“We mustn’t stay here if you want to see my uncle’s gift, because this room closes at four to-day.”  With this admonition she moved on to the other end of the room, where she halted before a large floor-case containing a mummy and a large number of other objects.  A black label with white lettering set forth the various contents with a brief explanation as follows: 

“Mummy of Sebek-hotep, a scribe of the twenty-second dynasty, together with the objects found in the tomb.  These include the four Canopic jars, in which the internal organs were deposited, the Ushabti figures, tomb provisions and various articles that had belonged to the deceased; his favourite chair, his head-rest, his ink-palette, inscribed with his name and the name of the king, Osorkon I, in whose reign he lived, and other smaller articles.  Presented by John Bellingham, Esq.”

“They have put all the objects together in one case,” Miss Bellingham explained, “to show the contents of an ordinary tomb of the better class.  You see that the dead man was provided with all his ordinary comforts:  provisions, furniture, the ink-palette that he had been accustomed to use in writing on papyri, and a staff of servants to wait on him.”

“Where are the servants?” I asked.

“The little Ushabti figures,” she answered; “they were the attendants of the dead, you know, his servants in the under-world.  It was a quaint idea, wasn’t it?  But it was all very complete and consistent, and quite reasonable, too, if once one accepts the belief in the persistence of the individual apart from the body.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “and that is the only fair way to judge a religious system, by taking the main beliefs for granted.  But what a business it must have been, bringing all these things from Egypt to London.”

“It was worth the trouble, though, for it is a fine and instructive collection.  And the work is all very good of its kind.  You notice that the Ushabti figures and the heads that form the stoppers of the Canopic jars are quite finely modelled.  The mummy itself, too, is rather handsome, though that coat of bitumen on the back doesn’t improve it.  But Sebek-hotep must have been a fine-looking man.”

“The mask on the case is a portrait, I suppose?”

“Yes; in fact, it is rather more.  To some extent it is the actual face of the man himself.  This mummy is enclosed in what is called a cartonnage, that is a case moulded on the figure.  The cartonnage, was formed of a number of layers of linen or papyrus united by glue or cement, and when the case had been fitted to the mummy it was moulded to the body, so that the general form of the features and limbs was often apparent.  After the cement was dry the case was covered with a thin layer of stucco and the face modelled more completely, and then the decorations and inscriptions were painted on.  So that, you see, in a cartonnage, the body was sealed up like a nut in its shell, unlike the more ancient forms in which the mummy was merely rolled up and enclosed in a wooden coffin.”