The Feast of the Valley was a feast of the dead; but it was not a
melancholy solemnity, observed with lamentation and wailing; on the
contrary, it was a cheerful festival, devoted to pious and sentimental
memories of those whom we cease not to love after death, whom we esteem
happy and blest, and of whom we think with affection; to whom too the
throng from Thebes brought offerings, forming groups in the chapel-like
tombs, or in front of the graves, to eat and drink.

Father, mother and children clung together; the house-slaves followed
with provisions, and with torches, which would light up the darkness of
the tomb and show the way home at night.

Even the poorest had taken care to secure beforehand a place in one of
the large boats which conveyed the people across the stream; the barges
of the rich, dressed in the gayest colors, awaited their owners with
their households, and the children had dreamed all night of the sacred
bark of Anion, whose splendor, as their mothers told them, was hardly
less than that of the golden boat in which the Sun-God and his companions
make their daily voyage across the ocean of heaven. The broad landing
place of the temple of Anion was already crowded with priests, the shore
with citizens, and the river with boats; already loud music drowned the
din of the crowds, who thronged and pushed, enveloped in clouds of dust,
to reach the boats; the houses and hovels of Thebes were all empty, and
the advent of the God through the temple-gates was eagerly expected; but
still the members of the royal family had not appeared, who were wont on
this solemn day to go on foot to the great temple of Anion; and, in the
crowd, many a one asked his neighbor why Bent-Anat, the fair daughter of
Rameses, lingered so long, and delayed the starting of the procession.