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was there; I went on board for the last time; my men took to their oars, and in half an hour we were at Boulac. It was dark when we arrived, and I jumped on shore searching for a donkey, but none was to be had. I was almost tired out with the labours of the day, but Paul and I set off, nevertheless, on foot for Cairo. We were obliged to walk smartly, too, as the gate closed at nine o'clock; but when about half way there we met an Arab with a donkey, cheering the stillness of the evening with a song. An extravagant price (I believe it was something like eighteen and three quarter cents) bribed him to dismount, and I galloped on to Cairo, while Paul retraced his steps to the boat. The reader may judge how completely "turned up" must have been the feelings of a quiet citizen of New-York, when told that, in winding at night through the narrow streets of Grand Cairo, the citizen aforesaid felt himself quite at home; and that the greeting of Francisco, the garçon at the Locanda d'Italia, seemed the welcome of an old friend. Hoping to receive letters from home, I went immediately to the American consul, and was disappointed; there were no letters, but there was other and interesting news for me; and as an American, identified with the honour of my country, I was congratulated there, thousands of miles from home, upon the expected speedy and honourable termination of our difficulties with France. An English vessel had arrived at Alexandria, bringing a London paper containing the president's last message, a notice of the offer of mediation from the English government, its acceptance by France, and the general impression that the quarrel might be considered settled, and the money paid. A man must be long and far from home to feel how dearly he loves his country, how his eye brightens and his heart beats when he hears her praises from the lips of strangers; and when the paper was given me, with congratulations and compliments on the successful and honourable issue of the affair

with France, my feelings grew prouder and prouder as I read, until, when I had finished the last line, I threw up my cap in the old city of Cairo, and shouted the old gatheringcry, "Hurrah for Jackson!"

I have heard all manners of opinion expressed in regard to a voyage on the Nile; and may be allowed, perhaps, to give my own. Mrs. S. used frequently to say that, although she had travelled in France, Switzerland, Germany, Italy, and Sicily, she had never enjoyed a journey so much before, and was always afraid that it would end too soon. Another lady's sentiments, expressed in my hearing, were just the contrary. For myself, being alone, and not in very good health, I had some heavy moments; but I have no hesitation in saying that, with a friend, a good boat well fitted up, books, guns, plenty of time, and a cook like Michel, a voyage on the Nile would exceed any travelling within my experience. The perfect freedom from all restraint, and from the conventional trammels of civilized society, forms an episode in a man's life that is vastly agreeable and exciting. Think of not shaving for two months, of washing your shirts in the Nile, and wearing them without being ironed. True, these things are not absolutely necessary; but who would go to Egypt to travel as he does in Europe? "Away with all fantasies and fetters," is the motto of the tourist. We throw aside pretty much everything except our pantaloons; and a generous rivalry in long beards and soiled linen is kept up with exceeding spirit. You may go ashore whenever you like, and stroll through the little villages, and be stared at by the Arabs, or walk along the banks of the river till darkness covers the earth; shooting pigeons, and sometimes pheasants and hares, besides the odd shots from the deck of your boat at geese, crocodiles, and pelicans. And then it is so ridiculously cheap an amusement. You get your boat with ten men for thirty or forty dollars a month, fowls for three piasters (about a shil

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ling) a pair, a sheep for half or three quarters of a dollar, and eggs almost for the asking. You sail under your own country's banner; and, when you walk along the river, if the Arabs look particularly black and truculent, you proudly feel that there is safety in its folds. From time to time you hear that a French or English flag has passed so many days before you, and you meet your fellow-voyagers with a freedom and cordiality which exist nowhere but on the Nile.

These are the little every-day items in the voyage, without referring to the great and interesting objects which are the traveller's principal inducements and rewards, the ruined cities on its banks, the mighty temples and tombs, and all the wonderful monuments of Egypt's departed greatness. Of them I will barely say, that their great antiquity, the mystery that overhangs them, and their extraordinary preservation amid the surrounding desolation, make Egypt perhaps the most interesting country in the world. In the words of an old traveller, "Time sadly overcometh all things, and is now dominant, and sitteth upon a sphinx and looketh into Memphis and old Thebes, while his sister Oblivion reclineth semi-sominous on a pyramid, gloriously triumphing and turning old glories into dreams. History sinketh beneath her cloud. The traveller, as he passeth amazedly through those deserts, asketh of her who builded them, and she mumbleth something, but what it is he heareth not."

It is now more than three thousand years since the curse went forth against the land of Egypt. The Assyrian, the Persian, the Greek, the Roman, the Arabian, the Georgian, the Circassian, and the Ottoman Turk have successively trodden it down and trampled upon it; for thirty centuries the foot of a stranger has been upon the necks of her inhabitants; and in bidding farewell to this once-favoured land, now lying in the most abject degradation and misery,

groaning under the iron rod of a tyrant and a stranger, I cannot help recurring to the inspired words, the doom of prophecy: "It shall be the basest of the kingdoms, neither shall it exalt itself any more among the nations; and there. shall be no more a prince of the land of Egypt."

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CHAPTER XIII.

A good Word for the Arabs.-A Prophecy fulfilled.-Ruins of a Lost City. -A Sheik of the Bedouins.-Interviews and Negotiations.-A Hadj, or Pilgrimage to Mecca.-Mohammedan Heaven for Wives.-A French Sheik.-The Bastinado.-Departure for the Desert.

I HAD now finished my journey in Egypt, from the Mediterranean to the Cataracts, or, as the boundaries of this ancient country are given in the Bible, from "Migdol to Syene, even unto the borders of Ethiopia." For nearly two months I had been floating on the celebrated river, with a dozen Arabs, prompt to do my slightest bidding, and, in spite of bugs and all manner of creeping things, enjoying pleasures and comforts that are not to be found in Europe; and it was with something more than an ordinary feeling of regret that I parted from my worthy boatmen. I know that it is the custom with many travellers to rail at the Arabs, and perhaps to beat them, and have them bastinadoed; but I could not and cannot join in such oppression of this poor and much-abused people. On the contrary, I do not hesitate to say that I always found them kind, honest, and faithful, thankful for the smallest favour, never surly or discontented, and always ready and anxious to serve me with a zeal that I have not met in any other people; and when they came up in a body to the locanda to say farewell, I felt that I was parting with tried and trusty friends, most probably for ever. That such was the case with the rais there could be little doubt; he seemed to look upon himself as a doomed man, and a