I shall leave Luxor in five or six days—­and write now to stop all letters in Cairo.

I don’t know what to do with my sick; they come from forty miles off, and sometimes twenty or thirty people sleep outside the house.  I dined with the Maohn last night—­’pot luck’—­and was much pleased.  The dear old lady was so vexed not to have a better dinner for me that she sent me a splendid tray of baklaweh this morning to make up for it.

June 22, 1866:  Maurice Duff Gordon

To Maurice Duff Gordon.  CAIRO, June 22, 1866.

Maurice my Darling,

I send you a Roman coin which a man gave me as a fee for medical attendance.  I hope you will like it for your watch-chain.  I made our Coptic goldsmith bore a hole in it.  Why don’t you write to me, you young rascal?  I am now living in my boat, and I often wish for you here to donkey ride about with me.  I can’t write you a proper letter now as Omar is waiting to take this up to Mr. Palgrave with the drawings for your father.  Omar desires his best salaam to you and to Rainie, and is very much disappointed that you are not coming out in the winter to go up to Luxor.  We had a hurricane coming down the Nile, and a boat behind us sank.  We only lost an anchor, and had to wait and have it fished up by the fishermen of a neighbouring village.  In places the water was so shallow that the men had to push the boat over by main force, and all went into the river.  The captain and I shouted out, Islam el Islam, equivalent to, ‘Heave away, boys.’  There are splendid illuminations about to take place here, because the Pasha has got leave to make his youngest boy his successor, and people are ordered to rejoice, which they do with much grumbling—­it will cost something enormous.

July 10, 1866:  Mrs. Austin

To Mrs. Austin.  OFF BOULAK, CAIRO, July 10, 1866.

Dearest Mutter,

I am much better again.  My cold went off without a violent illness and I was only weak and nervous.  I am very comfortable here, anchored off Boulak, with my Reis and one sailor who cleans and washes my clothes which Omar irons, as at Luxor, as he found the washerwomen here charged five francs a dozen for all small things and more for dresses.  A bad hashash boy turned Achmet’s head, who ran away for two days and spent a dollar in riotous living; he returned penitent, and got no fatted calf, but dry bread and a confiscation of his new clothes.