I have been much amused lately by a new acquaintance, who, in romances of the last century, would be called an ‘Arabian sage.’  Sheykh Abdurrachman lives in a village half a day’s journey off, and came over to visit me and to doctor me according to the science of Galen and Avicenna.  Fancy a tall, thin, graceful man, with a grey beard and liquid eyes, absorbed in studies of the obsolete kind, a doctor of theology, law, medicine and astronomy.  We spent three days in arguing and questioning; I consented to swallow a potion or two which he made up before me, of very innocent materials.  My friend is neither a quack nor superstitious, and two hundred years ago would have been a better physician than most in Europe.  Indeed I would rather swallow his physic now than that of many a M.D.  I found him like all the learned theologians I have known, extremely liberal and tolerant.  You can conceive nothing more interesting and curious than the conversation of a man learned and intelligent, and utterly ignorant of all our modern Western science.  If I was pleased with him, he was enchanted with me, and swore by God that I was a Mufti indeed, and that a man could nowhere spend time so delightfully as in conversation with me.  He said he had been acquainted with two or three Englishmen who had pleased him much, but that if all Englishwomen were like me the power must necessarily be in our hands, for that my akl (brain, intellect) was far above that of the men he had known.  He objected to our medicine that it seemed to consist in palliatives, which he rather scorned, and aimed always at a radical cure.  I told him that if he had studied anatomy he would know that radical cures were difficult of performance, and he ended by lamenting his ignorance of English or some European language, and that he had not learned our Ilm (science) also.  Then we plunged into sympathies, mystic numbers, and the occult virtues of stones, etc., and I swallowed my mixture (consisting of liquorice, cummin and soda) just as the sun entered a particular house, and the moon was in some favourable aspect.  He praised to me his friend, a learned Jew of Cairo.  I could have fancied myself listening to Abu Suleyman of Cordova, in the days when we were the barbarians and the Arabs were the learned race.  There is something very winning in the gentle, dignified manners of all the men of learning I have seen here, and their homely dress and habits make it still more striking.  I longed to photograph my Sheykh as he sat on the divan pulling MSS. out of his bosom to read me the words of El-Hakeem Lokman, or to overwhelm me with the authority of some physician whose very name I had never heard.

The hand of the Government is awfully heavy upon us.  All this week the people have been working night and day cutting their unripe corn, because three hundred and ten men are to go to-morrow to work on the railroad below Siout.  This green corn is, of course, valueless to sell and unwholesome to eat; so the magnificent harvest of this year is turned to bitterness at the last moment.  From a neighbouring village all the men are gone, and seven more are wanted to make up the corvee.  The population of Luxor is 1,000 males of all ages, so you can guess how many strong men are left after three hundred and ten are taken.