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III. DAMANHOUR.

IN order that we should not waste time at Alexandria, where he was forced to wait for the Pacha, Baron Taylor sent Mayer and me before him to design the mosques of that city of the Thousand and One Nights, which the Arabs call Al Misr, and the Franks Cairo. On the morning of the 2nd of May we quitted Alexandria, each mounted on a donkey, and followed by our drivers and our servant Mohammed, who went on foot.

This last-named personage was a young Nubian, vigorous, alert, and intelligent, speaking a little French, and wearing the costume of his country. This costume, one of the most simple, and at the same time one of the most picturesque, consisted of a white shirt and blue tunic, whose long sleeves were tied up and kept back by a silk cord, which formed a cross in the middle of his back.

His head

was covered with the tarbush (cap), and surrounded by a white turban; he had over his shoulders the black mantle which they call abbaye; and his waist was drawn tight by a girdle, from which was suspended a dagger with an ivory handle. His head, full of expression and cleverness, was enclosed in a frame of black hair, long and flowing; his moustache

D

eame down at both sides of his mouth, as if it had been exquisitely pencilled, and his beard, rare on Nubian faces, formed a tuft under his chin, where it terminated in a point.

In addition to the donkey-drivers and the Nubian, our escort was strengthened by two cavas, a kind of body-guards belonging to the city militia, which the governor of Alexandria had given us to facilitate our introductions as travellers. They wore a peculiar uniform, resembling that of the old mamlooks, and their duty was to obtain for us aid and protection from the Turkish authorities. It was not long before we had need of their good offices. For some hours we followed the road which leads from Alexandria to Damanhour, when we met the canal of Mahmoudie, which can be none other than the ancient Fossa, that brought the waters of the Nile from Schedia to Alexandria. The pass was guarded by Turkish troops, whose scruples we satisfied by exhibiting our tcheriks or passports. The chief made a low bow before the hieroglyphics with which they were ornamented, and declared to us that we were perfectly free to continue our journey, but on foot and without attendants. We demanded an explanation of so strange a decision, and presented our passports a second time. To this fresh exhibition, the chief replied with repeated bows that our passports were quite regular; it was perfectly

true that they bore in their centre the plan and elevation of Solomon's temple, and at the four corners Saladin's cognizance, Solyman's seal, Mohammed's sabre and hand of justice, but-they did not contain a syllable concerning our servant, our donkeys, and our drivers. We then called our cavas to our aid, but found that they could form no opinion about the question in dispute. However they gave us their advice, which was, to offer a dozen piastres to the honest guardian of the post. As the Egyptian piastre is not a coin of high value, we saw no inconvenience in following their advice; besides, we soon perceived that it was the best plan. The gates of the canal were thrown open, and we passed through in triumph, ourselves, our beasts, and our attendants. With respect to the cavas they went no further their mission extended only to opening the gates of the canal for us, and we have just seen how they fulfilled that duty. Still we did not the less give them bakshish, which is "remember the coachman" in England," pour boire" in France, Trinkgeld in Germany, and a golden master-key all over the world.

We followed the banks of the canal, and after a journey of two hours through a flat, monotonous country, we halted at the gate of a Greek named Tiutza, who received us in his little square house, and gave us permission to eat in the shade, on con

dition that we should provide our own breakfast and give him a share of it. This hopitality reminded me of Sicily, where it is the travellers that supply provisions to the inn-keepers.

When our repast was finished, we took leave of our host and resumed our journey. The road from Alexandria to Damanhour has nothing remarkable but its sterility; we were advancing through a sea of sand in which our men and beasts sunk up to the knees. Occasionally a burning blast of wind, mingled with sand, blinded us as it passed, and we recognised by the momentary oppression of our chest, that we were breathing the hot air of the desert. Occasionally we perceived to our right and left, on elevated points, which after the overflowing of the river become islands, round villages, the houses in which are of a conical form, built of bricks and clay; these houses are pierced with small square holes, designed to allow only just as much light to penetrate into the interior as is strictly necessary, and as little heat as possible. Finally, at unequal intervals, but sufficiently close, we met on the borders of the road some isolated tombs of hermits or dervishes, shaded by a palm-tree, the religious friend of the tomb, over which a rapid cloud of hawks was circling with shrill screams. It was nearly three o'clock, when we perceived Damanhour at a distance; it was the first truly Arabian town that we

had come to visit, for Alexandria, with its cosmopolite population, is only a mixture of various nations, whose character and originality have been gradually effaced by rubbing against each other.

The mirage exhibited the city to us like an island surrounded with water and mist; as we approached, the vapours of this false lake gradually evaporated, and the objects appeared to us under their true forms. Our shadows were lengthened by the last rays of the setting sun; the palm-trees gracefully extended their verdant shade to the evening breeze, when we dismounted at the gate of the town, whose elegant minarets rose lightly above the walls of mosques, painted in alternate bands of red and white.

We stopped for an instant to contemplate a prospect so novel to Europeans. A pure sky, of whose transparency and delicate shades no pencil can give an idea; tanks, which really bound one side of the city and reflect its walls in their tranquil waters, long files of camels led by Arabian peasants, gliding slowly into the city, all gave to this wondrous picture an air of life, calm and happiness, the more remarkable after the preparatory introduction of the desert which we had just traversed.

Damanhour possesses only one hotel, though its population amounts to eight thousand souls. Mohammed having made us traverse some streets of