first. He even preserves this right when the deception is purely moral, if at the end of a certain time the married pair perceive that there is no sympathy between their tempers. The husband and wife then become free; and the morning after the divorce by mutual consent, they may, if they please, contract second, third, or even fourth unions.

M. Amon gave us these details, as he guided us from Rosetta to the mosque of Abú-Mandúr, which is erected on the banks of the Nile. This edifice, quite oriental, and placed in the midst of a charming landscape, projects into the river, leaving a narrow passage between its base and the other side, covered with small houses, surrounded by rice-fields. A dome in the form of an inverted heart, surmounted by a crescent, rises over the white and festooned walls; a minaret of rare elegance is erected at one of the corners; the parapets of its galleries are indented like point-lace; the opposite part seems to sustain an enormous mass of sand, placed like a peak on the declivity of the mountain; lofty palm-trees grow all round with a single stem, some of these cross, and crown, as with a plume, the flat and sombre dome of a large sycamore.

The true believers say that it is the holy dervish Abú Mandúr, who supports with his shoulders the mountains of sand which seem ready to overwhelm the mosque and choke the Nile.

A spectacle rather curious to Europeans awaited us on our return to Rosetta. A Santon, absolutely naked, was indolently stretched on the steps, and under the shade of a mosque. He waited in this costume and position, which were habitual to him, until the devotees of the neighbourhood brought him provision. Even ladies condescend to wait upon this disgusting fanatic, and deemed themselves honoured by his notice.

Both M. Camps and M. Amon had invited us to their houses, but for fear of giving trouble, we declined their hospitality, and went to establish ourselves in an old monastery of the Capuchins, a vast dilapidated edifice, where there only remained one brother of the order, a living ruin in the midst of dead ruins. The poor old man, like the soldiers of Ulysses, had eaten of the lotus, which destroys the memory. For twenty years no sound of the world which had forgotten him had reached him, and he paid back the indifference of Europe with equal indifference. His simple manners, his flowing robes, shaped in the oriental fashion, had procured him the respect of the Arabs; I forgot to notice his beard, which contributed not a little to this result.

We went to pass the evening with one of M. Amon's friends, an estimable Turk, who had sacrificed to his love of wine the most notorious precept of the Koran. The apartment in which he received

E

us, like most oriental saloons, was simple; according to the usual fashion of furniture in the East, a large divan was ranged round the whole; a jet of water in the centre, fell from a beautiful marble fountain into an octagonal basin; several rare and brilliant flowers were tastefully ranged round the basin, all sprinkled with liquid pearls, as if they had been kissed by the dews of morning, and their beauty and fragrance gave a joyous and charming aspect to the immense saloon. The Turk received us in the midst of his friends, made us take our places in the circle, and presented us with pipes and coffee. Half an hour after, lemonade prepared by his wives was served up, but this scarcely invigorated the conversation, which was of a languid character; for it was necessary that what we said and what he replied should be translated. There is no dialogue, however lively, which could stand such a test; this labour of the mind proved at last so fatiguing to the speakers and the interpreters, that we rose up with one accord and withdrew. It is only justice to add, that the Turk on his part made no effort to detain us.

The next day brought us our friends from Alexandria, Baron Taylor, Captain Bellanger, and Mr. Eydoux, the chief surgeon. This last came less through curiosity than a philanthropic sentiment, which in our opinion did him the highest honour. He had heard mention made of a frightful form of

ophthalmic disease in Egypt, and he exposed his own eyes to save ours.

As there was nothing to detain us at Abú Mansúr, and we were in a hurry to see Cairo, we freighted a jerm, of the largest dimensions, on the following day (May 6). The boat we selected might be about forty feet long, and she carried two latten triangular sails of frightful size. At the moment of starting, and when everything was ready, the wind proved contrary; we bore the mischance as patiently as we could, and consoled ourselves by going to the bath.

As at Alexandria, the bathing establishment was the largest and finest edifice in the city: as at Alexandria I passed through the experiments of dense steam and boiling water; but whether my lungs had been dilated by breathing sand, or my skin tanned by exposure to the rays of the Egyptian sun, I escaped my former sufferings, even the process of shampooing went off to my entire satisfaction; and under the hands of my bath-attendant I took without an effort positions which would have done honour to a posture-master.

On the morning of the 7th of May, the boatmen came to tell us that the wind was favourable; we received the good news with pleasure. We were beginning to grow tired of our irregular habits at Abú Mansúr, and whatever were my sympathies for the bath, I could not renounce the element which was

natural to me; hence it followed, that we resumed our journey with the most lively satisfaction. The day was splendid; the wind blew as if it had been under our orders; and our mariners, in executing their manœuvres, sung in chorus, both to give themselves courage, and to keep time in their work. We caused two of their songs to be translated. The first was composed of some verses in praise of God; the second was an assemblage of moral sentences and philosophic reflections tacked one to the other, and of which the least trite and most salient was,

This world is all a fleeting show,

There's nought but pain and grief below.

As we were in a merry mood, and these truths appeared too serious for such a state of mind, we invited our Arabs to sing us something of a more jovial character. They immediately went in search of two instruments necessary as an accompaniment. The one was a sort of pipe resembling an ancient flute; the other was a simple timbrel, whose frame of baked earth was widened at the top, and over the broader part was stretched a very fine skin of parchment, which had been tightened by exposure to the heat of the fire. Then a Charivari commenced, which by its savage wildness so absorbed our attention, that we did not think of asking the meaning of the words; we were so occupied with the attempt to disentangle