Luxor, reproduce and try to make eternal. . . .

[*] This movement is explained by the action of the sun,
which, falling on the unclothed arm, is supposed to have
expanded the bone of the elbow.

In the next coffin lies his father, Seti I., who reigned for a much
shorter period, and died much younger than he. This youthfulness is
apparent still in the features of the mummy, which are impressed besides
with a persistent beauty. Indeed this good King Seti looks the picture
of calm and serene reverie. There is nothing shocking in his dead
face, with its long closed eyes, its delicate lips, its noble chin
and unblemished profile. It is soothing and pleasant even to see him
sleeping there with his hands crossed upon his breast. And it seems
strange, that he, who looks so young, should have for son the old man,
almost a centenarian, who lies beside him.

In our passage we have gazed on many other royal mummies, some tranquil
and some grimacing. But, to finish, there is one of them (the third
coffin there, in the row in front of us), a certain Queen Nsitanebashru,
whom I approach with fear, albeit it is mainly on her account that I
have ventured to make this fantastical round. Even in the daytime she
attains to the maximum of horror that a spectral figure can evoke. What
will she be like to-night in the uncertain light of our little lantern?

There she is indeed, the dishevelled vampire in her place right enough,
stretched at full length, but looking always as if she were about to
leap up; and straightway I meet the sidelong glance of her enamelled
pupils, shining out of half-closed eyelids, with lashes that are still
almost perfect. Oh! the terrifying person! Not that she is ugly, on the