It is possible that when all the stores of coal and other fuel which form the source of the mechanical power and commercial greatness of northern and western nations shall have been exhausted, a method of directly utilising solar radiation may be discovered.  And if so, then the seat of empire will be transferred to parts of the earth that are now burnt up by the intense heat of the sun, but which then will be the most valuable of all possessions.  The vast solar radiance now wasted on the furnace-like shores of the Red Sea will be stored up as a source of mechanical power.  The commerce of the West will once more return to the East where it began; and the whole region will be repeopled with the life that swarmed there in the best days of old Egypt.  But under that new civilisation there will be no return of the old religion of the obelisks; for men will no longer worship the sun as a god, but will use him for the common purposes of life, as a slave.

After having thus passed in review so many noble obelisks, a mere tithe of what once existed, the conviction is deepened in our minds that no nation had ever devoted so much time, treasure, and skill to the service of religion as the Egyptian.  While the Jews had only one tabernacle and one temple, every city in Egypt—­and no country had so many great cities—­had its magnificent temple and its hosts of obelisks.  The spoils of the whole world were devoted to their construction; a third of the produce of the whole land of Egypt was spent in their maintenance.  The daily life of the people was moulded entirely upon the religion of these temples and obelisks; their art and their literature were inspired by it.  It organised their society; it built up their empire; and it was the salt which for more than three thousand years conserved a civilisation which has been the marvel and the mystery of every succeeding age.  Surely the Light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world, shone on those who were thus fervently stretching the tendrils of their souls to its dawning in the East, who raised these obelisks as symbols of the glorious and beneficent sunlight of the world.

CHAPTER VII

THE PAINTED TOMB AT VEII

Rome after a season becomes oppressive.  Your capacity of enjoyment is exhausted.  The atmosphere of excitement in which you live, owing to the number, variety, and transcendent interest of the sights that have to be seen, wears out the nervous system, and you have an ardent desire for a little respite and change of scene.  I remember that after the first month I had a deep longing to get away into the heart of an old wood, or into a lonely glen among the mountains, where I should see no trace of man’s handiwork, and recover the tone of my spirit amid the wildness of nature.  For this inevitable reaction of sight-seeing in the city, a remedy may be found by retiring for a day or two to some one or other of the numerous