I have had a long, dawdling voyage up here, but enjoyed it much, and have
seen and heard many curious things. I only stop here for letters and
shall go on at once to Wady Halfeh, as the weather is very cold still,
and I shall be better able to enjoy the ruins when I return about a month
hence, and shall certainly prefer the tropics now. I can't describe the
kindness of the Copts. The men I met at a party in Cairo wrote to all
their friends and relations to be civil to me. Wassef's attentions
consisted first in lending me his superb donkey and accompanying me about
all day. Next morning arrived a procession headed by his clerk, a
gentlemanly young Copt, and consisting of five black memlooks carrying a
live sheep, a huge basket of the most delicious bread, a pile of
cricket-balls of creamy butter, a large copper caldron of milk and a cage
of poultry. I was confounded, and tried to give a good baksheesh to the
clerk, but he utterly declined. At Girgeh one Mishrehgi was waiting for
me, and was in despair because he had only time to get a few hundred
eggs, two turkeys, a heap of butter and a can of milk. At Keneh one Issa
(Jesus) also lent a donkey, and sent me three boxes of delicious Mecca
dates, which Omar thought stingy. Such attentions are agreeable here
where good food is not to be had except as a gift. They all made me
promise to see them again on my return and dine at their houses, and
Wassef wanted to make a fantasia and have dancing girls. How you would
love the Arab women in the country villages. I wandered off the other
day alone, while the men were mending the rudder, and fell in with a
troop of them carrying water-jars--such sweet, graceful beings, all
smiles and grace. One beautiful woman pointed to the village and made
signs of eating and took my hand to lead me. I went with her, admiring
them as they walked. Omar came running after and wondered I was not
afraid. I laughed, and said they were much too pretty and kindly-looking
to frighten anyone, which amused them immensely when he told them so.
They all wanted me to go and eat in their houses, and I had a great mind
to it, but the wind was fair and the boat waiting, so I bid my beautiful
friends farewell. They asked if we wanted anything--milk or eggs--for
they would give it with pleasure, it was not their custom to sell things,
they said, I offered a bit of money to a little naked child, but his
mother would not let him take it. I shall never forget the sweet,
engaging creatures at that little village, or the dignified politeness of
an old weaver whose loom I walked in to look at, and who also wished to
'set a piece of bread before me.' It is the true poetical pastoral life
of the Bible in the villages where the English have not been, and happily
they don't land at the little places. Thebes has become an English
watering-place. There are now nine boats lying here, and the great
object is to _do the Nile_ as fast as possible. It is a race up to Wady
Halfeh or Assouan. I have gained so much during this month that I hope
the remaining three will do real good, as the weather will improve with
the new year they tell me. All the English stay here and 'make
Christmas,' as Omar calls it, but I shall go on and do my devotions with
the Copts at Esneh or Edfou. I found that their seeming disinclination
to let one attend their service arose from an idea that we English would
not recognise them as Christians. I wrote a curious story of a miracle
to my mother, I find that I was wrong about the saint being a Mussulman
(and so is Murray); he is no less than Mar Girghis, our own St. George
himself. Why he selected a Mussulman mason I suppose he best knows.
In a week I shall be in Nubia. Some year we must all make this voyage;
you would revel in it. Kiss my darlings for me.