at that mystic hour, when the skirts of retiring day have ceased to
flutter above the western hills, and the moon casts down her pale,
melancholy glances on the silent scene, and the stars--our guardian
angels, according to some--seem to stoop nearer and nearer to the earth
as slumber deepens, as if to press golden kisses upon the eyelids of
those whom they watch and love! In all countries these hours are
beautiful; but in Egypt--let those who doubt come and witness all that
we beheld, and which is indescribable, on the evening that we left the
neighbourhood of Silsilis on our way to Edfou--on that calm, placid
river, over which brooded a silence interrupted only by the alternate
songs of the crews of the two boats as they leisurely pulled with the
current.

It was late in the afternoon of next day when we reached the
landing-place; but we immediately set out to see the ruin, if ruin it
can be called, for it is almost in perfect preservation. After
traversing a broad extent of ground covered with rank grass and prickly
plants, we came to the customary palm-grove, and then entered what
romancers would probably call the 'good city' of Edfou. It is a
considerable collection of huts, principally constructed of mud,
clustering amidst mounds of rubbish at the base of the temple. The lofty
propylæa, above a hundred feet high, I believe, were of course seen from
afar off, both during our walk and in ascending and descending the
river. As is the case in nearly all other Egyptian buildings, the effect
at a distance is anything but picturesque. From want of objects of
comparison, the impression of great size is not produced; and nothing
can be meaner in outline than two towers like truncated pyramids,
pierced with small, square windows at irregular intervals. On a nearer
approach, however, the surface-ornament begins to appear; and the
central doorway, overhung by a rich and painted cornice, presents itself