on the Prophet,[FN#4] an introduction to the Call of Morning Prayer.  Smoking sundry pipes with tenderness, as if taking leave of a friend; and until the second gun, fired at about half-past two A.M., gives the Imsak,[FN#4]-the order to abstain from food,-I wait the Azan,[FN#5] which in this month is called somewhat earlier than usual.  Then, after a ceremony termed the Niyat[FN#6] (purpose) of fasting, I say my

[p.77]prayers, and prepare for repose.[FN#7] At 7 A.M. the labours of the day begin for the working classes of society; the rich spend the night in revelling, and rest in down from dawn till noon.

The first thing on rising is to perform the Wuzu, or lesser ablution, which invariably follows sleep in a reclining position; without this it would be improper to pray, to enter the Mosques, to approach a religious man, or to touch the Koran.  A few pauper patients usually visit me at this hour, report the phenomena of their complaints,-which they do, by the bye, with unpleasant minuteness of detail,-and receive fresh instructions.  At 9 A.M.  Shaykh Mohammed enters, with “lecture” written upon his wrinkled brow; or I pick him up on the way, and proceed straight to the Mosque Al-Azhar.  After three hours’ hard reading, with little interruption from bystanders-this is long vacation, most of the students being at home-comes the call to mid-day prayer.  The founder of Al-Islam ordained but few devotions for the morning, which is the business part of the Eastern day; but during the afternoon and evening they succeed one another rapidly, and their length increases.  It is then time to visit my rich patients, and afterwards, by way of accustoming myself to the sun, to wander among the bookshops for an hour or two, or simply to idle in the street.  At 3 P.M.  I return home, recite the afternoon prayers, and re-apply myself to study.

This is the worst part of the day.  In Egypt the summer nights and mornings are, generally speaking,

[p.78]pleasant, but the forenoons are sultry, and the afternoons are serious.  A wind wafting the fine dust and furnace-heat of the desert blows over the city; the ground returns with interest the showers of caloric from above, and not a cloud or a vapour breaks the dreary expanse of splendour on high.  There being no such comforts as Indian tatties, and few but the wealthiest houses boasting glass windows, the interior of your room is somewhat more fiery than the street.  Weakened with fasting, the body feels the heat trebly, and the disordered stomach almost affects the brain.  Every minute is counted with morbid fixity of idea as it passes on towards the blessed sunset, especially by those whose terrible lot is manual labour at such a season.  A few try to forget their afternoon miseries in slumber, but most people take the Kaylulah, or Siesta, shortly after the meridian, holding it unwholesome to sleep late in the day.

As the Maghrib, the sunset hour, approaches-and how slowly it comes!-the town seems to recover from a trance.  People flock to the windows and balconies, in order to watch the moment of their release.  Some pray, others tell their beads; while others, gathering together in groups or paying visits, exert themselves to while away the lagging time.