the arms and the hips, and in the eviscerated abdomen, contained the heart, spleen, the dried brain, the hair, and the cuttings of the beard and nails.  In those days the hair had a special magical virtue:  by burning it while uttering certain incantations, one might acquire an almost limitless power over the person to whom it had belonged.  The ernbalmers, therefore, took care to place with the mummy such portions of the hair as they had been obliged to cut off, so as to remove them out of the way of the perverse ingenuity of the sorcerers.

[Illustration:  009.jpg wrapping of the mummy, under the direction of the “Man of the roll”]

     Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from Rosellini.

Over the first covering of the mummy already alluded to, there was sometimes placed a strip of papyrus or a long piece of linen, upon which the scribe had transcribed selections—­both text and pictures—­from “The Book of the going forth by Day:”  in such cases the roll containing the whole work was placed between the legs.  The body was further wrapped in several bandages, then in a second piece of stuff, then in more bands, the whole being finally covered with a shroud of coarse canvas and a red linen winding-sheet, sewn together at the back, and kept in place by transverse bands disposed at intervals from head to foot.  The son of the deceased and a “man of the roll” were present at this lugubrious toilet, and recited at the application of each piece a prayer, in which its object was defined and its duration secured.  Every Egyptian was supposed to be acquainted with the formulas, from having learned them during his lifetime, by which he was to have restored to him the use of his limbs, and be protected from the dangers of the world beyond.  These were repeated to the dead person, however, for greater security, during the process of embalming, and the son of the deceased, or the master of the ceremonies, took care to whisper to the mummy the most mysterious parts, which no living ear might hear with impunity.  The wrappings having been completed, the deceased person became aware of his equipment, and enjoyed all the privileges of the “instructed and fortified Manes.”  He felt himself, both mummy and double, now ready for the tomb.

Egyptian funerals were not like those to which we are accustomed—­mute ceremonies, in which sorrow is barely expressed by a furtive tear:  noise, sobbings, and wild gestures were their necessary concomitants.  Not only was it customary to hire weeping women, who tore their hair, filled the air with their lamentations, and simulated by skilful actions the depths of despair, but the relatives and friends themselves did not shrink from making an outward show of their grief, nor from disturbing the equanimity of the passers-by by the immoderate expressions of their sorrow.  One after another they raised their voices, and uttered some expression appropriate to the occasion:  “To the West, the dwelling of Osiris, to the West, thou who wast the best of men, and who always hated guile.”  And the hired weepers answered in chorus:  “O chief,* as thou goest to the West, the gods themselves lament.”  The funeral cortege started in the morning from the house of mourning, and proceeded at a slow pace to the Nile, amid the clamours of the mourners.