All the splendour of the Arabian Nights is realized in the Court of
Egypt. The guard of Nubian eunuchs with their black glossy countenances,
clothed in scarlet and gold, waving their glittering Damascus sabres,
and gently bounding on their snow-white steeds, is, perhaps, the most
picturesque corps in the world. The numerous Harem, the crowds of civil
functionaries and military and naval officers in their embroidered Nizam
uniforms, the vast number of pages and pipe-bearers, and other inferior
but richly attired attendants, the splendid military music, for which
Mehemet Ali has an absolute passion, the beautiful Arabian horses and
high-bred dromedaries, altogether form a blending of splendour and
luxury which easily recall the golden days of Bagdad and its romantic
Caliph.

Yet this Court is never seen to greater advantage than in the delicious
summer palace in the gardens of Shubra. During the festival of the
Bairam, the Pasha generally holds his state in this enchanted spot, nor
is it easy to forget that strange and brilliant scene. The
banqueting-rooms were all open and illuminated, the colonnade full of
guests in gorgeous groups, some standing and conversing, some seated on
small Persian carpets smoking pipes beyond all price, and some young
grandees lounging in their crimson shawls and scarlet vests over the
white balustrade, and flinging their glowing shadow over the moonlit
water: from every quarter bursts of melody, and each moment the river
breeze brought gusts of perfume on its odorous wings.

_New Monthly Magazine_.

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