the silicious sand of the Desert, an admirable succedaneum for
flint and steel. One consolation, however, remained to us: the
Dragoman, brand-new clothes and all, was left behind at Suez. His
last chef d'ouvre of blundering has already been
noticed[EN#84]--the barrel of Midianitish oysters sent to Admiral
M'Killop (Pasha) had been so carelessly headed up, and so
carefully turned topsy-turvy, that the result was, to use my
friend's words, they could be nosed from the half-way station.
The "Kyrios" had probably passed a Bacchanalian night with his
Hellenic friends, and he subsequently made act of presence at
Cairo with a very British-looking black eye. His accident at Suez
was a bit of "poetical justice," which almost convinced one of
the "moral government."

A succulent breakfast a la fourchette, in the charming garden of
our friend M. Vetter, of Zagazig, duly discussed, we again went
"on board," amusing the lookers-on by our naive enjoyment of the
Nile-valley: they had not been in Arabia, and they found the
"emerald-green" dusty and yellow. We reached Cairo at 5.30 p.m.
More troubles! Ten minutes after arrival we found ourselves in
possession, in sole charge of the gare. The train was loaded with
Government property, officers, soldiers and escort, mules, boxes
and bags of specimens whose collecting had cost money. Yet
station-master, agent, and employes at once went their ways,
declining even to show the room allotted to our goods, although a
telegram from the railway authorities had advised me that one had
been made ready. The assistant-agent, when at last hunted up,
declared, before vanishing once more, that the porters for whom
we applied were busy loading cotton, and that we must e'en do the
best we could for ourselves. So the waggons were shunted and