Saturday.—­This will go to-morrow by some travellers, the last winter swallows.  We went together yesterday to the Tombs of the Kings on the opposite bank.  The mountains were red-hot, and the sun went down into Amenti all on fire.  We met Mr. Dummichen, the German, who is living in the temple of Dayr el-Bahree, translating inscriptions, and went down Belzoni’s tomb.  Mr. Dummichen translated a great many things for us which were very curious, and I think I was more struck with the beauty of the drawing of the figures than last year.  The face of the Goddess of the Western shore, Amenti, Athor, or Hecate, is ravishing as she welcomes the King to her regions; death was never painted so lovely.  The road is a long and most wild one—­truly through the valley of the shadow of death—­not an insect nor a bird.  Our moonlight ride home was beyond belief beautiful.  The Arabs who followed us were immensely amused at hearing me interpret between German and English, and at my speaking Arabic; they asked if I was dragoman of all the languages in the world.  One of them had droll theories about ‘Amellica’ (America), as they pronounce it always.  Was the King very powerful that the country was called ‘Al Melekeh’ (the Kings)?  I said, ’No:  all are Kings there:  you would be a King like the rest.’  My friend disapproved utterly:  ’If all are Kings they must all be taking away every man the other’s money’—­a delightful idea of the kingly vocation.

When we landed on the opposite shore, I told little Achmet to go back in the ferry-boat, in which he had brought me over my donkey; a quarter of an hour after I saw him by my side.  The guide asked why he had not gone as I told him.  ‘Who would take care of the lady?’ the monkey is Rainie’s size.  Of course he got tired, and on the way home I told him to jump up behind me en croupe after the Fellah fashion.  I thought the Arabs would never have done laughing and saying Wallah and Mashallah.  Sheykh Yussuf talked about the excavations, and is shocked at the way the mummies are kicked about.  One boy told him they were not Muslims as an excuse, and he rebuked him severely, and told him it was haraam (accursed) to do so to the children of Adam.  He says they have learned it very much of Mariette Bey, but I suspect it was always so with the fellaheen.  To-day a tremendous wind is blowing; excellent for the corn.  At Mustapha’s farm they are preparing for the harvest, baking bread and selecting a young bull to be killed for the reapers.  It is not hot to-day; only 84 degrees in a cool room.  The dust is horrid with this high wind; everything is gritty, and it obscures the sun.  I am desired to eat a raw onion every day during the Khamseen for health and prosperity.  This too must be a remnant of ancient Egypt.  How I do long to see you and the children.  Sometimes I feel rather down-hearted, but it is no good to say all that.  And I am much better and stronger.  I stood a long ride and some scrambling quite well last evening.