if by the contact of a thought that comes from the abysm of the ages.

We pass on rapidly, however, and somewhat inattentively, for our
business here to-night is not with these simulacra on the ground floor,
but with the more redoubtable hosts above. Besides our lantern sheds so
little light in these great halls that all these people of granite and
sandstone and marble appear only at the precise moment of our passage,
appear only to disappear, and, spreading their fantastic shadows on the
walls, mingle the next moment with the great mute crowd, that grows ever
more numerous behind us.

Placed at intervals are apparatus for use in case of fire, coils of hose
and standpipes that shine with the warm glow of burnished copper, and I
ask my companion of the watch: "What is there that could burn here? Are
not these good people all of stone?" And he answers: "Not here indeed;
but consider how the things that are above would blaze." Ah! yes.
The "things that are above"--which are indeed the object of my visit
to-night. I had no thought of fire catching hold in an assembly of
mummies; of the old withered flesh, the dead, dry hair, the venerable
carcasses of kings and queens, soaked as they are in natron and oils,
crackling like so many boxes of matches. It is chiefly on account of
this danger indeed that the seals are put upon the doors at nightfall,
and that it needs a special favour to be allowed to penetrate into this
place at night with a lantern.

In the daytime this "Museum of Egyptian Antiquities" is as vulgar a
thing as you can conceive, filled though it is with priceless treasures.
It is the most pompous, the most outrageous of those buildings, of no
style at all, by which each year the New Cairo is enriched; open to all
who care to gaze at close quarters, in a light that is almost brutal,