Happy as I was in the prospect of seeing you all and miserable as poor Upper Egypt has become, I could not leave without a pang.  Our Bairam was not gay.  There was horse riding for Sheykh Gibreel (the cousin of Abu’l Haggag) and the scene was prettier than ever I saw.  My old friend Yunis the Shereef insisted on showing me that at eighty-five he could still handle a horse and throw a Gereed ‘for Sheykh Gibreel and the Lady’ as he said.  Then arrived the Mufettish of Zenia with his gay attendants and filled the little square in front of the Cadi’s castellated house where we were sitting.  The young Sheykh of Salamieh rode beautifully and there was some excellent Neboot play (sort of very severe quarterstaff peculiar to the Fellaheen).

Next day was the great dinner given by Mohammed and Mustapha outside Mohammed’s house opposite Sheykh Gibreel’s tomb—­200 men ate at his gate.  I went to see it and was of course asked to eat.  ’Can one like thee eat the Melocheea of the Fellaheen?’ So I joined a party of five round a little wooden tray, tucked up my sleeve and ate—­dipping the bread into the Melocheea which is like very sloppy spinach but much nicer.  Then came the master and his servants to deal the pieces of meat out of a great basket—­sodden meat—­and like Benjamin my piece was the largest, so I tore off a bit and handed it to each of my companions, who said ’God take thee safe and happy to thy place and thy children and bring thee back to us in safety to eat the meat of the festival together once more.’

The moon rose clear and bright behind the one tall palm tree that overhangs the tomb of Sheykh Gibreel.  He is a saint of homely tastes and will not have a dome over him or a cover for his tomb, which is only surrounded by a wall breast-high, enclosing a small square bit of ground with the rough tomb on one side.  At each corner was set up a flag, and a few dim lanterns hung overhead.  The 200 men eating were quite noiseless—­and as they rose, one by one washed their hands and went, the crowd melted away like a vision.  But before all were gone, came the Bulook, or sub-magistrate—­a Turkish Jack in office with the manners of a Zouave turned parish beadle.  He began to sneer at the melocheea of the fellaheen and swore he could not eat it if he sat before it 1,000 years.  Hereupon, Omar began to ‘chaff’ him.  ’Eat, oh Bulook Pasha and if it swells thy belly the Lady will give thee of the physick of the English to clean thy stomach upwards and downwards of all thou hast eaten of the food of the fellaheen.’  The Bulook is notorious for his exactions—­his ’eating the people’—­so there was a great laugh.  Poor Omar was very ill next day—­and every one thought the Bulook had given him the eye.

Then came the Mufettish in state to pay his devoirs to the Sheykh in the tomb.  He came and talked to Mustapha and Yussuf and enumerated the people taken for the works, 200 from Luxor, 400 from Carnac, 310 from Zenia, 320 from Byadyeh, and 380 from Salamieh—­a good deal more than half the adult men to go for sixty days leaving their fields uncultivated and their Hareem and children hungry—­for they have to take all the food for themselves.