been so arranged that we must begin to think of leaving Fayoum. The province is a delicious place, by reason of its essentially gentle and primitive character, its biblical inhabitants, and the wildness of its vegetation wherever man's hand has not meddled with it. It is a true terrestrial paradise in which pastoral peoples have succeeded each other, all whose efforts have been confined to the culture of their fields. They were the real civilisers of Egyptthese intelligent rustics of the universe, who wanted nothing to aid their progress but the laws of nature seconded by the toil of man.

We were about to quit this living page from the book of Genesis, to plunge into the turmoil of the sickly and restless world which has already invaded Cairo, and undertaken, by dint of steam and electricity to change the scene from that of the Thousand and One Nights, to a copy of the Boulevard Malesherbes and the Rue Tronchet. Let us begin with

steam, let us send away our asses, our camels, and our baggage, and let us go and take our tickets at the station of Medinet-el-Fayoum.

In the first place, the terminus? Well, there was not one then, but there must be one by this time, with fine railings painted green, and brand new clerks

and porters. As it was in our time, a terminus would have been useless; everyone picked up the train just where he liked; it stopped with all the docility of a cab, and, if there are certain stations marked on the time-table, it is simply as an ornament. The stations are frequent, and no matter where, according to the laws of the least foreseen fatality. Supposing a traveller wishes to pluck a wild flower, to shoot a wild duck, or to light his pipe, he stops the train, and all the other travellers are perfectly satisfied. Provided he does not set fire to the carriages, he may get out, prepare his coffee, and eat his breakfast by the roadside.

At about nine in the morning, we got into the train without any further administrative ceremony than shutting the door of our carriage. But we had to remain there for two hours, which, thanks to our albums with which we never parted, was not lost time, for we made several sketches of our neighbours, both male and female, under pretence of taking notes for the administration. The good mission-priest came to see us before we left, and he bade us adieu with tears in his eyes and voice, as he thanked us for the pot of Liebig, with which we had cheered his existence. At the expiration of an hour, the train, com

FAREWELL TO FAYOUM.

139

posed of boxes of the queerest shapes, seemed to us to have some notion of moving. It was not a feint this time, we really were off, carried away for many a day from the beautiful land which we quitted with regret, our boxes and our hearts alike full of the most charming souvenirs.

SKETCH X.

RETURN TO CAIRO.

A Locomotive in Trouble-Gyzeh by Gaslight-Choubrah Roudah— The Nilometer-Bazaars and Mosques-The Persian Ambassador -Women whom one sees, Women whom one does not see, and Women whom one is sorry for having seen-The Departure of the Carpet A Little Soap-Not adieu, but au revoir.

THE line of the railroad is almost parallel to that of the demarcation between the sands and the cultivated land; thus, from a certain point of view, we must not complain too much of the slowness of our funny locomotive. On our left the white line of the desert began to appear; on our right was the most luxuriant vegetation and widely varied landscapes. It was a real magic lantern, and we were jolting along pleasantly in a kind of contented dream, when a loud alarm-whistle signalled a station, meaning an accident. First interlude! No more coals! This was the chief cause. A lot of children were sent running to the nearest village to pick up everything that they could find, and with their contributions were mixed palm-trunks, bushes, and camel's dung; then, the

stomach of the engine being somewhat recruited, we were off again, liberally smoked by the engine, which was unable to digest the unaccustomed diet.

After a while came another blast of the whistle, another station, without an accident this time, and a real station, though there was no sign of any kind of construction or of an official uniform. The village on whose account this stoppage is made lies beside the Nile; it is called El Wastah, and it is a pretty little place, symmetrical, well-regulated, and almost clean. It is a point of junction for the river navigation with the Medinet line. There the barques discharge their cargoes, and take on board the merchandise brought by the trains. Consequently, an immense number of camels are employed there, for the transit service between the Nile and the railway.

This station was not a joke; we had to wait two hours, which we passed very agreeably in breakfasting under the palm-trees, in company with all the dogs of the village, who ranged themselves respectfully in a circle around us, soliciting some remains of duck or chicken. Escorted by our guests, we then inspected El Wastah, admirably situated on the bank of the Nile; the barques, prettily grouped, give the little place the animated look of a little trading port. We were