Tuesday, May 17.—­Yesterday the Simoom was awful, and last night I slept on the terrace, and was very hot.  To-day the north wind sprang up at noon and revived us, though it is still 102 degrees in my divan.  My old ‘great-grandfather’ has come in for a pipe and coffee; he was Belzoni’s guide, and his eldest child was born seven days before the French under Bonaparte marched into Luxor.  He is superbly handsome and erect, and very talkative, but only remembers old times, and takes me for Mme. Belzoni.  He is grandfather to Mahommed, the guard of this house, and great-grandfather to my little Achmet.  His grandsons have married him to a tidy old woman to take care of him; he calls me ’My lady grand-daughter,’ and Omar he calls ‘Mustapha,’ and we salute him as ‘grandfather.’  I wish I could paint him; he is so grand to look at.  Old Mustapha had a son born yesterday—­his tenth child.  I must go and wish him joy, after which I will go to Arthur’s boat and have a bathe; the sailors rig me out a capital awning.  We had a good boat, and a capital crew; one man Mahommed, called Alatee (the singer), sang beautifully, to my great delight, and all were excellent fellows, quiet and obliging; only his servant was a lazy beast, dirty and conceited—­a Copt, spoiled by an Italian education and Greek associates, thinking himself very grand because he was a Christian.  I wondered at the patience and good-nature with which Omar did all his work and endured all his insolence.  There was one stupendous row at Assouan, however.  The men had rigged out a sort of tent for me to bathe in over the side of the boat, and Ramadan caught the Copt trying to peep in, and half strangled him.  Omar called him ‘dog,’ and asked him if he was an infidel, and Macarius told him I was a Christian woman, and not his Hareem.  Omar lost his temper, and appealed to the old reis and all the sailors, ’O Muslims, ought not I to cut his throat if he had defiled the noble person of the lady with his pig’s eyes?  God forgive me for mentioning her in such a manner.’  Then they all cursed him for a pig and an infidel, and threatened to put him ashore and leave him for his vile conduct towards noble Hareem.  Omar sobbed with passion, saying that I was to him like the ’back of his mother,’ and how ‘dare Macarius take my name in his dirty mouth,’ etc.  The Copt tried to complain of being beaten afterwards, but I signified to him that he had better hold his tongue, for that I understood Arabic, upon which he sneaked off.

May 23, 1864:  Mrs. Austin

To Mrs. Austin.  LUXOR, Monday, May 23, 1864.

Dearest Mutter,