nd, apparently on the verge of the desert, we see here a clump of sycamores – yonder a dark hillock – midway between both a confused heap of something that may be either fallen rock or fallen masonry ; but nothing that looks like a Temple, nothing to indicate that we are already within recognisable distance of the grandest ruins in the world.
Presently, however, as the boat goes on, a massive, windowless structure which looks (Heaven preserve us!) just like a brand-new fort or prison, towers up above the palm-groves to the left. This, we are told, is one of the propylons of Karnak ; while a few whitewashed huts and a little crowd of masts now coming into sight a mile or so higher up, mark the position of Luxor. Then up capers Egendi with his never-failing "Luxor – kharûf – all right!" to fetch down the tar and darabukkeh. The captain claps his hands. A circle is formed on the lower deck. The men, all smiles, strike up their liveliest chorus, and so, with barbaric music and well-filled sails, and flags flying, and green boughs waving overhead, we make our triumphal entry into Luxor.
The top of another pylon ; the slender peak of an obelisk ; a colonnade of giant pillars half-buried in the soil ; the white houses of the English, American, and Prussian Consuls, each with its flagstaff and ensign ; a steep slope of sandy shore ; a background of mud walls and pigeon-towers ; a foreground of native boats and gaily-painted dahabeeyahs lying at anchor – such, as we sweep by, is our first panoramic view of this famous village. A group of turbaned officials sitting in the shade of an arched doorway rise and salute us as we pass. The assembled dahabeeyahs dozing with folded sails, like sea-birds asleep, are roused to spasmodic activity. Flags are lowered ; guns are fired ; all Luxor is startled from its midday siesta. Then, before the smoke has had time to clear off, up comes the Bagstones in gallant form ; whereupon the dahabeeyahs blaze away again as before.
COLONNADE OF HOREMHEB, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY BRUGSCH-BEY.
And now there is a rush of donkeys and donkey-boys, beggars, guides, and antiquity-dealers, to the shore – the children screaming for bakhshîsh ; the dealers exhibiting strings of imitation scrabs ; the donkey-boys vociferating the names and praises of their beasts ; all alike regarding us as their lawful prey.
"Hi, lady! Yankee-Doodle donkey ; try Yankee-Doodle!" cries one.
"Far-away Moses!" yells another. "Good donkey – fast donkey – best donkey in Luxor!"
"This Prince of Wales's donkey!" shouts a third, hauling forward a decrepit little weak-kneed, moth-eaten looking animal, about as good to ride on as a towel-horse. "First-rate donkey! splendid donkey! God save the Queen! Hurrah!"
But neither donkeys nor scarabs are of any importance in our eyes just now, compared with the letters we hope to find awaiting us on shore. No sooner, therefore, are the boats made fast than we are all off, some to the British Consulate and some to the Poste Restante, from both of which we return rich and happy.
Meanwhile we proposed to spend only twenty-four hours in Luxor. We were to ride round Karnak this first afternoon ; to cross to Medinet Habu and the Ramesseum 2 to-morrow morning ; and to sail again as soon after midday as possible. We hope thus to get a general idea of the topography of Thebes, and to carry away a superficial impression of the architectural style of the Pharaohs. It would be but a glimpse ; yet that glimpse was essential. For Thebes represents the great central period of Egyptian art. The earlier styles lead up to that point ; the later depart from it ; and neither the earlier nor the later are intelligible without it. At the same time, however, travellers bound for the Second Cataract do well to put off everything like a detailed study of Thebes till the time of coming back. For the present, a rapid survey of the three principal groups of ruins is enough. It supplies the necessary link. It helps one to a right understanding of Edfu, of Philæ, of Abu Simbel. In a word, it enables one to put things in their right p