by his servants and his cattle.  Over the gateway were crosses and queer constellations of dots, more like Mithraic symbols than anything Christian, but Girgis was a Copt, though the chosen head of the Muslim village.  He rose as I came up, stepped out and salaamed, then took my hand and said I must go into his house before I saw the church and enter the hareem.  His old mother, who looked a hundred, and his pretty wife, were very friendly; but, as I had to leave Omar at the door, our talk soon came to an end, and Girgis took me out into the divan, without the sacred precincts of the hareem.  Of course we had pipes and coffee, and he pressed me to stay some days, to eat with him every day and to accept all his house contained.  I took the milk he offered, and asked him to visit me in the boat, saying I must return before sunset when it gets cold, as I was ill.  The house was a curious specimen of a wealthy man’s house—­I could not describe it if I tried, but I felt I was acting a passage of the Old Testament.  We went to the church, which outside looked like nine beehives in a box.  Inside, the nine domes resting on square pillars were very handsome.  Girgis was putting it into thorough repair at his own expense, and it will cost a good deal, I think, to repair and renew the fine old wood panelling of such minute and intricate workmanship.  The church is divided by three screens; one in front of the eastern three domes is impervious and conceals the holy of holies.  He opened the horseshoe door for me to look in, but explained that no Hareem might cross the threshold.  All was in confusion owing to the repairs which were actively going on without the slightest regard to Sunday; but he took up a large bundle, kissed it, and showed it me.  What it contained I cannot guess, and I scrupled to inquire through a Muslim interpreter.  To the right of this sanctum is the tomb of a Muslim saint! enclosed under the adjoining dome.  Here we went in and Girgis kissed the tomb on one side while Omar salaamed it on the other—­a pleasant sight.  They were much more particular about our shoes than in the mosques.  Omar wanted to tie handkerchiefs over my boots like at Cairo, but the priest objected and made me take them off and march about in the brick and mortar rubbish in my stockings.  I wished to hear the service, but it was not till sunset, and, as far as I could make out, not different on Sunday to other days.  The Hareems are behind the screen furthest removed from the holy screen, behind a third screen where also was the font, locked up and shaped like a Muslim tomb in little. (Hareem is used here just like the German Frauenzimmer, to mean a respectable woman.  Girgis spoke of me to Omar as ‘Hareem.’) The Copts have but one wife, but they shut her up much closer than the Arabs.  The children were sweetly pretty, so unlike the Arab brats, and the men very good-looking.  They did not seem to acknowledge me at all as a co-religionnaire, and asked whether we of the English religion did not marry our brothers and sisters.