sunset from the western bank of the Nile, or climb the mound beyond its
northern end, where stands the grand entrance, and you realize at once
its nobility and solemn splendor. From the _Loulia's_ deck it was a
procession of great columns; that was all. But the decorative effect of
these columns, soaring above the river and its vivid life, is fine.

By day all is turmoil on the river-bank. Barges are unloading, steamers
are arriving, and throngs of donkey-boys and dragomans go down in
haste to meet them. Servants run to and fro on errands from the many
dahabiyehs. Bathers leap into the brown waters. The native craft pass by
with their enormous sails outspread to catch the wind, bearing serried
mobs of men, and black-robed women, and laughing, singing children. The
boatmen of the hotels sing monotonously as they lounge in the big, white
boats waiting for travellers to Medinet-Abu, to the Ramesseum, to Kurna,
and the tombs. And just above them rise the long lines of columns,
ancient, tranquil, and remote--infinitely remote, for all their
nearness, casting down upon the sunlit gaiety the long shadow of the
past.

From the edge of the mound where stands the native village the effect
of the temple is much less decorative, but its detailed grandeur can be
better grasped from there; for from there one sees the great towers of
the propylon, two rows of mighty columns, the red granite Obelisk of
Rameses the great, and the black granite statues of the king. On the
right of the entrance a giant stands, on the left one is seated, and a
little farther away a third emerges from the ground, which reaches to
its mighty breast.

And there the children play perpetually. And there the Egyptians sing
their serenades, making the pipes wail and striking the derabukkeh; and