as nicely as possible. I own I am
quite as much relieved by the absence of the 'civilized element' as my
retainers are.

Did I describe the Coptic Good Friday? Imagine 450 _Rekahs_ in church!
I have seen many queer things, but nothing half so queer as the bobbing
of the Copts.

I went the other day to the old church six or eight miles off, where they
buried the poor old Bishop who died a week ago. Abu Khom, a Christian
_shaheed_ (martyr), is buried there. He appeared to Mustapha's father
when lost in the desert, and took him safe home. On that occasion he was
well mounted, and robed all in white, with a _litham_ in over his face.
No one dares to steal anything near his tomb, not one ear of corn. He
revealed himself long ago to one of the descendants of Abu-l-Hajjaj, and
to this day every Copt who marries in Luxor gives a pair of fowls to the
family of that Mus