I have been too weak to write, but the heat set in three days ago and
took away my cough, and I feel much better. Maurice also flourishes in
the broil, and protests against moving yet. He speaks a good deal of
Arabic and is friends with everyone. It is _Salaam aleykoum ya maris_ on
all sides. A Belgian has died here, and his two slaves, a very nice
black boy and an Abyssinian girl, got my little varlet, Darfour, to coax
me to take them under my protection, which I have done, as there appeared
a strong probability that they would be 'annexed' by a rascally Copt who
is a Consular agent at Keneh. I believe the Belgian has left money for
them, which of course they would never get without someone to look after
it, and so I have Ramadan, the boy, with me, and shall take the girl when
I go, and carry them both to Cairo, settle their little business, and let
them present a sealed-up book which they have to their Consul there,
according to their master's desire, and then marry the girl to some
decent man. I have left her in Mustapha's hareem till I go.
I enjoyed Nubia immensely, and long to go and live with the descendants
of a great _Ras_ (head, chief,) who entertained me at Ibreem, and who
said, like Ravenswood, 'Thou art come to a fallen house, and there is
none to serve thee left save me.' It was a paradise of a place, and the
Nubian had the grand manners of a very old, proud nobleman. I had a
letter to him from Sheykh Yussuf.
Since I wrote the above it has turned quite chilly again, so we agreed to
stay till the heat really begins. Maurice is so charmed with Luxor that
he does not want to go, and we mean to let the boat and live here next
winter. I think another week will see us start down stream. Janet talks
of coming up the Nile with me next year, which would be pleasant. I am a
little better than I have been the last two months. I was best in Nubia
but I got a cold at Esneh, second hand from Maurice, which made me very
seedy. I cannot go about at all for want of breath. Could you send me a
chair such as people are carried in by two men? A common chair is
awkward for the men when the banks are steep, and I am nervous, so I
never go out. I wish you could see your son bare-legged and footed, in a
shirt and a pair of white Arab drawers, rushing about with the fellaheen.
He is everybody's 'brother' or 'son.'