but it appears to me that the bump of inquisitiveness is not by any means confined to them, but pervades the whole community. There was no shilly-shallying, no delicate, nicely-worded hints and adroitly-put questions; but my interrogator was determined to find out all about me if he could, and so he asked me how long I had been in Cairo, how old I was, if I was married or single, how many children I had, if I lived on my money, and lots of the most impertinent questions, and finally finished up by saying, “Guess you are a Britisher?”
Having, as he thought, pumped me pretty considerably, he was good enough to take me into his confidence, and tell me all about himself, and his belongings, and “hew his father had left him a pile,” adding, “Guess I spend some, and move about a bit.” I could not help saying—
“I think you are wise to pursue that course; travel will improve you a good deal, and, like the marble statuary in the Baulac Museum, it will put on a little polish.”
He eulogised the States and the inhabitants thereof, and was apparently under the impression that America was the only place worth speaking of, winding up with the quite unnecessary announcement—
“I’m ’Merican.”
“Oh, yes,” I replied; “I knew at once you were an American.”
“Yes; is that so?” said he. “Hew did ye know that, stranger?”
“Well,” said I, “by your accent, the estimate you form of your country, and, pardon me for saying so, but no one but an American would have asked me such questions as you have, or manifested such a desire to find out all about me and my affairs.”
He did not appear to be at all annoyed at this remark, but merely said—
“By thunder! stranger, you are a queer coon. Will you come and liquor?”
I declined with thanks, and left young America to ponder over the inscrutable ways and manners of the “darned Britisher.” He was evidently the offspring of a parent who, perchance, had “struck ile,” and had never before forsaken his ancestral home in search of travel and adventure; and, if such was the case, we must excuse the young man. As soon as I left him I sought my bedroom, chronicled the above conversation in my diary, and retired to bed, where I slept soundly.
The following day I and three others formed a party for a visit to the far-famed pyramids of Gizeh. We chartered a carriage, taking our lunch with us; and from the time we left Shepheard’s Hotel until we returned that hateful word, “Backsheesh,” resounded in our ears; indeed, I should say that there is no word in the Egyptian language so frequently on the tip of an Arab tongue as that. I should suppose that the pyramids of Gizeh are about ten miles from Cairo. There is a pretty good road, which was constructed by the former Khedive, Ismail, specially to accommodate the Prince of Wales when he visited the place some years ago. During our drive we could almost have imagined that a line of sentries had been posted all along the road specially to utter that horrid word, “Backsheesh,” so continuously were our tympanums offended with it. Arrived at the base of the Great Pyramid, we are immediately surrounded by a considerable number of Arabs, who are all anxious to assist us in the ascent, of course, for a small consideration; but one of our party having been there once before, knew how to set about matters in a business-like way, so he demanded at once the presence of the Pyramid Sheik, who very soon came. We told him we did not want all this crowd of Arabs, but two each would be sufficient. Accordingly he allotted us these, but as he suggested that a third would be desirable to push us up from behind, we had him. Those who have ascended the Great Pyramid are not likely to forget the dusky demons who accompany them.
I commence the ascent with my body-guard, who appear now to look upon me as a piece of brittle china, and are most anxious to prevent me using my limbs in my own way—they will not let me take a step without their assistance. Directly I had started I found my body-guard considerably augmented, and notwithstanding repeated warnings that I did not want them, and that they would not get any backsheesh, they stuck to me all the way up and back. For the time being I belong solely to these energetic, incessantly-chattering Arabs, whose most strenuous efforts were now put forth to damaging my ball and socket joints.
I have to ascend 203 steps—the lower steps are about four feet high, and few of them less than three feet anywhere. The two Arabs in front get on to the step I have to land on; each seizes an arm, one gets behind, and the hoisting process begins. The latter gives the cue, and with a loud “Ha-hu,” up I go from one step to the other. This game goes on with great rapidity, until I had got about half-way up, where I think it advisable to rest awhile. So down I sat, but soon found that instead of three Arabs I was at once surrounded by about a dozen, all talking most vehemently to me at the same time. It was in vain to protest—all had curiosities, scarabei, little images, and ancient coins, some of them curious, no doubt dating back to the time of Adam. For a small consideration they were all anxious to place these in my possession, and all were shouting into my ear, “Autica efendi, autica.” At last, for peace sake, I bought a small image of a defunct Pharaoh from one, and from another three or four copper coins, all, of course, the only genuine. In vain I protested against having any more. I had no peace until I had bought something from each one; in fact, I had no quiet until I turned all my pockets inside out, showing conclusively that I had spent every piaster with them. After resting awhile, we continued the ascent, and after a succession of ha-hus, tugs, and hoistings, I at last found myself on the summit of the Great Pyramid, and well rewarded for the trouble I had taken.
Here, in this bright, clear atmosphere, I saw stretching out for miles on the west the Libyan Desert, and reaching out before and around us in vast extent the classic and historic hills, rivers, and plains of Ham and Mizraim, Heliopolis, Memphis, Mount Mokattam, Sakhara, the beautiful city of Cairo, with its numberless mosques and slender minarets, skirted by the outstretched Nile, bearing on its placid bosom hundreds of dahabeahs, and on its banks tall waving palm-trees. Nearer is the village of Gizeh, and closer still the remaining pyramids of Gizeh, the granite temple, and the sphinx, the whole forming a picture that cannot be effaced in a life-time.
It is said with some truth, “Time tries all,” but I have also heard it said that “the pyramids try time,” and, upon my word, it almost seems so, when we think of their great antiquity. Here they have stood for thousands of years in majestic grandeur, looking down on many Pharaohs and many dynasties, and witnessing the rise, greatness, and decline of a once mighty nation. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, and Moses have gazed on these huge piles of masonry, which raised their lofty heads long, long before Abraham in a day of famine sought bread at the hands of Pharaoh.
When I had spent some time in gazing again and again on this beautiful scene, and thoroughly succeeded in obtaining a mental photograph of it, I commenced the descent, and found I could get down much more comfortably without assistance than with; but this the pertinacious Arabs would not hear of, they said, on account of the danger to me. But my own private opinion was that they wanted to earn good backsheesh by persistent attention. I resigned myself to my fate, and at last reached the foot of the pyramid by a series of jumps and bumps very trying to my spinal column, and which joggled my internal economy most unpleasantly.
After a short rest, we explored the interior, a rather difficult achievement in some parts. We had brought a good substantial luncheon with us from the hotel, which we thankfully disposed of at a house, or palace, near by. This was specially built, I believe, either for the Prince of Wales or the Empress Eugenie, I really forget which. After lunch we visited the sphinx, two or three tombs, and the other two pyramids, settled up with the sheik, and drove off to our hotel; and not until I reached the steps of the hotel did I hear the last of that hateful word “Backsheesh.” When I retired to rest I dreamt of a pocketful of large copper coins and scarabei, an armful of defunct Pharaohs, an army of lithe, sinewy, swarthy, impecunious Arabs, amongst whom I had scattered a ship-load of piasters, and “still they were
