he has not yet learnt so to regard himself.  I here name him thief, for officially that is his designation; but there is no sting in the word, nor is any insult intended.  By all cultured persons the robbery of antiquities must be regarded as a grave offence, and one which has to be checked.  But the point is ethical; and what has the Theban to do with ethics?  The robbery of antiquities is carried out in many different ways and from many different motives.  Sometimes it is romantic treasure hunting that the official has to deal with; sometimes it is adventurous robbery with violence; sometimes it is the taking advantage of chance discoveries; sometimes it is the pilfering of objects found in authorised excavations; and sometimes it is the stealing of fragments smashed from the walls of the ancient monuments.  All these forms of robbery, except the last, may call for the sympathy of every reader of these lines who happens not to have cultivated that vaguely defined “archaeological sense” which is, practically, the product of this present generation alone; and in the instances which are here to be given the point of view of the “Theban thief” will be readily appreciated.

[Illustration:  PL.  XXIII.  A modern Theban Fellah-woman and her child.]

[Photo by E. Bird.

Treasure hunting is a relic of childhood that remains, like all other forms of romance and adventure, a permanently youthful feature in our worn old hearts.  It has been drilled into us by the tales of our boyhood, and, in later life, it has become part of that universal desire to get something for nothing which lies behind our most honest efforts to obtain the goods of this world.  Who has not desired the hidden wealth of the late Captain Kidd, or coveted the lost treasure of the Incas?  I recently wrote an article which was entitled “Excavations in Egypt,” but the editor of the magazine in which it appeared hastily altered these words to “Treasure Hunting in Egypt,” and thereby commanded the attention of twice the number of readers.  Can we wonder, then, that this form of adventure is so often met with in Egypt, the land of hidden treasure?  The Department of Antiquities has lately published a collection of mediaeval traditions with regard to this subject, which is known as the Book of the Pearl.  In it one is told the exact places where excavations should be made to lay bare the wealth of the ancients.  “Go to such and such a spot,” says this curious book, “and dig to the depth of so many cubits, and you will find a trap-door; descend through this and you will find a chamber wherein are forty jars filled with gold.  Take what you want, and give thanks to God.”  Many of the sites referred to have been literally hacked out of all recognition by the picks and spades of thousands of gold-seekers; and it may be that sometimes their efforts have been rewarded, since a certain amount of genuine information is embodied in the traditions.  Sir Gaston Maspero,