Thesunisburning，thestarlitnightsclearandcold.Awitheringwind，whichblowsalmostwithoutceasingfromthenorth，makesyoushiverassoonasthetwilightfalls.
　　Onemaytravelforleagueafterleaguealongthisslimywaterandmakeheadfordaysandweeksagainstitscurrent——whichglideseverlastinglypastthedahabiya，inlittlehurryingwaves——withoutseeingthiswarm，fecundatingriver，comparedwithwhichourriversofFrancearemerenegligiblestreams，eitherdiminishorincreaseorhasten.Andontherightandleftofusaswepassareunfoldedindefinitelythetwoparallelchainsofbarrenlimestone，whichimprisonsonarrowlytheEgyptoftheharvests：onthewestthatoftheLibyandesert，whicheverymorningthefirstraysofthesuntintwitharosycoralthatnothingseemstodull;andintheeastthatofthedesertofArabia，whichneverfailsintheeveningtoretainthelightofthesettingsun，andlooksthenlikeamournfulgirdleofglowingembers.Sometimesthetwoparallelwallssheeroffandgivemoreroomtothegreenfields，tothewoodsofpalm—trees，andthelittleoases，separatedbystreaksofgoldensand.SometimestheyapproachsocloselytotheNilethathabitableEgyptisnowiderthansometwoorthreepoorfieldsofcorn，lyingrightonthewater’sedge，behindwhichthedeadstonesandthedeadsandscommenceatonce.Andsometimes，even，thedesertchainclosesinsoastooverhangtheriverwithitsreddish—whitecliffs，whichnorainevercomestofreshen，andinwhich，atdifferentheights，gapethesquareholesleadingtothehabitationsofthemummies.Thesemountains，whichinthedistancelooksobeautifulintheirrose—colour，andmake，asitwere，interminableback—clothstoallthathappensontheriverbanks，wereperforated，duringsome5000years，fortheintroductionofsarcophagiandnowtheyswarmwitholddeadbodies.
　　Andallthatpassesonthebanks，indeed，changesaslittleasthebackground.
　　Firstthereisthatgesture，suppleandsuperb，butalwaysthesame，ofthewomenintheirlongblackrobeswhocomewithoutceasingtofilltheirlong—neckedjarsandcarrythemawaybalancedontheirveiledheads.Thentheflockswhichshepherds，drapedinmourning，bringtotherivertodrink，goatsandsheepandassesallmixeduptogether.Andthenthebuffaloes，massiveandmud—coloured，whodescendcalmlytobathe.And，finally，thegreatlabourofthewatering：thetraditionalnoria，turnedbyalittlebullwithbandagedeyesand，aboveall，theshaduf，workedbymenwhosenakedbodiesstreamwiththecoldwater.
　　Theshadufsfollowoneanothersometimesasfarastheeyecansee.Itisstrangetowatchthemovement——confusedinthedistance——ofalltheselongrodswhichpumpthewaterwithoutceasing，andlookliketheswayingoflivingantennae.ThesamesightwastobeseenalongthisriverinthetimesoftheRamses.Butsuddenly，atsomebendoftheriver，theoldPharaonicriggingdisappears，togiveplacetoasuccessionofsteammachines，which，moreeventhanthemusclesofthefellahs，arebusyatthewater—drawing.BeforelongtheirblackishchimneyswillmakeacontinuousbordertothetamedNile.
　　Didonenotknowtheirbearings，thegreatruinsofthisEgyptwouldpassunnoticed.Withafewrareexceptionstheyliebeyondthegreenplainsonthethresholdofthesolitudes.Andagainstthechangeless，rose—colouredbackgroundofthesecliffsofthedesert，whichfollowyouduringthewholeofthistranquilnavigationofsome600miles，aretobeseenonlythehumbletownsandvillagesofto—day，whichhavetheneutralcolouroftheground.Someopenworkminaretsdominatethem——whitespotsabovetheprevailingdullness.Cloudsofpigeonswhirlroundintheneighbourhood.Andamongstthelittlehouses，whichareonlycubesofmud，bakedinthesun，thepalm—treesofAfrica，eithersinglyorinmightyclusters，risesuperblyandcastontheselittlehabitationstheshadeoftheirpalmswhichswayinthewind.
　　Notlongago，althoughindeedeverythingintheselittletownswasmournfulandstagnant，onewouldhavebeentemptedtostopinpassing，drawnbythatnamelesspeacethatbelongedtotheOldEastandtoIslam.But，now，beforethesmallesthamlet——amongstthebeautifulprimitiveboats，thatstillremainingreatnumbers，pointingtheiryards，likeverylongreeds，intothesky——thereisalways，forthemeetingofthetouristboats，anenormousblackpontoon，whichspoilsthewholescenebyitspresenceanditsgreatadvertisinginscription：
　　"ThomasCook&Son（EgyptLtd.）."And，whatismore，onehearsthewhistlingoftherailway，whichrunsmercilesslyalongtheriver，bringingfromtheDeltatotheSoudanthehordesofEuropeaninvaders.
　　Andtocrownall，adjoiningthestationisinevitablysomemodernfactory，thronedthereinasortofirony，anddominatingthepoorcrumblingthingsthatstillpresumetotellofEgyptandofmystery.
　　Andsonow，exceptatthetownsorvillageswhichleadtocelebratedruins，westopnolonger.Itisnecessarytoproceedfartherandforthehaltofthenighttoseekanobscurehamlet，asilentrecess，wherewemaymoorourdahabiyaagainstthevenerableearthofthebank.
　　Andsoonegoeson，fordaysandweeks，betweenthesetwointerminablecliffsofreddishchalk，filledwiththeirhypogeaandmummies，whicharethewallsofthevalleyoftheNile，andwillfollowusuptothefirstcataract，untilourentranceintoNubia.Thereonlywilltheappearanceandnatureoftherocksofthedesertchange，tobecomethemoresombregraniteoutofwhichthePharaohscarvedtheirobelisksandthegreatfiguresoftheirgods.
　　Wegoonandon，ascendingthethreadofthiseternalcurrent，andtheregularityofthewind，thepersistentclearnessofthesky，themonotonyofthegreatriver，whichwindsbutneverends，allconspiretomakeusforgetthehoursanddaysthatpass.Howeverdeceivedanddisappointedwemaybeatseeingtheprofanationoftheriverbanks，here，nevertheless，isolatedonthewater，wedonotlosethepeaceofbeingawanderer，astrangeramongstanequipageofsilentArabs，whoeveryeveningprostratethemselvesinconfidingprayer.
　　And，moreover，wearemovingtowardsthesouth，towardsthesun，andeverydayhasamoreentrancingclearness，amorecaressingwarmth，andthebronzeofthefacesthatweseeonourwaytakesonadeepertint.
　　Andthentooonemixesintimatelywiththelifeoftheriverbank，whichisstillsoabsorbingand，atcertainhours，whenthehorizonisunsulliedbythesmokeofpit—coal，recallsyoutothedaysofartlesstoilandhealthybeauty.Intheboatsthatmeetus，half—nakedmen，revellingintheirmovement，inthesunandair，sing，astheyplytheiroars，thosesongsoftheNilethatareasoldasThebesorMemphis.Whenthewindrisesthereisariotousunfurlingofsails，which，stretchedontheirlongyards，givetothedahabiyastheairofbirdsinfullflight.Bendingrightoverinthewind，theyskimalongwithalivelymotion，carryingtheircargoesofmenandbeastsandprimitivethings.Womenaretheredrapedstillintheancientfashion，andsheepandgoats，andsometimespilesoffruitandgourds，andsacksofgrain.Manyareladentothewater’sedgewiththeseearthenwarejars，unchangedfor3000years，whichthefellaheensknowhowtoplaceontheirheadswithsomuchgrace——andoneseestheseheapsoffragilepotteryglidingalongthewaterasifcarriedbythegiganticwingsofagull.Andinthefar—off，almostfabulous，daysthelifeofthemarinersoftheNilehadthesameaspect，asisshownbythebas—reliefsontheoldesttombs;itrequiredthesameplayofmusclesandofsails;wasaccompaniednodoubtbythesamesongs，andwassubjecttothewitheringcaressofthissamedesertwind.Andthen，asnow，thesameunchangingrosecolouredthecontinuouscurtainofthemountains.
　　Butallatoncethereisanoiseofmachinery，andwhistlings，andintheair，whichwasjustnowsopure，risenoxiouscolumnsofblacksmoke.Themodernsteamersarecoming，andthrowintodisordertheflotillasofthepast;colliersthatleavegreateddiesintheirwake，orperhapsawearisomelotofthosethree—deckedtouristboats，whichmakeagreatnoiseastheyploughthewater，andareladenforthemostpartwithuglywomen，snobsandimbeciles.
　　Poor，poorNile！whichreflectedformerlyonitswarmmirrortheutmostofearthlysplendour，whichboreinitstimesomanybarquesofgodsandgoddessesinprocessionbehindthegoldenbargeofAmen，andknewinthedawnoftheagesonlyanimpeccablepurity，alikeofthehumanformandofarchitecturaldesign！Whatadownfallishere！TobeawakenedfromthatdisdainfulsleepoftwentycenturiesandmadetocarrythefloatingbarracksofThomasCook&Son，tofeedsugarfactories，andtoexhaustitselfinnourishingwithitsmudtherawmaterialforEnglishcotton—stuffs.
　　CHAPTERXII
　　INTHETEMPLEOFTHEGODDESSOFLOVEANDJOY
　　ItisthemonthofMarch，butasgayandsplendidasinourJune.
　　Aroundusarefieldsofcorn，oflucerne，andthefloweringbean.Andtheairisfullofrestlessbirds，singingdeliriouslyforveryjoyinthevoluptuousbusinessoftheirnestsandcoveys.Ourwayliesoverafertilesoil，saturatedwithvitalsubstances——someparadiseforbeastsnodoubt，fortheyswarmoneveryside：flocksofgoatswithathousandbleatingkids;she—asseswiththeirfriskingyoung;cowsandcow—buffaloesfeedingtheircalves;allturnedlooseamongthecrops，tobrowseattheirleisure，asiftherewerehereasuperabundanceoftherichesofthesoil.
　　Whatcountryisthisthatshowsnosignofhumanhabitation，thatknowsnovillage，noranydistantspire？Thecropsarelikeoursathome——wheat，lucerne，andthefloweringbeanthatperfumestheairwithitswhiteblossoms.Butthereisanexcessoflightintheskyand，inthedistance，anextraordinaryclearness.Andthenthesefertileplains，thatmightbethoseofsome"PromisedLand，"seemtobeboundedfaraway，onleftandright，bytwoparallelstonewalls，twochainsofrose—colouredmountains，whoseaspectisobviouslydesertlike.Besides，amongstthenumerousanimalsthatarefamiliar，therearecamels，feedingtheirstrangenurslingsthatlooklikefour—
　　leggedostriches.Andfinallysomepeasantsappearbeyondinthecornfields;theyareveiledinlongblackdraperies.ItistheEastthen，anAfricanland，orsomeoasisofArabia？
　　Thesunatthismomentishiddenfromusbyabandofclouds，thatstretches，rightaboveourhead，fromoneendoftheskytotheother，likealongskeinofwhitewool.Itisaloneinthebluevoid，andseemstomakemorepeaceful，andevenalittlemysterious，thewonderfullightofthefieldswetraverse——thesefieldsintoxicatedwithlifeandvibrantwiththemusicofbirds;while，bycontrast，thedistantlandscape，unshadedbyclouds，isresplendentwithamoreincisiveclearnessandthedesertbeyondseemsdelugedwithrays.
　　Thepathwaythatwehavebeenfollowing，illdefinedasitisinthegrassyfields，leadsusatlengthunderalargeruinousportico——arelicofgoodnessknowswhatoldendays——whichstillriseshere，quiteisolated，altogetherstrangeandunexpected，inthemidstofthegreenexpanseofpastureandtillage.Wehadseenitfromagreatdistance，sopureandclearistheair;andinapproachingitweperceivethatitiscolossal，andinreliefonitslintelisdesignedaglobewithtwolongwingsoutspreadsymmetrically.
　　Itbehovesusnowtomakeobeisancewithalmostreligiousreverence，forthiswingeddiscisasymbolwhichgivesatlengthanindicationoftheplaceimmediateandabsolute.ItisEgypt，thecountry——Egypt，ourancientmother.Andtherebeforeusmustoncehavestoodatemplereverencedofthepeople，orsomegreatvanishedtown;itsfragmentsofcolumnsandsculpturedcapitalsarestrewnaboutinthefieldsoflucerne.Howinexplicableitseemsthatthislandofancientsplendours，whichneverceasedindeedtobenutritiveandprodigiouslyfertile，shouldhavereturned，forsomehundredsofyearsnow，tothehumblepastorallifeofthepeasants.
　　Throughthegreencropsandtheassembledherdsourpathwayseemstoleadtoakindofhillrisingaloneinthemidstoftheplains——ahillwhichisneitherofthesamecolournorthesamenatureasthemountainsofthesurroundingdeserts.Behindustheporticorecedeslittlebylittleinthedistance;itstallimposingsilhouette，asmournfulandsolitary，throwsaninfinitesadnessonthisseaofmeadows，whichspreadtheirpeacewhereoncewasacentreofmagnificence.
　　Thewindnowrisesinsharp，lashinggusts——thewindofEgyptthatneverseemstofall，andisbitterandwintryforalltheburningofthesun.Thegrowingcornbendsbeforeit，showingtheglossofitsyoungquiveringleaves，andtheherdedbeastsmoveclosetooneanotherandturntheirbackstothesquall.
　　Aswedrawnearertothissingularhillitisrevealedasamassofruins.Andtheruinsareallofakind，ofabrownish—red.TheyaretheremainsofthecolonialtownsoftheRomans，whichsubsistedhereforsometwoorthreehundredyears（analmostnegligiblemomentoftimeinthelonghistoryofEgypt），andthenfelltopieces，tobecomeintimemereshapelessmoundsonthefertilemarginsoftheNileandsometimeseveninthesubmergingsands.
　　Aheapoflittlereddishbricksthatoncewerefashionedintohouses;
　　aheapofbrokenjarsoramphorae——myriadsofthem——thatservedtocarrythewaterfromtheoldnourishingriver;andtheremainsofwalls，repairedatdiverseepochs，wherestonesinscribedwithhieroglyphslieupsidedownagainstfragmentsofGrecianobelisksorCopticsculpturesorRomancapitals.Inourcountries，wherethepastisofyesterday，wehavenothingresemblingsuchachaosofdeadthings.
　　Nowadaysthesanctuaryisreachedthroughalargecuttinginthishillofruins;incredibleheapsofbricksandbrokenpotteryencloseitonallsideslikeajealousrampart.Untilrecentlyindeedtheycovereditalmosttoitsroof.Fromtheveryfirstitsappearanceisdisconcerting：itissogrand，soaustereandgloomy.Astrangedwelling，tobesure，fortheGoddessofLoveandJoy.ItseemsmorefittobethehomeofthePrinceofDarknessandofDeath.Aseveredoorway，builtofgiganticstonesandsurmountedbyawingeddisc，opensontoanasylumofreligiousmystery，ontodepthswheremassivecolumnsdisappearinthedarknessofdeepnight.
　　Immediatelyonenteringthereisacoolnessandaresonanceasofasepulchre.First，thepronaos，wherewestillseeclearly，betweenpillarscarvedwithhieroglyphs.Wereitnotforthelargehumanfaceswhichserveforthecapitalsofthecolumns，andaretheimageofthelovelyHathor，thegoddessoftheplace，thistempleofthedecadentepochwouldscarcelydifferfromthosebuiltinthiscountrytwothousandyearsbefore.Ithasthesamesquaremassiveness.
　　Andinthedarkblueceilingstherearethesamefrescoes，filledwithstars，withthesignsoftheZodiac，andseriesofwingeddiscs;inbas—reliefonthewalls，thesamemultitudinouscrowdofpeoplewhogesticulateandmakesignstooneanotherwiththeirhands——eternallythesamemysterioussigns，repeatedtoinfinity，everywhere——inthepalaces，thehypogea，thesyringes，andonthesarcophagiandpapyriofthemummies.
　　TheMemphiteandThebantemples，whichprecededthisbysomanycenturies，andfarsurpasseditingrandeur，havealllost，inconsequenceofthefallingoftheenormousgranitesoftheirroofs，theircherishedgloom，and，whatisthesamething，theirreligiousmystery.ButinthetempleofthelovelyHathor，onthecontrary，exceptforsomefiguresmutilatedbythehammersofChristiansorMoslems，everythinghasremainedintact，andtheloftyceilingsstillthrowtheirfearsomeshadows.
　　Thegloomdeepensinthehypostylewhichfollowsthepronaos.Thencome，oneafteranother，twohallsofincreasingholiness，wherethedaylightentersregretfullythroughnarrowloopholes，barelylightingthesuperposedrowsofinnumerablefiguresthatgesticulateonthewalls.Andthen，afterothermajesticcorridors，wereachtheheartofthisheapofterriblestones，theholyofholies，envelopedindeepgloom.Thehieroglyphicinscriptionsnamethisplacethe"HallofMystery"andformerlythehighpriest/alone，andheonlyonceineachyear/，hadtherighttoenteritfortheperformanceofsomenowunknownrites.
　　The"HallofMystery"isemptyto—day，despoiledlongsinceoftheemblemsofgoldandpreciousstonesthatoncefilledit.Themeagrelittleflamesofthecandleswehavelitscarcelypiercethedarknesswhichthickensoverourheadstowardsthegraniteceilings;atthemosttheyonlyallowustodistinguishonthewallsofthevastrectangularcaverntheserriedranksoffigureswhoexchangeamongthemselvestheirdisconcertingmuteconversations.
　　TowardstheendoftheancientandatthebeginningoftheChristianera，Egypt，asweknow，stillexercisedsuchafascinationovertheworld，byitsancestralprestige，bythememoryofitsdominatingpast，andthesovereignpermanenceofitsruins，thatitimposeditsgodsuponitsconquerors，itshandwriting，itsarchitecture，nay，evenitsreligiousritesanditsmummies.ThePtolemiesbuilttempleshere，whichreproducethoseofThebesandAbydos.EventheRomans，althoughtheyhadalreadydiscoveredthe/vault/，followedheretheprimitivemodels，andcontinuedthosegraniteceilings，madeofmonstrousslabs，placedflat，likeourbeams.AndsothistempleofHathor，builtthoughitwasinthetimeofCleopatraandAugustus，onasitevenerableintheoldestantiquity，recallsatfirstsightsomeconceptionoftheRamses.
　　If，however，youexamineitmoreclosely，thereappears，particularlyinthethousandsoffiguresinbas—relief，aconsiderabledivergence.
　　Theposesarethesameindeed，andsotooarethetraditionalgestures.Buttheexquisitegraceoflineisgone，aswellasthehieraticcalmoftheexpressionsandthesmiles.IntheEgyptianartofthebestperiodstheslenderfiguresareaspureastheflowerstheyholdintheirhands;theirmusclesmaybeindicatedinapreciseandskilfulmanner，buttheyremain，forallthat，immaterial.ThegodAmenhimself，theprocreator，drawnoftenwithanabsolutecrudity，wouldseemchastecomparedwiththehostsofthistemple.Forhere，onthecontrary，thefiguresmightbethoseoflivingpeople，palpitatingandvoluptuous，whohadposedthemselvesforsportintheseconsecratedattitudes.Thethroatofthebeautifulgoddess，herhips，herunveilednakedness，areportrayedwithasearchingandlingeringrealism;thefleshseemsalmosttoquiver.Sheandherspouse，thebeautifulHorus，sonofIris，contemplateeachother，naked，onebeforetheother，andtheirlaughingeyesareintoxicatedwithlove.
　　Aroundtheholyofholiesisanumberofhalls，indeepshadowandmassiveassomanyfortresses.Theywereusedformerlyformysteriousandcomplicatedrites，andinthem，aseverywhereelse，thereisnocornerofthewallbutisoverloadedwithfiguresandhieroglyphs.
　　Batsareasleepintheblueceilings，wherethewingeddiscs，paintedinfresco，looklikeflightsofbirds;andthehornetsoftheneighbouringfieldshavebuilttheirneststhereinhundreds，sothattheyhanglikestalactites.
　　Severalstaircasesleadtothevastterracesformedbythegreatroofsofthetemple——staircasesnarrow，stiflinganddimlylightedbyloopholesthatrevealtheheart—breakingthicknessofthewalls.Andhereagainaretheinevitablerowsoffigures，carvedonallthewalls，inthesamefamiliarattitudes;theymountwithusasweascend，makingallthetimetheself—samesignsonetoanother.
　　Asweemergeontotheroofs，bathednowinEgyptiansunlightandsweptbyacoldandbitterwind，wearegreetedbyanoiseasofanaviary.Itisthekingdomofthesparrows，whohavebuilttheirnestsinthousandsinthistempleofthecomplaisantgoddess.Theytwitternowalltogetherandwithalltheirmightoutofveryjoyofliving.
　　Itisanesplanade，thisroof——asolitudepavedwithgiganticflagstones.Fromitwesee，beyondtheheapsofruins，thosehappyplains，whicharespreadoutwithsuchaperfectserenityontheverygroundwhereoncestoodthetownofDenderah，belovedofHathorandoneofthemostfamousofUpperEgypt.Exquisitelygreenaretheseplainswiththenewgrowthofwheatandlucerneandbean;andtheherdsthataregroupedhereandthereonthefreshverdureofthelevelpastures，swayingnowandundulatinginthewind，looklikesomanydarkpatches.Andthetwochainsofmountainsofrose—colouredstone，thatrunparallel——ontheeastthatofthedesertofArabia，onthewestthatoftheLibyandesert——enclose，inthedistance，thisvalleyoftheNile，thislandofplenty，which，alikeinantiquityasinourdays，hasexcitedthegreedofpredatoryraces.Thetemplehasalsosomeundergrounddependenciesorcryptsintowhichyoudescendbystaircasesasofdungeons;sometimesevenyouhavetocrawlthroughholestoreachthem.Longsuperposedgallerieswhichmightserveashiding—placesfortreasure;longcorridorsrecallingthosewhich，inbaddreams，threatentocloseinandburyyou.Andtheinnumerablefigures，ofcourse，areheretoo，gesticulatingonthewalls;andendlessrepresentationsofthelovelygoddess，whoseswellingbosom，whichhaspreservedalmostintactthefleshcolourappliedinthetimesofthePtolemies，wehaveperforcetograzeaswepass.
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　　Inoneofthevestibulesthatwehavetotraverseonourwayoutofthesanctuary，amongstthenumerousbas—reliefsrepresentingvarioussovereignspayinghomagetothebeautifulHathor，isoneofayoungman，crownedwitharoyaltiarashapedliketheheadofauraeus.HeisshownseatedinthetraditionalPharaonicposeandisnoneotherthantheEmperorNero！
　　Thehieroglyphsofthecartouchearetheretoaffirmhisidentity，albeitthesculptor，notknowinghisactualphysiognomy，hasgivenhimthetraditionalfeatures，regularasthoseofthegodHorus.DuringthecenturiesoftheRomandominationtheWesternemperorsusedtosendfromhomeinstructionsthattheirlikenessshouldbeplacedonthewallsofthetemples，andthatofferingsshouldbemadeintheirnametotheEgyptiandivinities——andthisnotwithstandingthatintheireyesEgyptmusthaveseemedsofaraway，acolonyalmostattheendoftheearth.（Anditwassuchagoddessasthis，ofsecondaryrankinthetimesofthePharaohs，thatwassingledoutasthefavouriteoftheRomansofthedecadence.）
　　TheEmperorNero！Asamatteroffactattheverytimethesebas—
　　reliefs——almostthelast——andtheseexpiringhieroglyphicswerebeinginscribed，theconfusedprimitivetheogonieshadalmostreachedtheirendandthedaysoftheGoddessofJoywerenumbered.TherehadbeenconceivedinJudaeasymbolsmoreloftyandmorepure，whichweretoruleagreatpartoftheworldfortwothousandyears——afterwards，alas，todeclineintheirturn;andmenwereabouttothrowthemselvespassionatelyintorenunciation，asceticismandfraternalpity.
　　Howstrangeitistosay！Evenwhilethesculptorwascarvingthisarchaicbas—relief，andwasusing，fortheengravingofitsname，charactersthatdatedbacktothenightoftheages，therewerealreadyChristiansassembledinthecatacombsatRomeanddyinginecstasyinthearena！
　　CHAPTERXIII
　　MODERNLUXOR
　　ThewatersoftheNilebeingalreadylowmydahabiya——delayedbystrandings——hadnotbeenabletoreachLuxor，andwehadmooredourselves，asthedarknessbegantofall，atacasualspotonthebank.
　　"Wearequitenear，"thepilothadtoldmebeforedepartingtomakehiseveningprayer;"inanhour，to—morrow，weshallbethere."
　　Andthegentlenightdescendeduponusinthisspotwhichdidnotseemtodifferatallfromsoanyotherswhere，foramonthpastnow，wehadmooredourboatathazardtoawaitthedaybreak.Onthebanksweredarkconfusedmassesoffoliage，abovewhichhereandthereahighdate—palmoutlineditsblackplumes.TheairwasfilledwiththemultitudinouschirpingsofthecricketsofUpperEgypt，whichmaketheirmusicherealmostthroughouttheyearintheodorouswarmthofthegrass.And，presently，inthemidstofthesilence，rosethecriesofthenightbirds，likethemournfulmewingsofcats.Andthatwasall——savefortheinfinitecalmofthedesertthatisalwayspresent，dominatingeverything，althoughscarcelynoticedand，asitwere，latent.
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　　Andthismorning，attherisingofthesun，ispureandsplendidasallothermornings.AtintofrosycoralcomesgraduallytolifeonthesummitoftheLibyanmountains，standingoutfromthegridelinshadowswhich，intheheavens，weretherearguardofthenight.
　　Butmyeyes，grownaccustomedduringthelastfewweekstothisgloriousspectacleofthedawn，turnthemselves，asifbyforceofsomeattraction，towardsastrangeandquiteunusualthing，which，lessthanamileawayalongtheriver，ontheArabianbank，risesuprightinthemidstofthemournfulplains.Atfirstitlookslikeamassoftoweringrocks，whichinthishouroftwilightmagichavetakenonapalevioletcolour，andseemalmosttransparent.Andthesun，scarcelyemergedfromthedesert，lightstheminacuriousgradation，andorderstheircontourswithafringeoffreshrose—
　　colour.Andtheyarenotrocks，infact，foraswelookmoreclosely，theyshowuslinessymmetricalandstraight.Notrocks，butarchitecturalmasses，tremendousandsuperhuman，placedthereinattitudesofquasi—eternalstability.Andoutofthemrisethepointsoftwoobelisks，sharpasthebladeofalance.Andthen，atonce，I
　　understand——Thebes！
　　Thebes！LasteveningitwashiddenintheshadowandIdidnotknowitwassonear.ButThebesassuredlyitis，fornothingelseintheworldcouldproducesuchanapparition.AndIsalutewithakindofshudderofrespectthisuniqueandsovereignruin，whichhadhauntedmeformanyyears，butwhichuntilnowlifehadnotleftmetimetovisit.
　　AndnowforLuxor，whichintheepochofthePharaohswasasuburboftheroyaltown，andisstillitsport.Itisthere，itseems，wherewemuststopourdahabiyainordertoproceedtothefabulouspalacewhichtherisingsunhasjustdisclosedtous.
　　Andwhilemyequipageofbronze——intoningthatsong，asoldasEgyptandeverlastinglythesame，whichseemstohelpthemenintheirarduouswork——isbusyunfasteningthechainwhichbindsustothebank，Icontinuetowatchthedistantapparition.Itemergesgraduallyfromthelightmorningmistswhich，perhaps，madeitseemevenlargerthanitis.Theclearlightoftheascendingsunshowsitnowindetail;andrevealsitasallbattered，brokenandruinousinthemidstofasilentplain，ontheyellowcarpetofthedesert.Andhowthissun，risinginitsclearsplendour，seemstocrushitwithitsyouthandstupendousduration.Thissamesunhadattainedtoitspresentroundform，hadacquiredtheclearprecisionofitsdisc，andbegunitsdailypromenadeoverthecountryofthesands，countlesscenturiesofcenturies，beforeitsaw，asitmightbeyesterday，thistownofThebesarise;anattemptatmagnificencewhichseemedtopromiseforthehumanpygmiesasufficientlyinterestingfuture，butwhich，intheevent，wehavenotbeenableeventoequal.Anditproved，too，athingquitepunyandderisory，sincehereitislaidlow，afterhavingsubsistedbarelyfournegligiblethousandsofyears.
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　　AnhourlaterwearriveatLuxor，andwhatasurpriseawaitsusthere！
　　Thethingwhichdominatesthewholetown，andmaybeseenfiveorsixmilesaway，istheWinterPalace，ahastymodernproductionwhichhasgrownontheborderoftheNileduringthepastyear：acolossalhotel，obviouslysham，madeofplasterandmud，onaframeworkofiron.TwiceorthreetimesashighastheadmirablePharaonicTemple，itsimpudentfacaderisesthere，paintedadirtyyellow.Onesuchthing，itwillreadilybeunderstood，issufficienttodisfigurepitiablythewholeofthesurroundings.TheoldArabtown，withitslittlewhitehouses，itsminaretsanditspalm—trees，mightaswellnotexist.ThefamoustempleandtheforestofheavyOsirideancolumnsadmirethemselvesinvaininthewatersoftheriver.ItistheendofLuxor.
　　Andwhatacrowdofpeopleishere！While，onthecontrary，theoppositebankseemssoabsolutelydesertlike，withitsstretchesofgoldensandand，onthehorizon，itsmountainsofthecolourofglowingembers，which，asweknow，arefullofmummies.
　　PoorLuxor！Alongthebanksisarowoftouristboats，asortoftwoorthreestoreyedbarracks，whichnowadaysinfesttheNilefromCairototheCataracts.Theirwhistlingsandthevibrationoftheirdynamosmakeanintolerablenoise.HowshallIfindaquietplaceformydahabiya，wherethefunctionariesofMessrs.Cookwillnotcometodisturbme？
　　WecannowseenothingofthepalacesofThebes，whitherIamtorepairintheevening.Wearefartherfromthemthanwewerelastnight.Theapparitionduringourmorning’sjourneyhadslowlyrecededintheplainsfloodedbysunlight.AndthentheWinterPalaceandthenewboatsshutouttheview.
　　ButthismodernquayofLuxor，whereIdisembarkatteno’clockinthemorninginclearandradiantsunshine，isnotwithoutitsamusingside.
　　InalinewiththeWinterPalaceanumberofstallsfollowoneanother.Allthosethingswithwhichourtouristsarewonttoarraythemselvesareonsalethere：fans，flyflaps，helmetsandbluespectacles.And，inthousands，photographsoftheruins.Andtheretooarethetoys，thesouvenirsoftheSoudan：oldnegroknives，panther—
　　skinsandgazellehorns.NumbersofIndiansevenarecometothisimprovisedfair，bringingtheirstuffsfromRajputanaandCashmere.
　　And，aboveall，therearedealersinmummies，offeringforsalemysteriouslyshapedcoffins，mummy—cloths，deadhands，gods，scarabaei——andthethousandandonethingsthatthisoldsoilhasyieldedforcenturieslikeaninexhaustiblemine.
　　Alongthestalls，keepingintheshadeofthehousesandthescatteredpalms，passrepresentativesoftheplutocracyoftheworld.Dressedbythesamecostumiers，bedeckedinthesameplumes，andwithfacesreddenedbythesamesun，themillionairedaughtersofChicagomerchantselbowtheirsistersoftheoldnobility.PressingamongstthemimpudentyoungBedouinspesterthefairtravellerstomounttheirsaddleddonkeys.Andasiftheywerechargedtoaddtothisbabelanoteofbeauty，thebattalionsofMr.Cook，ofbothsexes，andalwaysinahurry，passbywithlongstrides.
　　Beyondtheshops，followingthelineofthequay，thereareotherhotels.Lessaggressive，allofthem，thantheWinterPalace，theyhavehadthediscretionnottoraisethemselvestoohigh，andtocovertheirfrontswithwhitechalkintheArabfashion，eventoconcealthemselvesinclustersofpalm—trees.
　　AndfinallythereisthecolossaltempleofLuxor，lookingasoutofplacenowasthepoorobeliskwhichEgyptgaveusasapresent，andwhichstandsto—dayinthePlacedelaConcorde.
　　BorderingtheNile，itisacolossalgroveofstone，aboutthreehundredyardsinlength.Inepochsofamagnificencethatisnowscarcelyconceivablethisforestofcolumnsgrewhighandthick，risingimpetuouslyatthebiddingofAmenophisandthegreatRamses.
　　Andhowbeautifulitmusthavebeenevenyesterday，dominatinginitssuperbdisarraythissurroundingcountry，vowedforcenturiestoneglectandsilence！
　　Butto—day，withallthesethingsthatmenhavebuiltaroundit，youmightsaythatitnolongerexists.
　　Wereachaniron—barredgateand，toenter，havetoshowourpermittotheguards.Onceinsidetheimmensesanctuary，perhapsweshallfindsolitudeagain.But，alas，undertheprofanedcolumnsacrowdofpeoplepasses，with/Baedekers/intheirhands，thesamepeoplethatoneseeshereeverywhere，thesameworldasfrequentsNiceandtheRiviera.And，tocrownthemockery，thenoiseofthedynamospursuesusevenhere，fortheboatsofMessrs.Cookaremooredtothebankcloseby.
　　Hundredsofcolumns，columnswhichareanteriorbymanycenturiestothoseofGreece，andrepresent，intheirna？veenormity，thefirstconceptionsofthehumanbrain.Someareflutedandgivetheimpressionofsheavesofmonstrousweeds;others，quiteplainandsimple，imitatethestemofthepapyrus，andbearbywayofcapitalitsstrangeflower.Thetourists，liketheflies，enteratcertaintimesoftheday，whichitsufficestoknow.Soonthelittlebellsofthehotelswillcallthemawayandthehourofmiddaywillfindmeherealone.Butwhatinheaven’snamewilldelivermefromthenoiseofthedynamos？Butlook！beyondthere，atthebottomofthesanctuaries，inthepartwhichshouldbetheholyofholies，thatgreatfresco，nowhalfeffaced，butstillclearlyvisibleonthewall——howunexpectedandarrestingitis！AnimageofChrist！ChristcrownedwiththeByzantineaureole.Ithasbeenpaintedonacoarseplaster，whichseemstohavebeenaddedbyanunskilfulhand，andiswearingoffandexposingthehieroglyphsbeneathThistemple，infact，almostindestructiblebyreasonofitsmassiveness，haspassedthroughthehandsofdiversemasters.ItsantiquitywasalreadylegendaryinthetimeofAlexandertheGreat，onwhosebehalfachapelwasaddedtoit;andlateron，inthefirstagesofChristianity，acorneroftheruinswasturnedintoacathedral.Thetouristsbegintodepart，forthelunchbellcallsthemtotheneighbouring/tablesd’hote/;andwhileIwaittilltheyshallbegone，Ioccupymyselfinfollowingthebas—reliefswhicharedisplayedforalengthofmorethanahundredyardsalongthebaseofthewalls.Itisonelongrowofpeoplemovingintheirthousandsallinthesamedirection——theritualprocessionoftheGodAmen.WiththecarewhichcharacterisedtheEgyptianstodraweverythingfromlifesoastorenderiteternal，therearerepresentedherethesmallestdetailsofadayoffestivalthreeorfourthousandyearsago.Andhowlikeitistoaholidayofthepeopleofto—day！Alongtherouteoftheprocessionarerangedjugglersandsellersofdrinksandfruits，andnegroacrobatswhowalkontheirhandsandtwistthemselvesintoallkindsofcontortions.Buttheprocessionitselfwasevidentlyofamagnificencesuchaswenolongerknow.Thenumberofmusiciansandpriests，ofcorporations，ofemblemsandbanners，isquitebewildering.TheGodAmenhimselfcamebywater，ontheriver，inhisgoldenbargewithitsraisedprow，followedbythebarquesofalltheothergodsandgoddessesofhisheaven.Thereddishstone，carvedwithminutecare，tellsmeallthis，asithasalreadytoldittosomanydeadgenerations，sothatIseemalmosttoseeit.
　　Andnoweverybodyhasgone：thecolonnadesareemptyandthenoiseofthedynamoshasceased.Middayapproacheswithitstorpor.Thewholetempleseemstobeablazewithrays，andIwatchtheclear—cutshadowscastbythisforestofstonegraduallyshorteningontheground.Thesun，whichjustnowshone，allsmilesandgaiety，uponthequayofthenewtownamidtheuproarofthestall—keepers，thedonkeydriversandthecosmopolitanpassengers，castshereasullen，impassiveandconsumingfire.Andmeanwhiletheshadowsshorten——andjustastheydoeveryday，beneaththisskywhichisneverovercast，justastheyhavedoneforfiveandthirtycenturies，thesecolumns，thesefriezesandthistempleitself，likeamysteriousandsolemnsundial，recordpatientlyonthegroundtheslowpassingofthehours.Verilyforus，theephemeraeofthought，thisunbrokencontinuityofthesunofEgypthasmoreofmelancholyeventhanthechanging，overcastskiesofourclimate.
　　Andnow，atlast，thetempleisrestoredtosolitudeandallnoiseintheneighbourhoodhasceased.
　　Anavenueborderedbyveryhighcolumns，ofwhichthecapitalsareintheformofthefull—blownflowersofthepapyrus，leadsmetoaplaceshutinandalmostterrible，whereismassedanassemblyofcolossi.
　　Two，who，iftheywerestanding，wouldbequitetenyardsinheight，areseatedonthronesoneithersideoftheentrance.Theothers，rangedonthethreesidesofthecourtyard，standuprightbehindcolonnades，butlookasiftheywereabouttoissuethenceandtostriderapidlytowardsme.Somebrokenandbattered，havelosttheirfacesandpreserveonlytheirintimidatingattitude.Thosethatremainintact——whitefacesbeneaththeirSphinx’sheadgear——opentheireyeswideandsmile.
　　Thiswasformerlytheprincipalentrance，andtheofficeofthesecolossiwastowelcomethemultitudes.Butnowthegatesofhonourflankedbyobelisksofredgranite，areobstructedbyalitterofenormousruins.Andthecourtyardhasbecomeaplacevoluntarilyclosed，wherenothingoftheoutsideworldisanylongertobeseen.
　　Inmomentsofsilence，onecanabstractoneselffromalltheneighbouringmodernthings，andforgetthehour，theday，thecenturyeven，inthemidstofthesegiganticfigures，whosesmiledisdainstheflightofages.Thegraniteswithinwhichweareimmured——andinsuchterriblecompany——shutouteverythingsavethepointofanoldneighbouringminaretwhichshowsnowagainsttheblueofthesky：ahumblegraftofIslamwhichgrewhereamongsttheruinssomecenturiesago，whentheruinsthemselveshadalreadysubsistedforthreethousandyears——alittlemosquebuiltonamassofdebris，whichitnewprotectswithitsinviolability.Howmanytreasuresandrelicsanddocumentsarehiddenandguardedbythismosqueoftheperistyle！Fornonewoulddaretodiginthegroundwithinitssacredwalls.
　　Graduallythesilenceofthetemplebecomesprofound.Andiftheshortenedshadowsbetraythehourofnoon，thereisnothingtotelltowhatmillenniumthathourbelongs.Thesilencesandmiddaysliketothis，whichhavepassedbeforetheeyesofthesegiantsambushedintheircolonnades——whocouldcountthem？
　　Highaboveus，lostintheincandescentblue，soarthebirdsofprey——
　　andtheywerethereinthetimesofthePharaohs，displayingintheairidenticalplumages，utteringthesamecries.Thebeastsandplants，inthecourseoftime，havevariedlessthanmen，andremainunchangedinthesmallestdetails.
　　Eachofthecolossiaroundme——standingthereproudlywithonelegadvancedasifforamarch，heavyandsure，whichnothingshouldwithstand——graspspassionatelyinhisclenchedfist，attheendofthemusculararm，akindofbuckledcross，whichinEgyptwasthesymbolofeternallife.Andthisiswhatthedecisionoftheirmovementsymbolises：confidentalloftheminthispoorbaublewhichtheyholdintheirhand，theycrosswithatriumphantstepthethresholdofdeath"EternalLife"——thethoughtofimmortality——howthehumansoulhasbeenobsessedbyit，particularlyintheperiodsmarkedbyitsgreateststrivings！Thetamesubmissiontothebeliefthattherottennessofthegraveistheendofallischaracteristicofagesofdecadenceandmediocrity.
　　Thethreesimilargiants，littledamagedinthecourseoftheirlongexistence，whoaligntheeasternsideofthiscourtyardstrewnwithblocks，represent，asindeeddoalltheothers，thatsameRamsesII.，whoseeffigywasmultipliedsoextravagantlyatThebesandMemphis.
　　Butthesethreehavepreservedapowerfulandimpetuouslife.Theymighthavebeencarvedandpolishedyesterday.Betweenthemonstrousreddishpillars，theylooklikewhiteapparitionsissuingfromtheirembrasureofcolumnsandadvancingtogetherlikesoldiersatmanoeuvres.Thesunatthismomentfallsperpendicularlyontheirheadsandstrangeheadgear，detailstheireverlastingsmile，andthenshedsitselfontheirshouldersandtheirnakedtorso，exaggeratingtheirathleticmuscles.Eachholdinginhishandthesymbolicalcross，thethreegiantsrushforwardwithaformidablestride，headsraised，smiling，inaradiantmarchintoeternity.
　　Oh！thismiddaysun，thatnowpoursdownuponthewhitefacesofthesegiants，anddisplaceseversoslowlytheshadowscastupontheirbreastsbytheirchinsandOsirideanbeards.Tothinkhowofteninthemidstofthissamesilence，thissamerayhasfallenthus，fallenfromthesamechangelesssky，tooccupyitselfinthissametranquilplay！
　　Yes，Ithinkthatthefogsandrainsofourwinters，uponthesestupendousruins，wouldbelesssadandlessterriblethanthecalmofthiseternalsunshine.
　　*****
　　Suddenlyaridiculousnoisebeginstomaketheairtremble;thedynamosoftheAgencieshavebeenputinmotion，andladiesingreenspectaclesarrive，acharmingthrong，withguidebooksandcameras.Thetourists，inshort，arecomeoutoftheirhotels，atthesamehourasthefliesawake.AndthemiddaypeaceofLuxorhascometoanend.
　　CHAPTERXIV
　　ATWENTIETH—CENTURYEVENINGATTHEBES
　　Animpalpabledustfloatsinaskywhichscarcelyeverknowsacloud;
　　adustsoimpalpablethat，evenwhileitpowderstheheavenswithgold，itleavesthemtheirinfinitetransparency.Itisadustofremoteages，ofthingsdestroyed;adustthatisherecontinually——ofwhichthegoldatthismomentfadestogreenatthezenith，butflamesandglistensinthewest，foritisnowthatmagnificenthourwhichmarkstheendoftheday’sdecline，andthestillburningglobeofthesun，quitelowdownintheheaven，beginstolightuponallsidestheconflagrationoftheevening.
　　Thissettingsunillumineswithsplendourasilentchaosofgranite，whichisnotthatoftheslippingofmountains，butthatofruins.Andofsuchruinsas，tooureyesunaccustomedhereditarilytoproportionssogigantic，seemsuperhuman.Inplaces，hugemassesofcarvenstone——
　　pylons——stillstandupright，risinglikehills.Othersarecrumblinginalldirectionsinbewilderingcataractsofstone.Itisdifficulttoconceivehowthesethings，somassivethattheymighthaveseemedeternal，couldcometosuffersuchanutterruin.Fragmentsofcolumns，fragmentsofobelisks，brokenbydownfallsofwhichthemereimaginationisawful，headsandhead—dressesofgiantdivinities，allliehiggledy—piggledyinadisorderbeyondpossibleredress.Nowheresurelyonourearthdoesthesuninhisdailyrevolutioncasthislightonsuchdebrisasthis，onsuchalitterofvanishedpalacesanddeadcolossi.
　　Itwasevenhere，sevenoreightthousandyearsago，underthispurecrystalsky，thatthefirstawakeningofhumanthoughtbegan.OurEuropethenwasstillsleeping，wrappedinthemantleofitsdampforests;sleepingthatsleepwhichstillhadthousandsofyearstorun.Here，aprecocioushumanity，onlyrecentlyemergedfromtheAgeofStone，thatearliestformofall，aninfanthumanity，whichsawmassivelyonitsissuefromthemassivenessoftheoriginalmatter，conceivedandbuiltterriblesanctuariesforgods，atfirstdreadfulandvague，suchasitsnascentreasonallowedittoconceivethem.
　　Thenthefirstmegalithicblockswereerected;thenbeganthatmadheapingupandup，whichwastolastnearlyfiftycenturies;andtempleswerebuiltabovetemples，palacesoverpalaces，eachgenerationstrivingtooutdoitspredecessorbyamoretitanicgrandeur.
　　Afterwards，fourthousandyearsago，Thebeswasintheheightofherglory，encumberedwithgodsandwithmagnificence，thefocusofthelightoftheworldinthemostancienthistoricperiods;whileourOccidentwasstillasleepandGreeceandAssyriawerescarcelyawakened.OnlyintheextremeEast，ahumanityofadifferentrace，theyellowpeople，calledtofollowintotallydifferentways，wasfixing，sothattheyremaineventoourday，theobliquelinesofitsangularroofsandtherictusofitsmonsters.
　　ThemenofThebes，iftheystillsawtoomassivelyandtoovastly，atleastsawstraight;theysawcalmly，atthesametimeastheysawforever.Theirconceptions，whichhadbeguntoinspirethoseofGreece，wereafterwardsinsomemeasuretoinspireourown.Inreligion，inart，inbeautyunderallitsaspects，theywereasmuchourancestorsasweretheAryans.
　　Lateragain，sixteenhundredyearsbeforethebirthofChrist，inoneoftheapogeesofthetownwhich，inthecourseofitsinterminableduration，experiencedsomanyfluctuations，someostentatiouskingsthoughtfittobuildonthisground，alreadycoveredwithtemples，thatwhichstillremainsthemostarrestingmarveloftheruins：thehypostylehall，dedicatedtotheGodAmen，withitsforestofcolumns，asmonstrousasthetrunkofthebaobabandashighastowers，comparedwithwhichthepillarsofourcathedralsareutterlyinsignificant.InthosedaysthesamegodsreignedatThebesasthreethousandyearsbefore，butintheintervaltheyhadbeentransformedlittlebylittleinaccordancewiththeprogressivedevelopmentofhumanthought，andAmen，thehostofthisprodigioushall，assertedhimselfmoreandmoreasthesovereignmasteroflifeandeternity.
　　PharaonicEgyptwasreallytending，inspiteofsomerevolts，towardsthenotionofadivineunity;even，onemightsay，tothenotionofasupremepity，forshealreadyhadherApis，emanatingfromtheAll—
　　Powerful，bornofavirginmother，andcomehumblytotheearthinordertomakeacquaintancewithsuffering.
　　AfterSetiI.andtheRamseshadbuilt，inhonourofAmen，thistemple，which，beyondalldoubt，isthegrandestandmostdurableintheworld，menstillcontinuedforanotherfifteencenturiestoheapupinitsneighbourhoodthoseblocksofgraniteandmarbleandsandstone，whoseenormitynowamazesus.EvenfortheinvadersofEgypt，theGreeksandRomans，thisoldancestraltownoftownsremainedimposingandunique.Theyrepaireditsruins，andbuiltheretempleaftertemple，inastylewhichhardlyeverchanges.Evenintheagesofdecadenceeverythingthatraiseditselffromtheold，sacredsoil，seemedtobeimpregnatedalittlewiththeancientgrandeur.
　　AnditwasonlywhentheearlyChristiansruledhere，andafterthemtheMoslemiconoclasts，thatthedestructionbecamefinal.Tothesenewbelievers，who，intheirsimplicity，imaginedthemselvestobepossessedoftheultimatereligiousformulaandtoknowbyHisrightnamethegreatUnknowable，Thebesbecamethehauntof"falsegods，"
　　theabominationofabominations，whichitbehovedthemtodestroy.
　　Andsotheysettowork，penetratingwithanever—presentfearintotheprofounddepthsofthegloomysanctuaries，mutilatingfirstofallthethousandsofvisageswhosedisconcertingsmilefrightenedthem，andthenexhaustingthemselvesintheefforttouprootthecolossi，whichevenwiththehelpoflevers，theycouldnotmove.Itwasnoeasytaskindeed，foreverythingwasassolidasgeologicalmasses，asrocksorpromontories.Butforfiveorsixhundredyearsthetownwasgivenovertothecapriceofdesecrators.
　　Andthencamethecenturiesofsilenceandoblivionundertheshroudofthedesertsands，which，thickeningeachyear，proceededtobury，and，intheevent，topreserveforus，thispeerlessrelic.
　　Andnow，atlast，Thebesisbeingexhumedandrestoredtoasemblanceoflife——now，afteracycleofsevenoreightthousandyears，whenourWesternhumanity，havinglefttheprimitivegodsthatweseehere，toembracetheChristianconception，which，evenyesterday，madeitlive，isinwayofdenyingeverything，andstrugglesbeforetheenigmaofdeathinanobscuritymoredismalandmorefearfulthaninthecommencementoftheages.（Moredismalandmorefearfulstillinthis，thatpleaofyouthisgone.）FromallpartsofEuropecuriousandunquietspirits，aswellasmereidlers，turntheirstepstowardsThebes，theancientmother.Mencleartherubbishfromitsremains，devisewaysofretardingtheenormousfallingsofitsruins，anddiginitsoldsoil，storedwithhiddentreasure.
　　AndthiseveningononeoftheportalstowhichIhavejustmounted——
　　thatwhichopensatthenorth—westandterminatesthecolossalarteryoftemplesandpalaces，manyverydiversegroupshavealreadytakentheirplaces，afterthepilgrimageofthedayamongsttheruins.Andothersarehasteningtowardsthestaircasebywhichwehavejustclimbed，soasnottomissthegrandspectacleofthesunsetting，alwayswiththesameserenity，thesameunchangingmagnificence，behindthetownwhichoncewasconsecratedtoit.
　　French，German，English;Iseethembelow，alotofpygmyfigures，issuingfromthehypostylehall，andmakingtheirwaytowardsus.Meanandpitifultheylookintheirtwentieth—centurytravellers’costumes，hurryingalongthatavenuewhereoncedefiledsomanyprocessionsofgodsandgoddesses.Andyetthis，perhaps，istheonlyoccasiononwhichoneofthesebandsoftouristsdoesnotseemtomealtogetherridiculous.Amongstthesegroupsofunknownpeople，thereisnonewhoisnotcollectedandthoughtful，orwhodoesnotatleastpretendtobeso;andthereissomesavingqualityofgrace，evensomegrandeurofhumility，inthesentimentwhichhasbroughtthemtothistownofAmen，andinthehomageoftheirsilence.
　　Wearesohighonthisportalthatwemightfancyourselvesuponatower，andthedefacedstonesofwhichitisbuiltareimmeasurablylarge.Instinctivelyeachonesitswithhisfacetotheglowingsun，andconsequentlytotheoutspreaddistancesofthefieldsandthedesert.
　　Beforeus，underourfeet，anavenuestretchesaway，prolongingtowardsthefieldsthepompofthedeadcity——anavenueborderedbymonstrousrams，largerthanbuffaloes，allcrouchedontheirpedestalsintwoparallelrowsinthetraditionalhieraticpose.Theavenueterminatesbeyondatakindofwharforlanding—stagewhichformerlygaveontotheNile.ItwastherethattheGodAmen，carriedandfollowedbylongtrainsofpriests，cameeveryyeartotakehisgoldenbargeforasolemnprocession.Butitleadsto—dayonlytothecornfields，for，inthecourseofsuccessivecenturies，theriverhasrecededlittlebylittleandnowwindsitscourseathousandyardsawayinthedirectionofLibya.
　　Wecansee，beyond，theoldsacredNilebetweentheclustersofpalm—
　　treesonitsbanks;meanderingtherelikearosypathway，whichremains，nevertheless，inthishourofuniversalincandescence，astonishinglypale，andgleamsoccasionallywithabluishlight.Andonthefartherbank，fromoneendtotheotherofthewesternhorizon，stretchesthechainoftheLibyanmountainsbehindwhichthesunisabouttoplunge;achainofredsandstone，parchedsincethebeginningoftheworld——withoutarivalinthepreservationtoperpetuityofdeadbodies——whichtheThebansperforatedtoitsextremedepthstofillitwithsarcophagi.