strangers from Chennu, Tuauf, whose essays were frequently used in the
schools,--[Some of them are still in existence]--"for while, on one hand,
it brings us into the neighborhood of the Pharaoh, where life, happiness,
and safety flourish, on the other it procures us the honor of counting
ourselves among your number; for, though the university of Chennu in
former times was so happy as to bring up many great men, whom she could
call her own, she can no longer compare with the House of Seti. Even
Heliopolis and Memphis are behind you; and if I, my humble self,
nevertheless venture boldly among you, it is because I ascribe your
success as much to the active influence of the Divinity in your temple,
which may promote my acquirements and achievements, as to your great
gifts and your industry, in which I will not be behind you. I have
already seen your high-priest Ameni--what a man! And who does not know
thy name, Gagabu, or thine, Meriapu?"

"And which of you," asked the other new-comer, may we greet as the author
of the most beautiful hymn to Amon, which was ever sung in the land of
the Sycamore? Which of you is Pentaur?"

"The empty chair yonder," answered Gagabu, pointing to a seat at the
lower end of the table, "is his. He is the youngest of us all, but a
great future awaits him."

"And his songs," added the elder of the strangers. "Without doubt,"
replied the chief of the haruspices,--[One of the orders of priests in
the Egyptian hierarchy]--an old man with a large grey curly head, that
seemed too heavy for his thin neck, which stretched forward--perhaps from
the habit of constantly watching for signs--while his prominent eyes
glowed with a fanatical gleam. "Without doubt the Gods have granted
great gifts to our young friend, but it remains to be proved how he will