furlongs, and furlongs into miles, and at last the shrunk stream is
content with a narrow channel a few hundred yards in width, and leaves
the rest of its bed to the embraces of sun and air, and, if he so wills,
to the industry of man. The land thus left exposed is Egypt--Egypt is
the temporarily uncovered bed of the Nile, which it reclaims and
recovers during a portion of each year, when Egypt disappears from view,
save where human labour has by mounds and embankments formed artificial
islands that raise their heads above the waste of waters, for the most
part crowned with buildings.

There is one exception to this broad and sweeping statement. The Fayoum
is no part of the natural bed of the Nile, and has not been scooped out
by its energy. It is a natural depression in the western desert,
separated off from the Nile valley by a range of limestone hills from
two hundred to five hundred feet in height, and, apart from the activity
of man, would have been arid, treeless, and waterless. Still, it derives
from the Nile all its value, all its richness, all its fertility. Human
energy at some remote period introduced into the depressed tract through
an artificial channel from the Nile, cut in some places through the
rock, the life-giving fluid; and this fluid, bearing the precious Nile
sediment, has sufficed to spread fertility over the entire region, and
to make the desert blossom like a garden.

The Egyptians were not unaware of the source of their blessings. From a
remote date they speculated on their mysterious river. They deified it
under the name of Hapi, "the Hidden," they declared that "his abode was
not known;" that he was an inscrutable god, that none could tell his
origin: they acknowledged him as the giver of all good things, and
especially of the fruits of the earth. They said--