Some of the feminine garments worn in ancient Egypt were exceedingly gaudy, and they made up in colour all that they lacked in variety of design.  In the Middle and New Empires the robes of the men were as many-hued as their wall decorations, and as rich in composition.  One may take as a typical example the costume of a certain priest who lived at the end of Dynasty XVIII.  An elaborate wig covers his head; a richly ornamented necklace surrounds his neck; the upper part of his body is clothed in a tunic of gauze-like linen; as a skirt there is swathed around him the most delicately coloured fine linen, one end of which is brought up and thrown gracefully over his arm; decorated sandals cover his feet and curl up over his toes; and in his hand he carries a jewelled wand surmounted by feathers.  It would be an absurdity to state that these folds of fine linen hid a heart set on things higher than this world and its vanities.  Nor do the objects of daily use found in the tombs suggest any austerity in the Egyptian character.  There is no reflection of the Underworld to be looked for in the ornamental bronze mirrors, nor smell of death in the frail perfume pots.  Religious abstraction is not to be sought in lotus-formed drinking-cups, and mortification of the body is certainly not practised on golden chairs and soft cushions.  These were the objects buried in the tombs of the priests and religious teachers.

The puritanical tendency of a race can generally be discovered by a study of the personal names of the people.  The names by which the Egyptians called their children are as gay as they are pretty, and lack entirely the Puritan character.  “Eyes-of-love,” “My-lady-is-as-gold,” “Cool-breeze,” “Gold-and-lapis-lazuli,” “Beautiful-morning,” are Egyptian names very far removed from “Through-tria
ls-and-tribulations-we-enter-into-the-Kingdom-of-Heaven Jones,” which is the actual name of a now living scion of a Roundhead family.  And the well-known “Praise-God Barebones” has little to do with the Egyptian “Beautiful-Kitten,” “Little-Wild-Lion,” “I-have-wanted-you,” “Sweetheart,” and so on.

The nature of the folk-tales is equally indicative of the temperament of a nation.  The stories which have come down to us from ancient Egypt are often as frivolous as they are quaint.  Nothing delighted the Egyptians more than the listening to a tale told by an expert story-teller; and it is to be supposed that such persons were in as much demand in the old days as they are now.  One may still read of the adventures of the Prince who was fated to die by a dog, a snake, or a crocodile; of the magician who made the waters of the lake heap themselves up that he might descend to the bottom dry-shod to recover a lady’s jewel; of the fat old wizard who could cut a man’s head off and join it again to his body; of the fairy godmothers who made presents to a new-born babe; of the shipwrecked sailor who was thrown up on an island inhabited by serpents with