and brought the army and priesthood to open rebellion by his predilection for the Greek nation, and for intercourse with foreigners generally, (always an abomination in the eyes of the Egyptians), men felt confident that Amasis would return to the old ways, would rigorously exclude foreigners from the country, dismiss the Greek mercenaries, and instead of taking counsel from the Greeks, would hearken only to the commands of the priesthood.  But in this, as you must see yourself, the prudent Egyptians had guessed wide of the mark in their choice of a ruler; they fell from Scylla into Charybdis.  If Hophra was called the Greeks’ friend, Amasis must be named our lover.  The Egyptians, especially the priests and the army, breathe fire and flame, and would fain strangle us one and all, off hand, This feeling on the part of the soldiery does not disturb Amasis, for he knows too well the comparative value of their and our services; but with the priests it is another and more serious matter, for two reasons:  first, they possess an unbounded influence over the people; and secondly.  Amasis himself retains more affection than he likes to acknowledge to us, for this absurd and insipid religion—­a religion which appears doubly sacred to its adherents simply because it has existed in this eccentric land—­unchanged for thousands of years.  These priests make the king’s life burdensome to him; they persecute and injure us in every possible way; and indeed, if it had not been for the king’s protection, I should long ago have been a dead man.  But I am wandering from my tale!  As I said before, Rhodopis was received at Naukratis with open arms by all, and loaded with marks of favor by Amasis, who formed her acquaintance.  Her daughter Kleis, as is the case with the little Sappho now—­was never allowed to appear in the society which assembled every evening at her mother’s house, and indeed was even more strictly brought up than the other young girls in Naukratis.  She married Glaucus, a rich Phocaean merchant of noble family, who had defended his native town with great bravery against the Persians, and with him departed to the newly-founded Massalia, on the Celtic coast.  There, however, the young couple both fell victims to the climate, and died, leaving a little daughter, Sappho.  Rhodopis at once undertook the long journey westward, brought the orphan child back to live with her, spent the utmost care on her education, and now that she is grown up, forbids her the society of men, still feeling the stains of her own youth so keenly that she would fain keep her granddaughter (and this in Sappho’s case is not difficult), at a greater distance from contact with our sex than is rendered necessary, by the customs of Egypt.  To my friend herself society is as indispensable as water to the fish or air to the bird.  Her house is frequented by all the strangers here, and whoever has once experienced her hospitality and has the time at command will never after be found absent when the flag announces an evening