heavens--framed always by the battlements of El-Azhar--are almost white
from the excess of light, with a border of tall, red minarets, which
seem to be aglow with the refection of some great fire. And, watching
them pass, all these young priests or jurists, at once so different
and so alike, we understand better than before how Islam, the old, old
Islam, keeps still its cohesion and its power.

The mosque in which they pursue their studies is now almost empty.
In its restful twilight there is silence, and the unexpected music of
little birds; it is the brooding season and the ceilings of carved wood
are full of nests, which nobody disturbs.

A world, this mosque, in which thousands of people could easily find
room. Some hundred and fifty marble columns, brought from ancient
temples, support the arches of the seven parallel aisles. There is
no light save that which comes through the arcade opening into the
courtyard, and it is so dark in the aisles at the far end that we wonder
again how the faithful can see to read when the sun of Egypt happens to
be veiled.

Some score of students, who seem almost lost in the vast solitude, still
remain during the hour of rest, and are busy sweeping the floor with
long palms made into a kind of broom. These are the poor students, whose
only meal is of dry bread, and who at night stretch themselves to sleep
on the same mat on which they have sat studying during the day.

The residence at the university is free to all the scholars, the cost of
their education and maintenance being provided by pious donations. But,
inasmuch as the bequests are restricted according to nationality, there
is necessarily inequality in the treatment doled out to the different