volume-3_1894-1895.xml

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                <title>A Journal on the Bedawin 1889-1912</title>
                <author>
                    <persName ref="#Andrews_Emma_B">Mrs Emma B. Andrews</persName>
                </author>
                <editor>
                    <persName ref="#SLK">Dr. Sarah L. Ketchley</persName>
                </editor>
                <respStmt>
                    <resp>EBA Interns</resp>
                    <persName ref="#CS">Clare Summa</persName>
                    <persName ref="#KV">Karena Vongampai</persName>
                    <persName ref="#AL">Amanda Li</persName>
                    <persName ref="#NS">Nitya Sampath</persName>
                </respStmt>
            </titleStmt>
            <publicationStmt>
                <publisher>The Emma B. Andrews Diary Project</publisher>
                <address>
                    <addrLine>University of Washington, Seattle WA 98195 U.S.A.</addrLine>
                </address>
                <availability>
                    <licence target="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/">This work is
                        licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0
                        International License."></licence>
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                <date when="2018"> 2011-2018 </date>
                <distributor>The Emma B. Andrews Diary Project</distributor>
            </publicationStmt>
            <notesStmt>
                <note>Volume 3 1894-1895</note>
            </notesStmt>
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                <bibl>
                    <title>A Journal on the Bedawin 1889-1912</title>
                    <author>
                        <persName ref="#Andrews_Emma_B">Mrs. Emma B. Andrews</persName>
                    </author>
                    <orgName ref="#APS">The American Philsophical Society</orgName>
                    <address>
                        <addrLine>105 South Fifth Street Philadelphia, PA 19106</addrLine>
                    </address>
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                <p>
                    <persName ref="#Andrews_Emma_B">Emma B. Andrews</persName> is best remembered
                    for her association with the millionaire lawyer turned archaeologist/art and
                    antiquities collector, <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore M.
                        Davis</persName>. Traveling to <placeName ref="#Egypt">Egypt</placeName>
                    with him between 1889 and 1912, she kept detailed journals of these voyages
                    along the <name type="river" ref="#Nile">Nile</name>, including his important
                    yet under-reported excavations of 20 significant tombs in the <placeName
                        ref="#Valley_of_the_Kings">Valley of the Kings</placeName>. <persName
                        ref="#Andrews_Emma_B">Emma</persName> provides a vital commentary on the
                    archaeology and pioneering Egyptologists of the time. She paints a revealing
                    picture of the lives of the colonial gentry and the cultural and scientific
                    literati in <placeName ref="#Egypt">Egypt</placeName> at the dawn of the
                    twentieth century. To date, her diaries are unpublished; analysis of the
                    contents of 19 volumes will afford scholars and a general audience information
                    about an important historical resource for the first time. Since its inception
                    in 2010, the scope of our project has broadened to include the transcription and
                    digitization of a wide range of primary historical material from the 'Golden
                    Age' of Egyptian archaeology detailed in the Research section of this website.
                    The Emma B. Andrews Diary Project is one of the founding partners of Newbook
                    Digital Texts. We are proud to offer undergraduate and graduate Digital
                    Humanities education and internships.</p>
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                        <persName ref="#SLK">Dr. Sarah L. Ketchley</persName>
                        <affiliation>University of Washington</affiliation>
                        <occupation>Affiliate Instructor</occupation>
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                                <p>Project Director 2010-present</p>
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                        <persName ref="#CS">Clare Summa</persName>
                        <affiliation>University of Washington</affiliation>
                        <occupation>Student Intern</occupation>
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                                <p>Team member 2015-2016</p>
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            <pb n="1"/>
            <div xml:id="EBA18941119" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Gibraltar. Nov. 19th. 1894. Monday. </title></p>
                <p>We arrived this morning – dropping our anchor about 12 o’-clock – having sailed
                    from <placeName ref="#New_York">New York</placeName> on the <name type="boat"
                        >Fulda</name> at 3 o’clock on the afternoon of the 10th. For the first time
                    on the Atlantic I was really ill – and for two days kept to my berth and room –
                    the voyage seemed endless. We had pleasant weather, but a tremendous following
                    sea – but the <name type="boat">Fulda</name> proved a very steady sea boat – she
                    was clean – the service at table very poor – and on the last morning as I looked
                    at my berth, I felt, whatever life might have before me, thankful that there was
                    not another night there. The steamer was uncomfortably crowded, with the most
                    unobjectionable lot of passengers I had ever seen. At our little table we had
                    some pleasant Westchester Co. people with whom we made friends. After two or
                    three days out, we discovered the 2d class deck, which was big and unencumbered,
                    except with 3 of the most amusing parrots it has ever been my good fortune to
                    meet. There were no second class passengers – so we had our chairs carried down
                    there, and lived there the rest of the voyage, quite to ourselves. We came to
                    the Hotel Royal where we stayed with <persName ref="#Wilson_Charlie"
                        >Charlie</persName> and <persName ref="#Wilson_Eleanor">Nellie
                        Wilson</persName> seven years ago – and are fairly comfortable. We start
                    tomorrow on a pilgrimage to <placeName ref="#Madrid">Madrid</placeName>, to see
                    its great pictures – and <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> has
                    asked a young man, a fellow passenger, whom he has talked to a good deal and
                    become interested in, to go with us. We drove out to see some races this
                    afternoon, as we will have one or two days here on our way back, to show
                        <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> the island.</p>
            </div>

            <pb n="2"/>
            <div xml:id="EBA18941126" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Madrid. Spain. Nov. 26.</title></p>
                <p> We left <placeName ref="#Gibraltar">Gibraltar</placeName> on the morning of the
                    20th at 8 o’clock – going by boat for half and hour to the Spanish frontier –
                    where we were rather roughly handled in the Custom House. <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> lost a lot of cigarettes – and the
                    only thing that saved his boxes of favorite cigars was the word Spain branded on
                    the boxes. They dove to the bottom of my trunk and hauled out my case of
                    homeopathic medicines – and had a solemn pow-wow over it. Then they seized my
                    camera that <persName ref="#Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> was carrying –
                    insisted on having the case opened, and were too much afraid of taking out the
                    camera themselves. I took it out – took off the cap and pointed the thing at
                    them – to their manifest alarm – for they hurriedly motioned to put it back
                    safely in its case. Then they fell upon a stout little basket I was carrying,
                    filled with my various bottles – drew all of them out, and came upon a big
                    bottle of glycerine which they turned over and over, and as it looked like
                    something good to drink, I was in hopes they would try it. I would gladly have
                    sacrificed a cherished bottle of glycerine for the pleasure of seeing them
                    choking over it. The English have recently built a fine railway from <placeName
                        ref="#Gibraltar">Gibraltar</placeName> to <placeName ref="#Cordova"
                        >Cordova</placeName> connecting with the other Spanish lines – thus
                    releasing <placeName ref="#Gibraltar">Gibraltar</placeName> from her isolated
                    position. We had a comfortable ride to <placeName ref="#Cordova"
                        >Cordova</placeName> – through generally dreary, vast, waste country, except
                    for the olive orchards. We were almost an hour late, and our train from
                        <placeName ref="#Seville">Seville</placeName>, in the wagon lit of which we
                    had 2 compartments engaged, was already in. However we had more than 15 minutes,
                    so our luggage was scuttled into the booking office, where to our consternation
                        <pb n="3"/> we were told that they never booked luggage so late. Nothing
                    would move them, and we stood staring indignantly at our train, until it moved
                    off for <placeName ref="#Madrid"> Madrid </placeName>. We said some bad words
                    and commented satirically on the method of running railways in <country
                        ref="#Spain">Spain </country>, where passengers seem to be incidental
                    factors – but the officials’ feelings did not seem to be wounded, so, making the
                    best of the business, we drove to the Hotel where we stayed day 7 years ago –
                    and the next morning walked to the Mosque or Cathedral, and then afterwards to
                    the little plaza near for a view of the bridge across the <geogName
                        ref="#Guadalquivir">Guadalquiver</geogName>, the foundations of which are
                    Roman and the rest Moorish. A promising era seems to have set in for the Mosque
                    – for many of the built up arches are being restored – the stuff added in later
                    and Christian times carted away, and the beautiful Moorish arches, ornaments and
                    paintings opened up once more. But I am afraid that the Cathedral itself, which
                    so obstructs and ruins the wonderful perspective effect of the arches, and all
                    the tawdry altars which intrude themselves everywhere will never be done away
                    with. One exquisitely beautiful portion, called the place of the Kalefs has been
                    entirely opened up since we were here last – and the decorations and colour are
                    quite perfect, and the tiles quite marvelous. We left at 2:30 in the afternoon
                    for <placeName ref="#Madrid">Madrid</placeName> – <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName>, <persName ref="Buttles_Jeanette"
                        >Nettie</persName> and I having what is called a Berlina, where were 3 beds
                    on reclining chairs – while <persName ref="#Palsley_Mr">Mr. Palsley</persName>
                    and <persName ref="Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> were in another. We were
                    fairly comfortable – though the ancient smell that pervaded the cavities from
                    which our coffin-like beds were pulled rather weighed upon my senses. At last,
                    sleeping very soundly, I was awakened by <pb n="4"/> a rush of cold air, and saw
                        <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and <persName
                        ref="Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> sitting up staring at some porters
                    who were jabbering Spanish to us, and we at last perceived that we had arrived
                    at <placeName ref="#Madrid">Madrid</placeName>, so we scuttled into our things
                    as best we could – and in the cold light of early dawn drove to our hotel, I
                    with boots unbuttoned and no gloves, and our pockets stuffed with soap dishes,
                    tooth brushes etc. After having made our toilets and eaten a hot breakfast, we
                    took ourselves off to the Museo – incomparable as I knew it to be, I never
                    before realized how much so. Aside from the wonderful <persName
                        ref="#Velasquez_Diego">Velasquezs</persName> there are adorable <persName
                        ref="#Raphael">Raphael’s</persName> and the most perfect <persName
                        ref="#Titian">Titians</persName> I have ever seen. His equestrian portrait
                    of <persName ref="#Charles_V">Charles V</persName> and the standing portrait –
                    the portrait of the hateful <persName ref="#Philip_II">Philip II</persName> –
                    Adam and Eve – Entombment – and a host of others. The most adorable little
                    cabinet picture of the Holy Family by <persName ref="#Raphael"
                        >Raphael’s</persName> – 2 delightful portraits of Parmigiano and Holy Family
                    - a Giorgione, and one treasure after another – until it was quite bewildering.
                    We came away at one o’clock quite congealed with cold. The next day, <persName
                        ref="Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> and <persName ref="#Lapsley"
                        >Lapsley</persName>, <persName ref="Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> and a
                    valet de place made an early start for <placeName ref="#Toledo"
                        >Toledo</placeName>. <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName>
                    spent the morning at the gallery, and came home in a maze of delight – and I not
                    feeling very well sat by the fire and wrote letters. The next day the rest went
                    to the Escorial – <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and I
                    spent 3 hours at the Gallery – and yesterday being Sunday, we all went to the
                    gallery in the morning. <persName ref="Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> and I
                    to drive in the afternoon – <pb n="5"/> the rest to a bull fight! We found the
                    royal park distinctly depressing – limited, badly cared for, wretchedly planted
                    – afterwards we drove to the great park – but were so cold and tired we could
                    not enjoy anything and came home wondering at the crowds of people in the Park,
                    and in the streets, and if anywhere in the big city of <placeName ref="#Madrid"
                        >Madrid</placeName> there could be anybody left in a house. We got off at 6
                    tonight for <placeName ref="#Seville">Seville</placeName>. <persName
                        ref="Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> is packing – and we take our last
                    afternoon at the gallery. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18941129" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Granada. Nov. 29. </title></p>
                <p>We had a most uncomfortable ride to <placeName ref="#Seville">Seville</placeName>
                    the other night – arriving about 10 in the morning. Went to the Hotel de Madrid,
                    and were shown to the very rooms we occupied 7 years ago, with <persName
                        ref="#Wilson_Charlie">Charlie</persName> and <persName ref="#Wilson_Eleanor"
                        >Nellie</persName>. After breakfast went to the Cathedral, where we were not
                    allowed to put our heads in hardly – as the whole great structure was filled
                    with scaffolding and mighty supports. Soon after we were last there, one of the
                    great central piers toppled over one night – and the whole edifice on
                    examination was found so unsettled by various earthquakes that a mighty
                    restoration was necessary. In the afternoon a short visit to the almost
                    uninteresting gallery, and to the Caradid hospital, and then to the Aleazar, and
                    a last peep into the Cathedral in the gloom of the evening, brought us back to
                    the hotel in time for tea – and we lamented, at least <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and I, that time and money had
                    been wasted in <placeName ref="#Seville">Seville</placeName>. A start the next
                    morning at 10, and a long railway ride to <placeName ref="#Granada"
                        >Granada</placeName> which we reached at 8:30 in the evening, <pb n="6"/>
                    very tired and a long ride up to this hotel in the Alhambra grounds. Today it
                    has rained. I have stayed in doors. The hotel is almost empty – a stray American
                    or two – and 2 pleasant English people. The former name Biete Suelos, which it
                    carried when we were here before, has been changed into Hotel de Roma – it is
                    much the same thing however – with a little freshening in the way of paint and
                    paper – but far from luxurious – the table the best thing about it. Our rooms
                    are small and dark and not cheerful. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18941221" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Cairo. Shepheards Hotel. Dec. 21st. </title></p>
                <p>It seems a great stretch of time since I last wrote anything, and the days have
                    been inexpressibly long and tiresome. The cold that I began to take in the chill
                        <placeName ref="#Madrid">Madrid</placeName> gallery grew worse and worse,
                    and I am still in its clutches. We stayed three days at <placeName
                        ref="#Granada">Granada</placeName> – and it rained more or less all the time
                    – it was not cold, except in the house and in our dreary little sitting room,
                    overhung by the weeping and dripping trees, with the perpetual sound of a little
                    splashing fountain below, it was too gloomy to be brightened by the tiny stove,
                    that only smoked and never burned – our bedrooms were very damp. We left for
                        <placeName ref="#Gibraltar">Gibraltar</placeName> on Sunday Dec. On the 5
                    o’clock train, which made it necessary to be called at a quarter to 4, in order
                    to dress, breakfast, and drive the long distance to the station. <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and <persName ref="#Lapsley">Mr.
                        Lapsley</persName> breakfasted down stairs – but <persName
                        ref="Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> and I took our wretched little meal
                    of bad coffee, bad eggs and butter in our melancholy sitting <pb n="7"/> room by
                    the light of the lamp. It seemed quite in the middle of the night when we got
                    into the omnibus and there was an air of flight or secret adventure in it. We
                    had some time to wait in the draughty station – and then <persName
                        ref="Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> and I had a Berlina to ourselves,
                    in consideration of my ailing throat, and the necessary amount of tobacco smoke
                        <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and <persName
                        ref="#Lapsley_Mr">Lapsley</persName> had to manufacture. So we smuggled down
                    in our corners, and went promptly to sleep. At 10 o’clock we reached <placeName
                        ref="#Bobadilla">Bobadilla</placeName>, where we breakfasted and changed
                    cars. As the day wore on the wind became very cold and violent – our speed was
                    anywhere from 8-10 miles an hour. We arrived at Algemesi after dark in a pouring
                    rain to learn that no boat had been running from <placeName ref="#Gibraltar"
                        >Gibraltar</placeName> because of the storm, for 3 days. We were plunged
                    into instant despair, when we were accosted by a pleasant friendly voice in
                    English which explained to us that its owner was the Gen. Sup. of the English
                    R.R. – and he kindly invited us to his rooms near by until some place could be
                    found for the night. The pleasant sitting room looked most cheerful – and he
                    gave me a glass of wine and a biscuit – and we warmed and dried ourselves before
                    getting into the curious little affair on wheels called a carriage – <persName
                        ref="#Johnson_Mr">Mr. Johnson</persName> too, kindly sent one of his men,
                    speaking both English and Spanish with us. The first hotel to which we went had
                    only 2 rooms to give us. Then we went to another, where we found all the rooms
                    we wanted – very clean and almost comfortable – and we were thankful to get a
                    really good dinner, and go to bed. It was kept by an old man, with a large
                    family of sons and daughters, who were the servants of the house. The next
                    morning after breakfast we drove back <pb n="8"/> to the station, uncertain
                    whether the boat would come over from <placeName ref="#Gibraltar"
                        >Gib.</placeName> or if we would be obliged to go back for 2 stations on the
                    R.R. and drive for 3 hours to <placeName ref="#Gibraltar">Gib.</placeName>.
                    Again <persName ref="#Johnson_Mr">Mr. Johnson</persName> came to our aid, and
                    took us to his rooms, until we heard the boat was coming, where we sat for an
                    hour – he and <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> talking about
                    building railways – and he showed us a huge book of photographs that he had
                    taken of the road in its various phases – and told us of the special
                    difficulties they encountered from <placeName ref="#Gibraltar">Gib.</placeName>
                    to <placeName ref="#Cordova">Cordova</placeName>. Then we went out to the pier
                    which extends some distance – and found that some of it was quite covered with
                    water – the waves breaking from time to time over it. Our little steamer lay
                    some distance out, bobbing up and down on the rough water, and there were 2
                    small boats to take us and our luggage out. So we waded in some places ankle
                    deep in water, and then we plumped into the boat which was dripping with water,
                    and lifting on the waves in a most unpleasant manner. However we finally reached
                    our former rooms in the Royal Hotel in <placeName ref="#Gibraltar"
                        >Gib</placeName>, and <persName ref="#Lapsley_Mr">Mr. Lapsley</persName>
                    said goodbye at once and went off to the Werra in which he was going to
                        <placeName ref="#Genoa">Genoa</placeName>. The rain poured hopelessly all
                    that day, and all the next, while we waited for our P. &amp; O. steamer which
                    was signaled at 4 – when I was bundled into numerous wraps, with a shawl tied
                    over my head, put into a carriage, and then into a small boat, and finally
                    landed on the deck of the Oriental more dead than alive – I at once went to bed
                    and sent for the ship’s doctor – a very kind, dapper little man in his dinner
                    dress, who told me to stay in bed, and gave me some nauseous drugs – and there I
                    did stay for four <pb n="9"/> days, with many a cockroach to keep me company –
                    our rooms were very good – the boat was crowded – every berth full – but we all
                    had our rooms to ourselves. We made <country ref="#Malta">Malta</country> the
                    evening of Friday jut at sunset and stopped some hour to coal – and arrived at
                        <placeName ref="#Brindisi">Brindisi</placeName> Sunday morning. English mail
                    – 900 bags arrived at 10pm. But it rained most of the time and I could not be on
                    deck. I was immensely bored by the whole voyage – Wednesday afternoon we sighted
                    the <placeName ref="#Damietta">Damietta</placeName> light – and at 5 o’clock cat
                    anchor at <placeName ref="#Port_Said">Port Said</placeName> where we lay until
                    midnight coaling again. What a scene from the Inferno it was, those black
                    figures in the glare of the torches! We were all packed and ready to land as
                        <placeName ref="#Ismailia">Ismailia</placeName> early in the morning – were
                    called at 4:30 – but it was after 6 before we got off in the tender. Our 3 nice
                    English boys who sat at table with us were up to see us off – as well as the
                    Doctor and with no regrets I looked my last at the Oriental as she steamed away
                    to <placeName ref="#Suez">Suez</placeName>. We had breakfast and a drive at
                        <placeName ref="#Ismailia">Ismailia</placeName> and took the train at 1
                    o’clock arriving here at 5:30. Found <persName ref="#Salah_Mohammed"
                        >Mohammed</persName> waiting for us and gladly took possession of our
                    pleasant rooms here. The next morning we drove over on the other ide of the
                    river to inspect several dahabeahs and at last went to our old <name type="boat"
                        >Herodotus</name> – which we found in fine order – she having been entirely
                    scraped and repainted outside and in. Our old Reis, <persName ref="#Fuli_Rais"
                        >Fooley</persName>, <persName ref="#Hassan">Hasan</persName>, and others of
                    our old crew were on her – and gave us the heartiest welcome – and we felt at
                    home there. We looked her carefully over, and decided to make a condition of our
                    taking her that she should have new carpets – curtains etc. which Rostovitch’s
                    agent when we saw him acceded to at once – and we were allowed <pb n="10"/> to
                    choose them – and <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> and I met
                    the agent in the afternoon at Pasquale’s, a large shop here – and drove them all
                    out of their wit because of our impossible tastes. Never have I seen anything so
                    hideous in the way of carpets and stuffs. We at last chose not what we liked,
                    but what was least objectionable, and <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> and <persName ref="Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName>
                    report that they turn out very well. For after leaving Pasquale’s we drove to
                        <persName ref="#Sandwith_Dr">Dr. Sandwith’s</persName> office, who pounded
                    me and stethoscoped me, and said I must go home and stay in the house until I
                    got better. Since then, I have stayed in two rooms, and the week has been long,
                    and I find it difficult to get rid of my cough. Our rooms are at the front of
                    the hotel, and overlook the street and entrance and terrace, so that I can stare
                    at the amusing and ever shifting panorama and I do stand and tare, until I am
                    too tired to look longer. Fortunately our sitting room and my room that opens
                    out of it, have both of them open grates, and we have kept fires burning every
                    day. The weather is not very good – as <persName ref="#Sandwith_Dr">Dr.
                        Sandwith’s</persName> says “you must remember this is our rough winter
                    weather”. My room is really huge – with two lofty French windows – two single
                    lace canopied beds –with their very necessary mosquito nets, two enormous
                    wardrobes – equally large bureau, dressing table, washstand, lounge and square
                    table in the middle of the room, even with four trunks in it, it remains
                    spacious. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18941226" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Wednesday, Dec. 26 </title></p>
                <p>We came on board the <name type="boat">Herodotus</name> on the 23d Sunday morning
                    – a strong south wind had been blowing for days – but everything had been <pb
                        n="11"/> ready for us for some time. I was tired of the hotel and we hope
                    the south wind would soon be discouraged. But on Monday it holding as strong as
                    ever, we pulled about half a mile away along the bank – and the next day Xmas,
                    we pulled over to <placeName ref="#Giza">Ghizeh</placeName>, and lay opposite
                    the Museum about in the place we lay for a week on coming down the river last
                    time. <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> rode out on donkeys to visit the
                    Museum – but I am still condemned to indoors because this south wind is so
                    strong and so cold. <persName ref="#Bronson_Mrs">Mrs. Bronson</persName> and her
                    daughter came over again to see us and have tea. <persName ref="#Sandwith_Dr"
                        >Dr. Sandwith</persName> came to see me the first day on board, and brought
                    two leaves and a fruit of the Pawpaw tree – from which the Papoid tablets are
                    made, that <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> relies on so
                    entirely. It is an Indian tree, and he says the native claim that if touch meat
                    is wrapped in its leaves, it will become tender, but if left too long, putrid,
                    and that the leaves are used in India for cooking with food to make it
                    digestible. The fruit is not unlike our Ohio Pawpaw tree – but the leaf entirely
                    unlike. I must look into the matter when I get home. Have been very busy getting
                    settled. The boat looks greatly improved – and we have such a lot of room. I
                    have taken <persName ref="#Amory_Howard">Howard’s</persName> old room for my
                    dressing room, and <persName ref="Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName>, <persName
                        ref="#Fielding_Mr">Fielding’s</persName> old room for her dressing room –
                    and the stern room makes a charming sitting room. Our new cook proves a great
                    success. There seems no end to the variety of his things – and we were amazed
                    the first morning at breakfast to have the most delicious waffles sent in to us.
                    We had a quiet little Xmas – giving the men the present we had brought for them.
                    Our old Captain gabbles as fast as ever – most of our old men are with us again
                    – and being without drago-<pb n="12"/>man we are going to be brought in
                    pleasanter and closer relations to them – we all like the feeling I think, of
                    being without a boss.</p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18941230" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Sunday after Christmas. Dec. 30 </title></p>
                <p>The south wind has held the whole week – and I have felt most impatient –
                        <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and <persName
                        ref="Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> go into <placeName ref="#Cairo"
                        >Cairo</placeName> every day – there is always some last thing to be bought.
                    We left our landing this afternoon and pulled along a little way opposite the
                    town of <placeName ref="#Giza">Ghizeh</placeName> – why I do not know. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950101" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Tuesday. Jan. 1. 1895 </title></p>
                <p>The wind came out light from the north yesterday morning, and we got away at last
                    under sail. It grew quite strong during the day, and we sailed through the night
                    until about 6 o’clock this morning – I heard the men all through the night – and
                    about one o’clock we stuck on a sand bank – I then got up lighted a candle, and
                    let it burn itself out, and finally went to sleep. We think we made about 50
                    miles. But this morning there is no wind – if any, from the south – however by
                    tracking and polling we made one mile today. I have been up on deck two or three
                    times – finding the sun and air delicious – we have 3 big basket hooded chairs,
                    all lined and trimmed – that proved to be delightful things and serve equally
                    well as a protection against sun and wind. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950102" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Wednesday. Jan. 2. </title></p>
                <p>Tracked and polled against the wind until we reached <placeName ref="#Wasta"
                        >Wasta</placeName> – <pb n="13"/> 56 miles from <placeName ref="#Cairo"
                        >Cairo</placeName>. The pyramid of <placeName ref="#Meidum"
                        >Meydoum</placeName> has been before us for 2 days - quite splendid – made 4
                    to 5 miles. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950104" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Friday. Jan. 4. </title></p>
                <p>We have tracked and pulled to an anchor, and polled for 2 days, and have had our
                    sail out at times, and have thus made about 10 miles in 2 days – cold and not
                    quite clear. Have only been on deck a few moments today. The night are now so
                    perfect with the young moon, and these magnificent heavens – the stars so near
                    and big and bright – it is entrancing – we pulled up at a wide low sand bank for
                    the night – and it was really a hardship to have to stay indoors when there was
                    such a mystical beauty and loveliness without.</p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950105" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Saturday. Jan. 5. </title></p>
                <p><persName ref="Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> and I have just had a
                    discussion as to whether this was or was not Saturday. It gives on such a
                    strange, lost feeling to be uncertain as to the days, with no immediate
                    authority to appeal to. We have had rather a cold day – with fitful winds – we
                    have done a good deal of slow sailing - have passed <placeName ref="#Benisoef"
                        >Benisoef</placeName> - and are now at 9:30pm within a short distance of
                        <placeName ref="#Hibeh">Hibeh</placeName> – we may have made about 10 miles.
                    In the midst of a good turn of wind, we had to pull up at <placeName
                        ref="#Benisoef">Benisoef</placeName>, for a sailor who had been despatched
                    early this morning to that town to buy some fruit and vegetables. It was rather
                    vexatious – our nice big <persName ref="#Moussa">Moussa</persName> set off at
                    once across the fields to look for the man and hurry him. <persName
                        ref="Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> took his gun and disappeared. Then
                        <persName ref="Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> and I walked up <pb
                        n="14"/> and down the hard sand inhaling the delicious air, and staring
                    across the fields to see <placeName ref="#Benisoef">Benisoef</placeName> lying
                    back some distance on a canal amongst its palms – a large, important town – then
                    the sailor appeared with is well laden basket on his head; and as the wind blew
                    strongly, a sailor was sent off in haste to look for <persName
                        ref="Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> – <persName ref="#Hassan"
                        >Hasan</persName> to find <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> – and <persName ref="#Salah_Mohammed"
                        >Mohammed</persName> flew towards the town to find <persName ref="#Moussa"
                        >Moussa</persName> – and at last they all were hauled in and were off. The
                    night is magically lovely. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950106" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Sunday. Epiphany. Jan. 6. </title></p>
                <p>Had about half an hour of good wind early this morning – then a dead calm for the
                    rest of the day – the water reflecting everything like a mirror. The men tracked
                    and made about 2 miles – then at one we tied up – where we will stay all night.
                </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950107" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Monday. Jan 7. </title></p>
                <p>A dead calm with the exception of a few moments of fair wind this morning – made
                    4 miles by tracking – and are now lying at <placeName ref="#Fashen"
                        >Fashen</placeName>. <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and
                        <persName ref="Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> walked into the town and
                    posted some letters. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950108" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Tuesday. Jan. 8. </title></p>
                <p>Occasional light winds and with polling and tracking made about 12 miles. Passed
                        <placeName ref="#Haghagah">Haghagah</placeName>. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950109" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Wednesday. Jan. 9. </title></p>
                <p>Good head wind until 11 o’clock am - the middle of the day <pb n="15"/> very
                    still and hot – light wind later – sailed until 8pm and made 18 miles. <name
                        type="boat">Stella</name> near us for 4 days. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950110" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Thursday. Jan. 10. </title></p>
                <p>It was very hot and calm this morning- under a light south wind we have made in
                    the afternoon 2 miles – about 6 we tied up for the night, both awnings were
                    spread – and every one settled down to stay for the night – but about 9, as
                        <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and I had finished our
                    game of cribbage, a strong north wind began. The Captain waited awhile to see if
                    it had come to stay – then the awnings went down, and the stake came up, and we
                    have been bounding along ever since – I do not think it will be a good night to
                    sleep. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950111" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Friday. Jan. 11. </title></p>
                <p>It wasn’t a good night to sleep – what with the shifting of the sails, the orders
                    – the running backwards and forwards on the deck above me, it was quite
                    impossible – at 1 o’clock, I got up, lighted my candle and prowled into the
                    saloon, and found some biscuit and a glass of port wine. We reached <placeName
                        ref="#Minyeh">Minyeh</placeName> at 2 o’clock. On our first journey up the
                        <geogName ref="#Nile">Nile</geogName> we reached <placeName ref="#Minyeh"
                        >Minyeh</placeName> the 2d day – on our last the 7th day. We were obliged to
                    stop as we had ordered our mail sent there, and some fresh butter from the Swiss
                    Dairy at <placeName ref="#Cairo">Cairo</placeName>. <persName
                        ref="#Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> went off with old <persName
                        ref="#Moussa">Moussa</persName> to the town, coming back with a big parcel
                    of letters and papers. Then we got under way, and have been sailing ever since –
                    though <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> has given orders that
                    we shall stop at 10 o’clock. We have passed <placeName ref="#Beni_Hassan">Beni
                            <pb n="16"/>Hassan</placeName>, Rodah, where we pulled up on the
                    opposite side, and sent the felucca across to the town to get the ironing man
                    for whom <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> had written to
                        <placeName ref="#Cairo">Cairo</placeName> for. They found him waiting, with
                    the lot of fresh butter, which did not turn up at <placeName ref="#Minyeh"
                        >Minyeh</placeName> this morning. He is a very likely looking fellow – and
                    his name is <persName ref="#Ibrahim">Ibraim</persName> – we are so glad to have
                    a new name. There are already so many Mohammeds and Hasans! While the rest were
                    away at <placeName ref="#Rhodah">Rhodah</placeName>, I sat down on the lower
                    deck out of the wind for a few minutes – not having been out before – we had
                    tied up unceremoniously at a poor fellahs garden – where onions, cucumbers and
                    tomatoes were growing, carefully tended – he was a good looking fellow, who came
                    forward in his long black robe, to protect his property as well as he could – we
                    bought some tomatoes of him – and gave him a little money to pay for any damage
                    we might have caused. They never protest against the “Howadji” in a dahabeah –
                    and indeed the greatest damage is done by the troops of people who as soon as
                    they see a dahabeah approach the land, leave all, and come to stare. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950112" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Saturday. Jan. 12. </title></p>
                <p>We have made 2 or 3 miles – the day has been warm and still. On deck from 11
                    o’clock until 5 – such fragrant delicious air and such effects. The moon is so
                    full – and the nights lately have had a wonderful beauty. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950113" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Jan. 13th. Sunday – first after Epiphany. </title></p>
                <p>A fair wind most of the day brought us about 8 o’clock this <pb n="17"/> evening
                    within two miles of <placeName ref="#Manfalout">Manfalout</placeName> and we
                    have calculated that we have made about 24 1/2 miles today. I have been on deck
                    since 11 o’clock – that is until 5 o’clock – at which I came below – before the
                    first chill of the evening comes. <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> and <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName>
                    stay above until it is time to dress for dinner. It is a real hardship to leave
                    such beauty abroad – and this evening it was specially tantalizing – for the
                    scene was as interesting. We came to the great <geogName ref="#Gebel_Aboufeydah"
                        >Gebel Aboufeydah</geogName> chain early in the day. It is the most
                    difficult part of the river, and the most dangerous for the great cliffs come
                    sheer down to the water, and the currents are strong, and the wind shifting.
                    Just opposite the beginning of these cliffs, there is a long, low island
                    dividing the river – the channel next to the rocks is shorter – but the other
                    channel is the longer and safer. The <name type="boat">Stella</name> which has
                    again caught up with us, chose the latter and our Reis the former. I had to come
                    down during the most interesting time – and there was a great row on deck
                    afterwards – the sails constantly shifted – the shouting of orders – the running
                    and jumping about of the sailors. One would have thought again and again that we
                    were going to instant destruction. The <name type="boat">Stella</name> came out
                    best – as she did not feel in her channel the fluctuations of the wind as we
                    did. We have however passed ahead of her a little way, and are both anchored in
                    the broad stream, where it bends straight away from the cliffs towards
                        <placeName ref="#Manfalout">Manfalout</placeName>. These cliffs, so
                        <persName ref="#Chester_Mr">Mr. Chester</persName>, an Englishman who had
                    been coming for 20 years to <country ref="#Egypt">Egypt</country> for his
                    winters told me on our first voyage up, used to be the home of millions of birds
                    – which were so tame that you could row along them and almost <pb n="18"/> put
                    your hand upon them in their nests – but that they were rapidly being driven
                    away by the tourists and their guns. And I remember that on the first voyage
                        <persName ref="#Salah_Mohammed">Mohammed</persName> fired his gun, quite to
                    my displeasure, into the air to test the echo, and frighten the birds and all up
                    the great face of the cliffs, from countless holes and caves, they came out
                    screaming, big and little. Yesterday, on the contrary, although we were so long
                    getting past them, we only counted six birds! The <name type="boat"
                        >Stella</name> has 2 men on her, whose great pleasure consists in popping
                    their guns at every thing – and I am daily so annoyed at the hateful creatures,
                    murdering the delicious peace of the river, and trying to kill the few
                    characteristic and interesting birds, that still have the courage to live on the
                        <geogName ref="#Nile">Nile</geogName> – that highway of tourists. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950114" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Monday. Jan. 14. </title></p>
                <p>We are now lying at <placeName ref="#Asyut">Assiout</placeName> having made 28
                    miles. I was on deck much of the day. Sometime before noon, we saw as usual the
                    minaret of <placeName ref="#Asyut">Assiout</placeName> – but as usual were a
                    long time reaching the town – the river makes such great bends below – that the
                    distance is deluding. The wind grew very strong in the afternoon – too strong to
                    make one of the great turns and we touched at the bank to let <persName
                        ref="#Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> and Ibraim go into the town for the
                    mail and some necessary things. Our people all said the town was near – but poor
                        <persName ref="#Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> found he had a walk of 6
                    miles or more before getting into <placeName ref="#Asyut">Assiout</placeName>.
                    In the meantime we tracked and sailed and after dark, pulled up opposite the
                    light of the town, and sent our felucca over for the man – and now we are
                    deluged with papers – American <pb n="19"/> and English – and we feel as if we
                    must go through with them all. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950115" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Tuesday. Jan. 15. </title></p>
                <p>We started out betimes this morning sailing – it must have been soon after 7 –
                    and have been rattling along in fair style – past lovely shores of splendid
                    palms and the most luxuriant scent trees with their soft rounded outlines – the
                    air has been fragrant with the blossoming crops – fefl and gulhan. But the wind
                    has been too strong for me to be out – just after tea I wrapped myself in my big
                    cloak, and went on deck and stayed about 10 minutes in the hooded chair – it was
                    too tantalizing to have to come down. But downstairs is not half a bad place –
                    with the shifting scenes on either shore – the sunny windows – all the space to
                    myself – for <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> are always on deck – and I have
                    dozens of pleasant things to do – we are still (10 P.M.) sailing – and <persName
                        ref="#Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> has just been in reporting that we are
                    within 4 or 5 miles of <placeName ref="#Tahtah">Tahtah</placeName>. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950116" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Jan. 16. Wednesday. </title></p>
                <p>We pulled up to <placeName ref="#Girgeh">Girgeh</placeName> this evening about 7
                    o’clock – after an uninterrupted sail from <placeName ref="#Asyut"
                        >Asiout</placeName> yesterday morning. All night long we bowled along
                    steadily – and I dreamily wondered as I have wakened through the night, how
                    weary the Reis and all the crew must be. The wind, grew very rough toward
                    morning, and about 5:30 we went bang upon a and bank with a great thump – and I
                    did not sleep again – though we soon got off the sand, and careered along on our
                    triumphant course. <pb n="20"/> We passed <placeName ref="#Sohag"
                        >Sohag</placeName> at 9:30 – and <placeName ref="#Akmim">Akmim</placeName>
                    half an hour after – where we saw Cooks big dahabeah the “Hathor” lying with her
                    tug – she having passed us while we were lying at <placeName ref="#Ghizeh"
                        >Ghizeh</placeName>. The paper reported that “Lord and Lady Amherst de
                    Hackney and their four daughters” – that they had taken this dahabeah and tug
                    for 3 months and a camping equipage – and that they would make many excursions.
                    They started soon after we passed them – but they could not catch us in the wind
                    we had – we sailed a long distance close to the perpendicular cliffs, which come
                    down quite to the water – and the setting sun made a wonderful rose color of the
                    limestone – and shadows wonderfully blue. We have been going through much lovely
                    country – palms – dom palms – scents and sycamores in richest profusion – and
                    the country highly cultivated – it is one of the very richest provinces of
                        <country ref="#Egypt">Egypt</country>. I have had to be down stairs all day,
                    because of the wind. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950117" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Girgeh – Jan. 17. </title></p>
                <p>Thursday - We have been lying here all day at the big low sand bank where we lay
                    two years ago, opposite the town. We are here to have the sailors’ bread baked –
                    some people will not stop here – it is a dirty, uninteresting town – but the
                    captains all prefer it to <placeName ref="#Balliana">Balliana</placeName> or
                        <placeName ref="#Akmim">Akmim</placeName>, where are most interesting things
                    to do. But our Reis lives here – and we have not the hard heart that can insist
                    upon his stopping elsewhere, <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName>
                    and <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> have been twice over to
                    the town to walk – but I have stayed at home – for a cold wind has been blowing
                    from the north – a fine sailing wind – and even the deck enclosed <pb n="21"/>
                    with canvas was cold. All our fowls – the whole barnyard has been turned out on
                    the sand – chickens – doves – geese – turkeys – ducks – rabbits and 3 little
                    brown woolly sheep, that were bought today – and a big washing has been going on
                    – and our fluttering clothes make a great show on their lines. Everybody very
                    nearly deserted the boat today – and it was very quiet. My nice <persName
                        ref="#Salah_Mohammed">Mohammed</persName> who always went everywhere with me
                    last year, and who is a brother in law of our Reis – heard on reaching here last
                    night that his father died ten days ago – and there has been a great sorrow
                    amongst them. We are interested in our daily readings in Kidds Social Evolution.
                    For the first time a few nights ago, we saw the Zodiacal light – and since then
                    it has been seen several times – we were a little nebulous about the affair –
                    and got out our Astronomy – and read about the little that is known of it. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950118" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Friday. Jan. 18th. </title></p>
                <p>We left <placeName ref="#Girgeh">Girgeh</placeName> about 12 o’clock – having
                    taken on a great stock of bread – enough to last until we reach <placeName
                        ref="#Girgeh">Girgeh</placeName> again, the Reis says – made <placeName
                        ref="#Balliana">Balliana</placeName> about 7 o’clock – and the wind having
                    been very light all day – two dahabeahs – the “<name type="boat">Mimi</name>”
                    English – and the “<name type="boat">Columbia</name>” with the American flag.
                    The former is a new private dahabeah, belonging to an Englishman, very
                    attractive in appearance – and what arouses my interest in her is that she has a
                    stove pipe! And I wonder whether they have a stove arranged or an open fire.
                    This boat, and the very pretty new one belonging to a Pole, which lay next us at
                        <placeName ref="#Cairo">Cairo</placeName> – have aroused <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName>’s ardor about building one. He
                    always talks of building one <pb n="22"/> going up the <geogName ref="#Nile"
                        >Nile</geogName> – but coming down, there is very little said about it. This
                    afternoon just as we had landed the men for tracking, I saw them looking at
                    something in the water floating by us, and <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette"
                        >Nettie</persName> and I took up our glasses to see what it was – and to our
                    horror discovered it was the body of a woman. It was a dreadfully gruesome
                    spectacle! </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950119" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Saturday. Jan. 19th. </title></p>
                <p>Got away from <placeName ref="#Balliana">Balliana</placeName> early – deciding
                    that as the day was so hot, we would not attempt the long ride out to <placeName
                        ref="Adydos">Abydos</placeName>. <name type="boat">Columbia</name> near us
                    all day. Stayed on deck most of the time. Are lying about half way between
                        <placeName ref="#Balliana">Balliana</placeName> and <placeName
                        ref="#Farshoot">Farshoot</placeName>, having made 8-10 miles. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950120" type="Entry">
                <p><title>2d Sunday after Epiphany. Jan. 20. </title></p>
                <p>We are lying tonight at <placeName ref="#Dishneh">Dishneh</placeName>, where we
                    pulled up for the night in a strong and fitful wind – having made about 29
                    miles. Have passed <placeName ref="#Farshoot">Farshoot</placeName> – Hou – and
                    Kar el-Sayd. The river makes great bends between <placeName ref="#Girgeh"
                        >Girgeh</placeName> and Keneh – and its direction is almost directly E and
                    W. This morning instead of having the sun in my room while I was dressing as I
                    always have – I found that apparently it was rising in the west, and I was left
                    in the cold. At 7:30 <persName ref="#Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> always
                    brings the lighted lamp into my room, and puts it on the floor – in a little
                    while he brings me a fragrant cup of tea – then the hot water comes along- then
                    the outside shutters are opened – the sun pours in – and I am ready to get up! I
                    intended to have done a great deal of writing <pb n="23"/> today – but it was so
                    charming on deck, I could not come below – such fragrant air, full of the
                    perfume of the blossoming crops – such lights, such shadows on the utterly
                    desert mountains – such splendid palms and groves of scent trees – lubbeks –
                    tamarasks – the song of the shadoof is abroad in the land – and today we have
                    passed several musically creaking sakkiehs. At one time very near us on a low
                    sand bank, were 10 large pelicans – the biggest I had ever seen – they waited
                    until we were quite up to them, then spread their wings, and sailed away on the
                    water. Fortunately <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and
                        <persName ref="#Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> were both below, or the gun
                    would have been out. The <name type="boat">Mimi</name> has been ahead of us all
                    day – but this afternoon we came up to her hopelessly stuck upon a sand bank –
                    and there we left her. But she can much outsail us.</p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950121" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Monday. Jan. 21. </title></p>
                <p>Started out this morning at 7:30 with a good wind – which held until about 11 –
                    when it failed so much that as we drew near <placeName ref="#Keneh"
                        >Keneh</placeName>, we debated whether or not we would go ashore and find
                    our antiquity dealer of whom <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName>
                    bought two or three very good things last year. But we decided not to stop – and
                    the wind increasing we made the turn below <placeName ref="#Keneh"
                        >Keneh</placeName> in fine style, the river her turning quite sharply to the
                    South once more. We careered along in a beautiful manner – the wind so high as
                    to make the sailing exciting – and almost dangerous. I stayed below. We passed
                        <placeName ref="#Coptos">Coptos</placeName> – then <placeName ref="#Kus"
                        >Kus</placeName> – and about 5 <placeName ref="#Nagada">Nagada</placeName> –
                    and are now about 6 miles from <placeName ref="#Luxor">Luxor</placeName>. </p>
            </div>

            <pb n="24"/>
            <div xml:id="EBA18950122" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Tuesday. Jan. 22</title></p>
                <p>We could not make our paltry 6 miles to <placeName ref="#Luxor">Luxor</placeName>
                    until about 6 o'clock this evening - though we were trying all day to do it. We
                    pulled up to the gezirah opposite the town - and began settling ourselves in
                    very nearly our old quarters. It was lovely this hot calm day - the mountains
                    opposite <placeName ref="#Luxor">Luxor</placeName> taking such soft pink and
                    heliotrope tints.</p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950131" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Thursday. Jan. 31. </title></p>
                <p>A very quiet and uneventful week at <placeName ref="#Luxor">Luxor</placeName>. I
                    tried to ride over to <placeName ref="#Karnak">Karnak</placeName> the first
                    afternoon – and spent the morning of the 2d day in <placeName ref="#Luxor"
                        >Luxor</placeName>, principally at <persName ref="#Mohassib_Mohammed"
                        >Mohammed Mohasib’s</persName> – and in the afternoon went over to the races
                    – and between them all, grew so tired and added so much to my cold – that I have
                    stayed on the boat every day since – except Sunday – when <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> and I went over to the little
                    English chapel for service. We found 4 dahabeahs at <placeName ref="#Luxor"
                        >Luxor</placeName> – and they were arriving from down the river during the
                    week. I believe we left 11 lying there. Two days before we came away, we pulled
                    across the river to below the German’s new castle. There has been no wind for
                    days – we intended getting away yesterday – but there was not a breath – so when
                    after breakfast this morning a fair little wind sprang up, <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> gave orders to start, but it soon
                    failed – and we had to take to tracking. We had all our awnings up – and it was
                    entirely charming on deck – so quiet – the whole earth wrapped in a white soft
                    shroud of intense heat. We have had quite an unpleasant and very exciting
                    experience this after-<pb n="25"/>noon. The men were tracking and we were slowly
                    slipping past a high bank near the village of ed-Debayeh about 2 miles from
                        <placeName ref="#Erment">Erment</placeName>. <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> was absorbed in a chess puzzle in the saloon – and I
                    had got into my wrapper and was preparing for a good rest – when I heard loud
                    voices and talking above – and so much stir that <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> called up to <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette"
                        >Nettie</persName> who is always on deck to know what the trouble was – but
                    he did not wait for an answer but seized a stout stick, called out to me as he
                    passed my room that there was trouble on shore, and he was going to see what it
                    was. Then <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> called to me to
                    come quickly – and I hustled into my dress and rushed up on deck, just in time
                    to see <persName ref="#Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> disappearing over the high
                    bank with his gun, and two of our sailors armed with poles, assisting our old
                    Abbocatto over the bank in a most unceremonious fashion. The bank was too high
                    and steep for <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> and me to
                    climb, even with assistance – besides there was no one left on the boat but the
                    2 cooks – nor could we see over the bank – but we heard a tremendous hubbub,
                    shrieking and shouting and two report of the gun – and then I feared serious
                    trouble. Then arrived my <persName ref="#Salah_Mohammed">Mahommed</persName> and
                        <persName ref="#Ali">Ali</persName>, with a man in custody, whom they were
                    kicking and beating furiously, and whom they flung over the bank – he came
                    headlong – and <persName ref="#Ali">Ali</persName> slid down after him and
                    resumed his infuriated beating of him – my calling and cries were not heeded,
                    and as Hasan appeared at the top with another man, whom he knocked over the bank
                    and plunged after, beating him unmercifully, I flew down the companionway to
                        <persName ref="#Selim">Selim</persName>, the cook, and told him to tell
                        <persName ref="#Hassan">Hassan</persName> and <persName ref="#Ali"
                        >Ali</persName>, that I would not suffer such conduct – that if the men were
                    guilty the sheik of the village would <pb n="26"/> punish them, but they should
                    not beat them. Then the men were brought on board as prisoners, and I told
                        <persName ref="#Selim">Selim</persName> to protect them from violence until
                    we knew what the trouble was. A moment after the uproar grew nearer, and
                    swarming over the bank came our people, followed by a crowd of women and
                    children, but no men. These women began shrieking more wildly than ever when
                    they saw our two prisoners – they threw dust over their heads, and danced about
                    like wild savages. Order was given to cast off at once, and a favorable breeze
                    having sprung up, we were able to get out of that troublesome neighborhood. They
                    all followed along the bank, making all the noise they could and they must have
                    sent some of their people on two mile to a landing near Erment, as when we drew
                    up there, we found two gens d’armes waiting for us. In the meantime when our men
                    came back to the boat, it was found that the Captain had a cruel cut on his
                    head, which was bleeding profusely, and <persName ref="#Moussa"
                        >Moussa</persName> looked as if he had been nearly slaughtered – he head cut
                    open in two places, looking very bad. <persName ref="#Ibrahim">Ibraim</persName>
                    also had a bad cut on his arm. They were all in a perfect rage – and it was all
                    that <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> and I and <persName
                        ref="#Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> could do, to keep them quiet enough to
                    wash and dress their wound. When we had landed and the officers had come on
                    board we had a solemn hearing, except when the excitement of the old Reis broke
                    out. A huge audience on the bank – the broken heads were exhibited, and a man
                    came on the lower deck from the crowd, to show a broken head of his own. Our
                    dignified <persName ref="#Selim">Selim</persName> was summoned from his kitchen,
                    and acted as interpreter and then <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> called for our second captain – our favorite <persName
                        ref="#Fuli_Rais">Reis Fuli</persName> to give his account – which he did in
                    so calm, and <pb n="27"/> perfect a manner, that it was a sight to see, in that
                    crowd of angry savages. <persName ref="#Mohammed_Rais">Reis Mohammed</persName>
                    wanted to go back to <placeName ref="#Luxor">Luxor</placeName>, as the officers
                    suggested, to enter his complain – but <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> announced very decidedly that he had already had
                    trouble and detention enough – and that he would wait no longer. I must say the
                    manner of the officers was excellent – until they took possession of the
                    prisoners – whom they hustled about in a very undignified way, but not severe –
                    their turbans being torn from their heads, and unwound and used as fetters. One
                    of them was quite an old man with a long wound or gash in his leg. I felt
                    tempted to tell <persName ref="#Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> to go and dress
                    it – but I’m afraid our crew would almost have mobbed him – that being an act of
                    grace to an enemy, far from their comprehension. Finally we got away, and let it
                    all behind us – and then we began to hear the different incidents of the affair
                    = the only one being that <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName>
                    told of our old, and almost decrepid Abbecatto – a painfully timid man, in all
                    his daily manifestations, who had hurried to the scene of conflict with the
                    hatchet in his hand – which <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName>
                    saw him using (the hammer side) on the back of one of the prisoners, as he was
                    being led to the boat by our men. <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> unceremoniously took the hatchet from him, and ordered
                    him back to the boat, feeling that if the old man stopped and thought, he might
                    use the other end of it. <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName>
                    says that when he reached the village, the <persName ref="#Mohammed_Rais">Reis
                    </persName> and <persName ref="#Moussa">Moussa</persName> were standing bleeding
                    but surrounded by the sellers, and at some distance from them, the village
                    people were facing them. <persName ref="#Moussa">Moussa</persName> had gone to
                    help the <persName ref="#Mohammed_Rais">Reis </persName>, <pb n="28"/> who had
                    been worsted in a struggle with some of them – <persName ref="#Jones_Daniel"
                        >Jones</persName> and his gun, which he fired occasionally into the air,
                    held the village people at bay, or no doubt our men would have fared badly.
                    Everyone was so excited at first, and so concerned to see our men wounded, that
                    they could not take a dispassionate view of it – and both <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> thought me severe, when I said
                    from the first that I thought we were to blame. Our coleric old <persName
                        ref="#Mohammed_Rais">Reis </persName>, instead of entering a complaint with
                    the Sheik of the village, got into a temper with some of the people – and no one
                    knows who struck the first blow, the mischievous children and boys who threw the
                    mud, of course fell as it so often does in this world, on the innocent. The two
                    prisoner, maltreated as they were, were not offenders so far as we could learn.
                    It was very comical to reflect, that every able bodied man, headed by the
                        <persName ref="#Mohammed_Rais">Reis </persName>, made off to the <persName
                        ref="#Mohammed_Rais">Reis </persName>, made off to the fray, leaving the
                    beat, and we two unprotected women to the care of the 2 cooks! It hardly answers
                    to our idea of discipline on a ship! We came to <placeName ref="#Erment"
                        >Erment</placeName> and will stay all night – making 9 miles. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950201" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Friday. Feb. 1st. </title></p>
                <p>We have had a very good day – making 40 miles – passed Esneh about 5 o’clock. The
                        <name type="boat">Columbia</name> which has been quite in advance of us from
                        <placeName ref="#Luxor">Luxor</placeName>, landed at <placeName ref="#Esneh"
                        >Esneh</placeName>, and the <name type="boat">Mansourah</name>, which passed
                    us yesterday during the fracas, still holds her own, ahead of us. We met her
                    people in the garden at <placeName ref="#Erment">Erment</placeName>, where
                    everybody goes to buy fruit and vegetables. We are lying 2 or 3 miles from
                        <placeName ref="#El_Kab">El Kab</placeName> this evening. </p>
            </div>

            <pb n="29"/>
            <div xml:id="EBA18950202" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Saturday. Feb. 2d. </title></p>
                <p>A splendid run of today – 60 miles – steady, fine sailing all the time. Pased
                        <placeName ref="#El_Kab">El Kab</placeName> – <placeName ref="#Edfou"
                        >Edfou</placeName> – <placeName ref="#Silsilis">Silsilis</placeName> just at
                    sunset – so that we were able to see the grottos as we sailed by – such an
                    interesting point of the river – the rocks coming down to the narrowed river –
                    the either side. We have been steadily gaining on the <name type="boat"
                        >Mansourah</name> all day – until the race became very exciting as we draw
                    near <placeName ref="#Kom_Ombo">Kom Ombo</placeName> – by a clever move, our old
                    Reis cleverly took advantage of a manouvre on their part, and passed them, and
                    soon we lost sight of them in the night. The moon is now radiant. We have passed
                        <placeName ref="#Kom_Ombo">Kom Ombo</placeName>, and are lying about 3 miles
                    above. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950203" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Sunday. Feb. 3. Assouan. </title></p>
                <p>We dragged through the whole day, arriving at <placeName ref="#Aswan"
                        >Assouan</placeName> when it was almost too dark to see that beautiful
                    approach, a number of dahabeahs here – we are a little in advance of our former
                    position at <placeName ref="Elephantine">Elephantine</placeName>. The <name
                        type="boat">Isis</name> is just opposite – and <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> have gone over to her, to see if
                    her people are going up in their steamer to <placeName ref="#Wadi_Halfa">Wady
                        Halfa</placeName>, as they expected to do tomorrow, when we saw them last.
                    Such a radiant night. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950210" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Sunday – Septuagesima. Feb. 10th. </title></p>
                <p>We have had a very hot, unsatisfactory week. The thermometer has ranged from
                    80-86 in the shade. At one time the dahabeahs numbered 12 – of which I am glad
                    to say we were always first or second – but <pb n="30"/> the little sand beach
                    along the island of <placeName ref="#Elephantine">Elephantine</placeName> is
                    very small – and grew to be very smelly. Now that so many dahabeahs go up the
                    river this landing place should be under police supervision. There were so many
                    steamers too, on the <placeName ref="#Aswan">Asouan side</placeName>, and the
                    river is so narrow here, that they seem very intrusive – and the new Cook boats
                    are so big and noisy – with their brilliant electric lights – they are a
                    positive offence – and the cataract boats are now so many – and their crews so
                    noisy – there was no peace – they were rowing up and down, until 12 o’clock at
                    night – singing, and hip-hip hurrahing – with their “tink you tink yous” and
                    “very good, very goods”. I grew pretty tired of them – I went once out to
                        <placeName ref="#Philae">Philae</placeName> – having an extra train all to
                    myself – costing but $10. <persName ref="#Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName>,
                        <persName ref="#Salah_Mohammed">Mohammed</persName> and Ibraim, and the
                    lunch went with me, and <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and
                        <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> went over early on
                    donkeys. It was almost one o’clock before I got there – I found it crowded with
                    tourists. Pharaoh’s Bed was filled with tables and all the Cookites lunching at
                    them. So we had ours far off in one of the colonnades – almost exactly in the
                    pot from which <persName ref="#Newman_Mr">Mr. Newman’s</persName> picture that
                        <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> has was painted. As we
                    were making our way over there, I saw little Yema coming and I said to <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName>, “don’t ay anything, I want to see
                    if he knows me”. He looked at me a moment, and then threw out both hands with an
                    exclamation that was quite tragic, and with a cry of joy rushed forward to see
                    me. Very little grown – the same sweet, appealing little fellow – he stuck
                    closely by me all the time. Then we asked for “Dendowi” and he was shortly
                    produced – looking more like a small, brown reproduction of <persName
                        ref="#Victoria_Queen">Queen Victoria</persName> than ever – and with the
                    same impertur-<pb n="31"/>bable dignity – <placeName ref="#Philae"
                        >Philae</placeName> seemed more lovely to me and interesting than ever – I
                    suppose because its doom seems to have been pronounced. We could see on the
                    walls of Pharaoh’s Bed – coloured wafers at a certain level – showing where the
                    inundation water would reach, if the dam is built. I did not see the <persName
                        ref="#Newman_Mr_Mrs">Newmans</persName> – as I did not feel equal to
                    climbing down to their dahabeah – and I wanted so much to talk to her about
                    Yemma – <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> saw them for a few
                    moments in the temple – but with many people about them – Yemma told me
                        <persName ref="#Newman_Mrs">Mrs. Newman</persName> had given him everything
                    he had on – and proceeded to show me each article – first beginning with his
                    turban, which we had already remarked, as being very large and impressive. This
                    he took off his head and unwound, showing a pair of drawers, which he put on,
                    after discreetly turning his back. We came home in one of the Cataract boats –
                    the crew particularly picturesque with their turbans and flashing white teeth.
                    The descent of the cataract too, seemed more exciting than ever. We passed the
                    little island, against whose black rocks we came to grief, when we tried to get
                    up the cataract last year with the <name type="boat">Herodotus</name>. And we
                    have felt much aggrieved to see a dahabeah coming in after her descent – and to
                    see the pretty little Polish boat pass us one morning, with banners flying and
                    guns firing, on her way to the ascent. I have been once over to the town and the
                    bazaar – and for a short sail one evening before dinner – all the rest of the
                    time I have stayed on the boat – not daring to venture out in the heat of the
                    day – or in the cool of the evening. I always think one of the pleasantest
                    things to do at <pb n="32"/>
                    <placeName ref="#Aswan">Assouan</placeName> is to walk on the island of
                        <placeName ref="#Elephantine">Elephantine</placeName> – but I could not do
                    this because of the heat. It is so densely clothed with palms and other trees
                    that in this heat it harboured millions of mosquitos, which were quite annoying.
                    The night with the full moon have been quite beautiful – and all of the time we
                    have the music of the same old croaking sakkish in our ears. The <persName
                        ref="#Scott_Elliot_Mr_Mrs">Scott-Elliots</persName> are expected down from
                        <placeName ref="#Wadi_Halfa">Wady Half</placeName> tomorrow – but we shall
                    not wait for them, but start early for <placeName ref="#Kom_Ombos">Kom
                        Ombos</placeName> – quite glad to get away from <placeName ref="#Aswan"
                        >Assouan</placeName>. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950211" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Monday. Feb. 11. </title></p>
                <p><persName ref="#Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> went over quite early this morning
                    for the last mail, and then we made ready to start – all the fowls were caught
                    and cooped – stakes brought in – ropes slipped. The <name type="boat"
                        >Zunt-el-Nil</name> came up yesterday close behind us, ready to slip into
                    our place when we left, and we saw our old <persName ref="#Achmed_Rais">Reis
                        Achmed</persName> of the <name type="boat">Nubia</name>, who is now Captain
                    of the <name type="boat">Zunt-el-Nil</name> so nice and dignified – we dropped
                    down the river, stopped here and there to put off some friends of the Captains
                    or one of the crew. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950212" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Feb. 12th. Kom Ombo. </title></p>
                <p>In my haste the evening of the 12th at <placeName ref="#Kom_Ombos">Kom
                        Ombo</placeName> I forgot the day before – when we made 18 miles only. We
                    made our 8 miles to <placeName ref="#Kom_Ombos">Kom Ombo</placeName> by half
                    past 3 o’clock, almost to our surprise we found ourselves at <placeName
                        ref="#Kom_Ombos">Kom Ombo</placeName> and the <name type="boat"
                        >Columbia</name> lying there. We waited until 5 o’clock, until the heat had
                    abated a little, and then went up. I had never seen this temple before, except
                    in passing. Two years ago, it was cleaned <pb n="33"/> and excavated by
                        <persName ref="#de_Morgan_Mr">Mr. de Morgan</persName> – too much cleaned,
                    many people think. It is certainly very swept and garnished and is most
                    comfortable to get about in for that reason – and no clamorous natives about. It
                    is so imposing up on its height, and has some characteristic features. The
                    evening light was delicious – and the views from that height – <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> went up again this evening to see
                    the moonlight effects. The <name type="boat">Columbia</name> has gone and 2 Cook
                    steamers are here – but everything is very quiet, and the peace and pure air
                    delicious after the noise and smells of <placeName ref="#Aswan"
                        >Assouan</placeName>. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950213" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Wednesday. Feb. 13. </title></p>
                <p>We are lying at <placeName ref="Silsilis">Silsilis</placeName> tonight, having
                    made 15 miles. We were too late to see much of the grottoes tonight. <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> intends getting up early tomorrow
                    to see the quarries on the other side of the river. I think them one of the most
                    impressive sights of the <geogName ref="#Nile">Nile</geogName>. This morning,
                    directly after breakfast we went up to the temple again, I took my camera, and
                    made some views. The <name type="boat">Isis</name> came up last evening – and is
                    lying tonight close by us. They have all been over to see us and <persName
                        ref="#Ware_Dr">Dr. Ware</persName> spent the evening with us. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950214" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Thursday. Feb. 14. Edfou </title></p>
                <p>We have had an intensely hot day – hotter than yesterday – and perfectly calm
                    (thermometer on deck in shade 86°) – so that we dropped down easily to
                        <placeName ref="Edfou">Edfou</placeName> – starting at 8:30 this morning,
                    and reaching <placeName ref="Edfou">Edfou</placeName> at 4 o’clock, making 26
                    miles. We waited awhile, as <pb n="34"/> it was too much to go out into the
                    fiery furnace of the afternoon. The <name type="boat">Isis</name> was before us,
                    as she started earlier than we did – and we found them all at the temple having
                    tea, which they had taken with them. <persName ref="Scott_Elliot_Miss">Miss
                        Scott-Elliot</persName> vigorously photographing with her elaborate machine
                    – and her sisters sketching. It was deliciously cool and interesting in that
                    noble temple. The town I horridly dirty – and I have never seen such a crowd of
                    besieging natives. The gens d’armes kept no sort of peace – and an ophthalmic
                    hospital might have been filled with the blind beggars. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950215" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Friday. Feb. 15. El Kab. </title></p>
                <p>In spite of a very strong north head wind, we made this place at 5 o’clock in the
                    afternoon – but were obliged to tie up on the opposite side of the river,
                    because of the wind – it has been banging and knocking us about in the most
                    pronounced manner I have ever known on the river. The <name type="boat"
                        >Isis</name> was close behind us – and most of her people, as well at
                        <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName>, crossed in the felucca to the
                    little new house at the <placeName ref="El_Kab">El Kab</placeName> landing,
                    which we had noticed on our way up, and which we were sure was occupied by
                        <persName ref="#Tylor_Mr">Mr. Tylor</persName>, or <persName
                        ref="#Somers_Clark_Mr">Mr. Somers-Clarke</persName>. They found the latter
                    there, busy with his excavations – and wearing the native dress. We will go over
                    tomorrow early, and make him a visit, and see the temple that he discovered, and
                    is now excavating. The north wind still raging – but much cooler. </p>
            </div>

            <pb n="35"/>
            <div xml:id="EBA18950216" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Saturday. Feb. 16th. </title></p>
                <p>We pulled across the river early this morning and directly after breakfast went
                    up to see <persName ref="#Somers_Clark_Mr">Mr. Somers-Clarke</persName>, whom we
                    found with his workmen, busy at his excavations. He is beginning to lay bare the
                    remains of a temple within the great inclosing walls of the ancient fortress.
                    Thee walls are built of mud bricks, and are of extraordinary thickness, - 37 ft.
                    wide, and of course are very ruinous – as the ancient city is supposed to have
                    existed under the Old Empire. <persName ref="#Somers_Clark_Mr">Mr.
                        Somers-Clarke</persName> discovered the site of the temple, which was not
                    known, and has made several trenches, which reveal certain limits, and the two
                    entrance portals – and the lines of walls. It would seem to be in a great mix –
                    that is newer buildings had been placed on the site of older ones – and the old
                    materials used for the new. Thus cartouches of <persName ref="Thotmes_II"
                        >Thotmes II</persName> and <persName ref="Thotmes_III">III</persName> – with
                    the good bas relief work and painting of that period, are found with the much
                    poorer work of much more recent periods. Fragments of columns – and bases of
                    painting and carved columns were seen – and ruined and mutilated statues. The
                    infiltration of <geogName ref="#Nile">Nile</geogName> water, with its
                    decomposing salts has made the stones almost into powder, and the work has to be
                    very carefully and slowly done. He had 12 workmen. He afterwards took us to his
                    house, where he showed us the plans of the temple so far as he had been able to
                    trace them. It was most interesting. He had had a mud house built in which he
                    lives, and indeed it is still building – that is quite a large vaulted room,
                    which is to serve as dining and living room is being completed. He has one room
                    for himself, another for his colleague, and a little court with <pb n="36"/>
                    kitchen and room for his 2 men. His own room had merely plastered walls, and a
                    sand floor spread upon a base of finely broken potsherds which form an excellent
                    drainage – and as he wear the native dress, with no stockings, and the big red
                    native shoes, which he kicks off as soon as he enters his house, and the sand is
                    pleasant enough – then when he wants a new carpet as he said, the sand is all
                    swept out, and fresh sand is brought in. His bed, working table, shelves for
                    books etc. were rather primitive, but he said he found it comfortable. It was
                    quite a revelation to see him in the native dress – he used always to be so
                    fastidiously dressed in white flannels and gaiters. He always wears glasses,
                    which now look so incongruous. He wears the complete dress – tarboosh, turban,
                    white vest and blue cotton dress. He finds it most comfortable he says – and the
                    only tolerable thing for his work, that it all goes into the wash tub every day.
                    The dust that excavating makes would be greatly trying to an European dress. We
                    were greatly entertained with him, his work and manner of living. He walked down
                    to the dahabeah with us and sat awhile. All the men were amazed to see him. We
                    got off by 11 o’clock, and reached <placeName ref="#Esneh">Esneh</placeName>
                    just at dark – making the 17-1/2 miles – though there was almost no wind. The
                        <name type="boat">Isis</name> preceeded us, making a very early start from
                        <placeName ref="El_Kab">El Kab</placeName>, and getting the benefit of the
                    good south wind that blew during the early morning. <persName ref="#Ware_Dr">Dr.
                        Ware</persName> came over this evening – they will have their bread early,
                    and will start for <placeName ref="#Luxor">Luxor</placeName> at 6 o’clock in the
                    morning, while we must wait all day tomorrow here for our baking. </p>
            </div>

            <pb n="37"/>
            <div xml:id="EBA18950217" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Sexagesima Sunday <lb/> Esneh. Feb. 17. </title></p>
                <p>It has been excessively hot all day – and I have not been off the boat – not
                    feeling well. <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> walked to the Temple this morning,
                    and this afternoon had some donkeys and rode into the country – falling with
                    some boys whom we met here before – and went with Alexander to his house for
                    some coffee – which visit they found quite interesting. The house large, and
                    modern – and well furnished. All the principal people in <placeName ref="#Esneh"
                        >Esneh</placeName> are Copts. The men of the family all came in to talk to
                    them – and were immensely dignified, well dressed men – all having just been to
                    church. The Egyptian part of <placeName ref="#Esneh">Esneh</placeName> is
                    indescribably dirty and horrid, like a great gray wasp’s nest – and not half as
                    clean. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950218" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Monday Feb. 18. Luxor </title></p>
                <p>Our bread was very late arriving this morning, and as a fine south wind was
                    blowing, we grew very impatient to get off, which we did not do until half past
                    nine. We had both sails up, and made such splendid progress, that we stayed on
                    deck all the time in spite of the heat. The thermometer at the hottest part of
                    the day, was at 86°. We were amazed to see the chimneys of <placeName
                        ref="#Erment">Erment</placeName>, and at 3:30 we were tied to the bank above
                    the Castle – the <name type="boat">Isis</name> being just around the corner on
                    the other side. We are lying at a very pretty bank – full of the blossoming
                    hummis, a kind of pea – with trees at the top – and a lovely view of the broad
                    river with the yellow desert and the mountains of the <pb n="38"/>
                    <placeName ref="#Tomb_of_the_Kings">Tombs of the Kings</placeName> – and all
                    that great ancient Necropolis. The <name type="boat">Ammon Ra</name>, Cooks
                    dahabeah, with the English people with the daughter ill with typhoid fever,
                    which we left here, is now moored on the opposite side of the river, with
                    quarantine flags on either side of her. She has now 2 cases of it, and below her
                    is a French dahabeah, also in quarantine with a case of typhoid. We
                    congratulated ourselves that we lie so far above them. <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> was talking to <persName
                        ref="#Ware_Dr">Dr. Ware</persName> this evening about them. We were having
                    tea on deck when <persName ref="#Wallace_Miss">Miss Wallace</persName> who had
                    been taking a row, came to see us – looking so much better. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950219" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Tuesday. Feb. 19. </title></p>
                <p>So hot today I only went for a little walk on the top of the bank – but very glad
                    to reach home again. <persName ref="#Wallace_Miss">Miss Wallace</persName> and
                        <persName ref="#Scott-Elliot_Mr_Mrs">Mr. and Mrs. Scott-Elliot</persName>
                    came to dine with us this evening – we had a charming dinner for them. They
                    think our boat vastly superior to theirs. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950220" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Wednesday. Feb. 20. </title></p>
                <p>I had a most delightful donkey ride this morning with <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> out to <placeName ref="#Karnak"
                        >Karnac</placeName>, where we did not stop, and along a high embankment near
                    the desert, and a long route home through the delicious green, green fields, the
                    barley just in head. Never was air so pure and fragrant. The wide valley here at
                        <placeName ref="#Luxor">Luxor</placeName> is highly cultivated, and almost
                    park like in effect. It was a great treat to me – and the first real donkey ride
                    I have had. <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> met the Uncle of
                    the typhoid English young lady this morning. He was seated near <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> at table when we were at <pb
                        n="39"/>
                    <placeName ref="#Cairo">Cairo</placeName>, and <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> found him very nice. He says that the 3 cases of fever
                    are supposed to have been caught on the Messageries steamer, on which they all
                    came over. But as they subsequently all stayed at the Continental in <placeName
                        ref="#Cairo">Cairo</placeName>, it is not easy to attach suspicion to the
                    right quarter. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950221" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Thursday. Feb. 21. </title></p>
                <p>At home all the morning. At 2:30 we crossed in the felucca to the other side for
                    a visit to <placeName ref="#Dar_el_Bahari">Der el Bahari</placeName>, which I
                    have not seen since the great excavations of the past two years. It was a rather
                    hot ride and hard one for me. We found the <name type="boat">Isis</name> people
                    already on the spot - photographing and sketching – of all the interesting
                    places at this point of the river –this most appeals to the imagination. The
                    unique position – the baldness of the conception of a mortuary chapel (for it is
                    now considered to be one, rather than a temple, just as the so called temple of
                    Goornah – the Ramesseum – and <placeName ref="#Medinet_Habou">Medinet
                        Habou</placeName>, are mortuary temples of the kings who built them).
                        <persName ref="#Naville_M">M. Naville</persName> under the auspices of the
                    Egypt Exploration Fun, has accomplished marvelous things – and still has an army
                    of work people digging at the lower terraces, and at the accumulated rubbish of
                    centuries that lies beneath the temple. A long colonnade resting against the
                    cliff has been laid bare – and the northern and southern colonnades at right
                    angles to this, with accompanying chapels and rooms, with brilliant paintings
                    and carvings – though these do not compare with the fineness and beauty of the
                    decorations of the terrace above built by <persName ref="#Hatshepsut">Queen
                            Hat-<pb n="40"/>shepshu</persName> – with it beautiful realistic
                    carvings which tell so plainly the story of the expedition to the land of Punt.
                        <persName ref="#Naville_M">M. Naville</persName> himself, who has built
                    himself a house near came and kindly told us much of it. A large portion of the
                    encumbering and defacing Coptic remains have been taken away, and some stone
                    forming a part of the Story of Punt have been found in the mass of debris, and
                    restored to their places. The colonnaded ruins now form a picturesque sight
                    resting against the bold yellow cliffs. Before long the terraces and approaches
                    will all be laid bare, and the ruin will form a spectacle to delight and
                    interest the world. It was quite dark as we came home in the felucca – only a
                    line of crimson yellow in the western sky, reflected in the water, and above it
                    brilliant and soft, Venus, casting a line of rippling silver across the water.
                </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950223" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Saturday. Feb. 23d. </title></p>
                <p>Home all day yesterday – quite used up with my expedition of yesterday. The
                        <persName ref="#Scott-Elliot_Miss">Misses Scott-Elliot</persName> came to
                    breakfast with <persName ref="#Ware_Dr">Dr. Ware</persName> – and after
                        <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> went for the whole day
                    at <placeName ref="#Karnac">Karnac</placeName> – <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> and I took <persName ref="#Ware_Dr">Dr. Ware</persName>
                    for an inspection of that certain crossing of the island to the <placeName
                        ref="#Tomb_of_the_Kings">Tombs of the Kings</placeName>, and afterwards met
                        <persName ref="#Scott_Elliot_Mr_Mrs">Miss and Mr. Scott-Elliot</persName>
                    and her brother and visited the <placeName ref="#Luxor">Luxor</placeName> temple
                    – there are now no workman there – all excavation having been stopped until the
                    mosque and another part of the town can be bought and taken down. It is
                    tantalizing to see a beautiful colossal face looking out from the accumulation
                    of ages, under one of the houses. Afterwards I went into the <placeName
                        ref="#Luxor">Luxor</placeName> hotel grounds, and <pb n="41"/> came across
                        <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName>, <persName
                        ref="#Ware_Dr">Dr. Ware</persName> and <placeName ref="#Scott_Elliot_">Mr.
                        Scott-Elliot</placeName> all partaking of lemonade in the big bar room, and
                    I was at once asked to join them, which I did, finding the lemonade uncommonly
                    nasty, and reminding me of that we used to have in our childish feasts, the
                    delight of which was that we made it ourselves. After tea in the afternoon,
                        <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and I went for a ride
                    over the richly cultivated plains back of <placeName ref="#Luxor"
                        >Luxor</placeName>. I had a new donkey – having declined my hard little
                    beast I have been riding and he proved delightful – his name was I was told at
                    first California, shortly it changed to Ohio, and at last proved to be Gazelle.
                    Such an entrancing ride along the high banks raised like huge interesting walls
                    about the country – bordering the deep canals most of them now quite dry – mile
                    upon miles of barley and wheat field just coming into full head – and in the
                    light of the declining sun, forming a light green shimmering sheen on every side
                    – interested by villages under their pale and scent trees – the blue smoke of
                    their evening fires in a level line above them – flocks and herds in the fields
                    – laborers going home from their work – and the air fresh and fragrant after the
                    hot day. In some places where we went along the little paths through the fields,
                    the barley was higher than my donkey – and as we came home along the river bank,
                    the crimson yellow inset line and the brilliant Venus – and all reflected in the
                    darkening river. I am quite sure I should tire very much of living in such an
                    unchanging climate. Nothing but the exigencies of ill health could make me
                    contented with an unfailing cloudless sky – unreasonable as it sounds. Yet we
                    can be truly thankful this winter for it, when all the civilized <pb n="42"/>
                    world of Europe and America is fast bound in ice and cold. The severity of the
                    storm we read of in our paper and letters is quite appalling – while one
                    thermometer during the day on deck in the shade ranges from 80 to 88 – though
                    the night are cold – night before last after a very hot day, it was 45 at 7
                    o’clock in the morning. The radiation is so very rapid under this absolutely
                    cloudless sky. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950224" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Sunday – Qunquagesima <lb/> Luxor – Feb. 24. </title></p>
                <p>A very hot day. The rest crossed the river at <placeName ref="#Medinet_Habou"
                        >Medinet Habou</placeName> this morning – returning to lunch, - then again
                    in the afternoon to <placeName ref="#Dar_el_Bahari">Der el Bahari</placeName> –
                    I did not feel up to either of these excursions – but went down to <placeName
                        ref="#Karnac">Karnac</placeName> at 4 o’clock in the felucca, with one,
                    where our donkeys had been sent, and spent an hour and a half there, riding home
                    around the town the long way – which was very pleasant. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950225" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Monday. Feb. 25. </title></p>
                <p>I rode into the town this morning, while <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName>, <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName>
                    and <persName ref="#Ware_Dr">Dr. Ware</persName> walked to Mohammed Mohassibs –
                    where we spent an hour or two talking to the old man and looking at his things.
                        <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> bought two or three
                    pretty things – <persName ref="#Mohassib_Mohammed">Mohassib</persName> presented
                    us all with parting souvenirs – and we said a prolonged and quite an
                    affectionate goodbye. Before we started on our walk this morning we had the two
                    little arab sisters, who when we were in <placeName ref="#Luxor"
                        >Luxor</placeName> on our way up, moored at the gezireh on the other side of
                    the river, used to come every day with their father, who <pb n="43"/> looked
                    after our fowls and sheep. They were such pretty children, with the most
                    impossible garments in rags hanging about them – the older one with a bad cough.
                    I used to watch the younger one, who was a perfect beauty of roundness and
                    grace, as she played with the wind and in the water, with the grace and natural
                    abandonment of a young animal – and I told <persName ref="#Selim"
                        >Selim</persName> to tell the father to go over to <placeName ref="#Luxor"
                        >Luxor</placeName> and buy each of them a dress and a pair of drawer, and I
                    would pay for them. So the day after they came immensely proud and grateful to
                    show their new clothes – a dark blue cotton dress, with an undergarment, and a
                    thin beflowered blue cloth veil – in all of which they were not half so
                    picturesque but much more comfortable. After we had been in <placeName
                        ref="#Luxor">Luxor</placeName> this time four or five days, they discovered
                    us, and appeared – their new clothes very much toned down by dirt and use. I
                    gave the older child a flannel under shirt of mine, that was so shrunken I could
                    not wear it, and she immediately retired into the depths of the wheat field at
                    the top of the bank, and put it on, in all this unbearable heat – and although
                    she never had worn anything so thick and warm, she persisted in keeping it on.
                    We had them on deck – to their great delight – and gave them some oranges and
                    sweets to carry away with them – the older girl was remarkably pretty – with
                    perfect teeth, and the sweetest smile and her delight in everything she saw, was
                    touching. She patted the rugs on which she sat, gazing about and saying softly
                    to herself quies-quies (pretty). Then we made them stand in the sun and
                    photographed them - and we had my <persName ref="#Salah_Mohammed"
                        >Mohammed</persName> and <persName ref="#Hassan">Hassan</persName> move the
                    big hooded chair into the sun, and she sat by me in it, and <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> photographed us – altogether <pb
                        n="44"/> they had a beautiful spree – and when we came back from town, and
                    word was given to start, and they saw preparations made, they came on deck to
                    say goodbye, the older girl could not restrain her tears – and I felt quite
                    broken myself, and almost wanted to carry her away with me – she was not more
                    than 8. We got away at 1 o’clock, very glad to be moving in all that heat – the
                        <name type="boat">Isis</name> came on directly behind us – the afternoon was
                    calm, or with a flutter of South wind – and we easily made 24 miles before
                    pulling up for the night. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950226" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Tuesday. Feb. 26. </title></p>
                <p>With a light south wind this morning we started at 6 o’clock and made 20 miles to
                        <placeName ref="#Keneh">Keneh</placeName> by 10 o’clock. We stopped at the
                        <placeName ref="#Keneh">Keneh</placeName> landing and <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> rode into the town on a vain quest
                    for interesting antiquities – while <persName ref="#Jones_Daniel"
                        >Jones</persName> and <persName ref="#Selim">Selim</persName> went for
                    provisions. Then we pulled over to Denderah where the <name type="boat"
                        >Isis</name> was, and everybody went except myself to see the temple. The
                    heat was too great for me – and I never find that temple very interesting. We
                    went off, leaving the <name type="boat">Isis</name>, at 6 o’clock – but only
                    made a short distance as the wind was against us. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950227" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Wednesday. Feb. 27. </title></p>
                <p>Started in a dead calm at 7 am and have made 42 miles – passing <placeName
                        ref="#Dishneh">Dishneh</placeName>, Kaar as Said, <placeName ref="#Farshout"
                        >Farshout</placeName>, and are now lying about 4 miles below <placeName
                        ref="#Farshout">Farshout</placeName> – the <name type="boat">Isis</name>
                    behind us. Very hot all day – it has been impossible to do anything. Thermometer
                    in shade on deck has been up to 94 – the night very warm and still – the little
                    new moon, and Venus per-<pb n="45"/>fectly reflected in the glassy water. We
                    find the only way to keep tolerably comfortable is to close the windows in the
                    morning early, as soon as the servants have finished cleaning, shutters, blinds
                    and all – and possibly the canvass over them – and I am pleased to find how cool
                    the boat can be kept – but the heat is very trying – and I almost feel as if I
                    were again living in Ohio, during the summer. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950228" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Feb. 28. Thursday. </title></p>
                <p>Started at 8:30 this morning – very hot and still – and made <placeName
                        ref="#Balliana">Balliana</placeName> at 1 o’clock – 14 miles. Too late to
                    attempt <placeName ref="Adydos">Abydos</placeName>. The <name type="boat"
                        >Isis</name> people are waiting until tomorrow too, for the expedition. But
                    we are feeling a little doubtful tonight about it – as the heat has been extreme
                    – 99 on deck this afternoon, under the awning – <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> and <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName>
                    walked down to the <name type="boat">Isis</name> – but I preferred the clean
                    quiet deck – at 6 o’clock the thermometer was still at 80 – and <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> has wisely announced that unless a
                    cool north wind blows in the morning, he will start down. I shall be sorry not
                    to see that beautiful Temple – and to miss that ride through the pleasant
                    country – but it is a long one – 9 miles out. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950301" type="Entry">
                <p><title>March 1st. Friday. </title></p>
                <p>The morning dawned hot and still – and <placeName ref="Adydos">Abydos</placeName>
                    was impossible. So we started at 8:30 as we passed the <name type="boat"
                        >Isis</name>, Mr. Scott-Elliot called out to <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> that all their party excepting his wife and himself had
                    made a very early start for <placeName ref="Adydos">Abydos</placeName> – and
                    would spend the day there – <pb n="46"/> returning as late as possible. The day
                    has been insufferably hot – thermometer was 99 on deck at 3pm – afterwards a
                    very refreshing little wind from the north came to our relief – and we made
                    Menshieh at 6 o’clock – and tied up at a clean sand bank opposite the town, and
                    went for a little walk. Made today 20 miles. Ramadan began a few days ago –and
                    the first day was strictly kept by both our Captains, and one or two of our
                    crew. Old <persName ref="#Selim">Salim</persName>, the cook, of course keeps it,
                    being a Mohammedan of the strictest sect. Our coleric old <persName
                        ref="#Mohammed_Rais">Rais Mohammed</persName>, with his childish nature, was
                    the picture of woe during the day – and unusually irascible with the sailors –
                    and gradually as the day wore on, he accumulated at a little corner at the head
                    of the gang way where he always stands or sits, two dishes with covers,
                    containing food – a batch of some kind of a pickle of which they are enormously
                    fond, a pile of dried dates, and his cigarette case – he hovered over these from
                    time to time, and finally sat flat down upon the deck, tumbled his tobacco into
                    his lap, and began making cigarettes. He was such a funny picture of the
                    commanding officer of a vessel, with his bare feet sticking out from his robe.
                    Finally the sun went down – and they had something to eat, and a smoke, and
                    things were more serene. It is really hard on the working people – a day with
                    nothing to eat or to smoke from sunset to sunrise. My donkey boy in <placeName
                        ref="#Luxor">Luxor</placeName> was bewailing one day that Ramadan began the
                    next day – he said “no eat – no smoke – no cigarettes – no water – no
                    everything”. Their habit too of eating enormously after the fast of the day –
                    and keeping awake to eat most of the night, upsets them sadly – and makes one
                    wish to try and reason with them. Our <pb n="47"/> people, however, are not
                    hurting themselves – and the fast was given up after the second day. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950302" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Saturday. March 2. </title></p>
                <p>A cool, light north wind was blowing this morning. Started at 7 and made
                        <placeName ref="#Akmim">Akmim</placeName> at noon – where we stopped, and
                    sent into town on a vain search for the antiquity dealer of last year – he was
                    not to be found however. We tried rowing for awhile but the north wind was too
                    strong – and sunset found us anchored in the stream just below the town – then
                    the wind falling a little, our Rais ventured again, but we got into a very
                    difficult place – and finally put up the sail and sailed up the river for half a
                    mile, and anchored to a sand bank. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950303" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Sunday. March 3. First Sunday in Lent. </title></p>
                <p>A cold north wind blowing all day – most refreshing – it grew so strong that we
                    made only 3 miles – stopping all day at <placeName ref="#Sohag"
                        >Sohag</placeName>. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950304" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Monday. March 4. </title></p>
                <p>We have made a splendid run of 64 miles today – and are now lying about 4 miles
                    from <placeName ref="#Asyut">Assiout</placeName> – have passed <placeName
                        ref="#Tahtah">Tahtah</placeName> – <placeName ref="#Gaou">Gaou</placeName>
                    and <placeName ref="#Aboutig">Aboutig</placeName>. The morning was exquisite – I
                    went on deck immediately after breakfast – and was there most of the day.
                    Nothing could be more lovely than that morning effects – the cliffs a pink
                    yellow, with heliotrope shadows sleeping in their hollows. – the water, silverly
                    pink, reflecting every object. </p>
            </div>

            <pb n="48"/>
            <div xml:id="EBA18950305" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Tuesday. March 5. </title></p>
                <p>We were at <placeName ref="#Asyut">Assiout</placeName> early – and landed for our
                    mail, and some provisions. Met all the <name type="boat">Isis</name> people in
                    the bazaar – nothing seemed nice in <placeName ref="#Asyut">Assiout</placeName>
                    today – but the smell of orange blossoms as we passed the big garden – and we
                    were glad to be back on the boat again. We are at <placeName ref="#Manfalout"
                        >Manfalout</placeName> – and have made 26 miles. The day intensely hot – 84
                    in the saloon early this afternoon – I went out so early, that I did not
                    superintend the closing of the windows – the only effective way of keeping the
                    boat cool. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950306" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Wednesday. March 6. </title></p>
                <p>We are still lying at <placeName ref="#Manfalout">Manfalout</placeName> – but
                    have moved across the river, and are anchored near a sandy beach. We found the
                    bank at which we lay last night, very muddy – the <geogName ref="#Nile"
                        >Nile</geogName> having lately left it – and the rank smell that came from
                    it most disagreeable, and I am sure unhealthy. We have a lovely air tonight, the
                    north wind which has been blowing a gale all day, and prevented our moving, has
                    moderated, and is very sweet, soft and fresh. All the <name type="boat"
                        >Isis</name> people over here this morning. It has seemed a long day – so
                    hot – and under the necessity of lying quietly by. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950307" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Thursday. March 7. </title></p>
                <p>A north wind all day – but we have managed to make 25 miles – passing the big
                        <geogName ref="#Aboufoydah">Aboufoydah</geogName> chain. We overtook the
                        <name type="boat">Isis</name> early in the day – and were also in company
                    with the London, a dahabeah whose people <pb n="49"/> had left her at <placeName
                        ref="#Girgeh">Girgeh</placeName> – and she was making her way down to
                        <placeName ref="#Cairo">Cairo</placeName> – closed and shrouded in her
                    canvass coverings. Late this afternoon as we sat on deck, she being very close
                    to us, we heard shouts proceeding from a working boat that was coming up the
                    river – and some excited talk between the two crews – on the working boat was a
                    dragoman, with servant, who (as we learned) called out to the Rais of the
                    London, that he was wanted by a gentleman to go to <placeName ref="#Aswan"
                        >Assouan</placeName>, that he would arrive by train tomorrow, and that he
                    (the Dragoman) had orders to engage her for two months. They at once put up
                    their oars – and unfurled their sails – and made for the shore, where the
                    Dragoman was landing. It was such a sudden and unexpected change for the men –
                    and they were so delighted with another engagement of 2 months – for at this
                    time of the year they are generally falling out of work. There were many
                    congratulations called out to them from our boat. This morning as the Postal
                    Steamer <name type="boat">Hatasou</name> passed us quite close, we saw <persName
                        ref="#Lapsley_Mr">Mr. Lapsley</persName> who was waving to us, and staring
                    at us through his glasses. We are within two or three miles of <placeName
                        ref="Haji_Kandeel">Haji Kandeel</placeName> – the station for <placeName
                        ref="Tel_el_Amarna">Tel el-Amarna</placeName> – which we intend visiting
                    tomorrow. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950308" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Friday. March 8th. </title></p>
                <p>A heavy north wind blowing all the morning. In the afternoon floating and rowing
                    we reached <placeName ref="Haji_Kandeel">Haji Kandeel</placeName> about 4
                    o’clock. A very noisy unpromising crowd of natives gathered on the shore – and
                    such a vociferation went on, I was forced to come below, to get away from them.
                        <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> walked about on shore. The <name
                        type="boat">Isis</name> having come <pb n="50"/> up with us this evening,
                        <persName ref="#Ware_Dr">Dr. Ware</persName> came over, and we all had a
                    game of domino whist. We are all to go to the <placeName ref="Tel_el_Amarna">Tel
                        el-Amarna</placeName> tombs tomorrow. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950309" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Saturday. March 9th. </title></p>
                <p>The day dawned very gray and cold – high wind – having taken cold a day or two
                    ago, I wisely decided to stay in the boat. A still more noisy, rude and
                    vociferous crowd, with their donkeys about the boat, and the choice of the
                    latter was not difficult, when all were so poor and jaded. They came back about
                    11 o’clock having seen part of the grottoes or tomb – and very tired of their
                    poor donkeys. The guides did not know anything about the grottoes – and instead
                    of going to the North, which are the best, and seeing the tomb of <persName
                        ref="#Amenophis_IV">Amenophis IV</persName> or <persName ref="#Akhenaten"
                        >Khuenaten</persName>, they had only gone to the south – and missed the
                    rest. <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName>’s donkey fell with
                    her, and gave her quite a shock. We came away from that noisy shore at once, but
                    the north wind was so strong, that after struggling against it for half an hour,
                    we took refuge at the end of a sand bank, opposite and a little way blow, the
                        <name type="boat">Isis</name>, and anchored strongly – the water rushing in
                    real waves past us – and the sand flying furiously and her we are for the night
                    I suppose – as, although there is a full moon – there is little prospect of the
                    wind dying out. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950310" type="Entry">
                <p><title>2nd Sunday in Lent. March 10. </title></p>
                <p>A great gale has prevailed all day – we have not stirred from our moorings –
                    except as we are battered about by the wind. We rowed <pb n="51"/> until 3
                    o’clock am last night – and our men are having a good rest today. My cold very
                    bad – indoors all day. <persName ref="#Ware_Dr">Dr. Ware</persName> came over to
                    lunch – 20 miles. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950311" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Monday. March 11th. </title></p>
                <p>We started at 6 o’clock this morning, and in spite of a north wind, we reached
                        <placeName ref="#Beni_Hasan">Beni Hasan</placeName> at 10 o’clock. The
                    morning was very gray, the first gray day of the winter – and so cool that I did
                    not venture out to the tombs with <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> and <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette"
                    >Nettie</persName>. We were off at one o’clock and reached <placeName
                        ref="Miniyeh">Minieh</placeName> at 10 P.M. making 25 -1/2 miles. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950312" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Tuesday. March 12. </title></p>
                <p>The north wind not quite so strong today. <persName ref="#Jones_Daniel"
                        >Jones</persName> went into the town immediately after breakfast and got our
                    mail – then we were off – and brought up about 3 o’clock within 5 miles of
                        <placeName ref="#Abou_Girgeh">Abou Girgeh</placeName>. The moon rose tonight
                    about 8 – splendid and big with a yellow light that was really reflected on the
                    sky about her. We have made 30 miles. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950313" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Wednesday. March 13. </title></p>
                <p>We have made a fine run of 43 miles today - and are now at <placeName
                        ref="#Bibeh">Bibeh</placeName> - and about half way between <placeName
                        ref="Feshu">Feshu</placeName> and <placeName ref="#Benisoef">Beni
                        Soef</placeName>. The day beautiful and calm and warm. I was a great deal on
                    deck. The night a repetition of last night - full, resplendent moon - and very
                    calm. </p>
            </div>

            <pb n="52"/>
            <div xml:id="EBA18950314" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Thursday. March 14. </title></p>
                <p> The day has been very hot - I was on deck in the morning until the northwind
                    grew too strong - have passed <placeName ref="#Benisoef">Benisoef</placeName>
                    and <placeName ref="#Wasta">Wasta</placeName>, and made 38 miles - and have
                    pulled up at <placeName ref="#Rikkeh">Rikkeh</placeName>. The splendid
                        <placeName ref="#Meidum">Meydoum</placeName> pyramid has been in sight all
                    the afternoon. The wind is raging tonight. The <name type="boat">Isis</name> is
                    just ahead of us. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950315" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Friday. March 15. </title></p>
                <p>We haven’t stirred today – as the north wind is still howling and knocking us
                    about. I couldn’t sleep last night because of the racket – and when about 2
                    o’clock on or our cables parted at the stern and we swung about in the stream,
                    rolling from side to side as if we were at sea, I was almost alarmed. There was
                    a great row about it. <persName ref="#Wallace_Miss">Miss Wallace</persName> and
                        <persName ref="#Ware_Dr">Dr. Ware</persName> came to lunch – and we are able
                    to go over and dine with them this evening. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950316" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Saturday. March 16. </title></p>
                <p>We have just pulled up to the bank at <placeName ref="#Bedraheya"
                        >Bedraheya</placeName> – after a wearing row from 6 o’clock, until 8:30
                    tonight. Our poor men are very tired – but as cheerful as possible. We have made
                    34 miles – in the face of a strong north wind that has not abated for one
                    minute. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950317" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Sunday. March 17. <lb/> 3d Sunday in Lent. </title></p>
                <p>The <name type="boat">Isis</name> appeared early this morning – landing just in
                    front <pb n="53"/> of us – and we all started for <placeName ref="#Saqqara"
                        >Sakkarah</placeName> soon after breakfast – I however only getting as far
                    as <placeName ref="#Memphis">Memphis</placeName> – where the temple lie, that we
                    saw excavated last time we were here. The wind was very strong – and increased
                    with the day – blinding clouds of dust and sand. The rest arrived at 4 o’clock –
                    complaining much of the wind and dust. We cannot of course get away while this
                    wind holds. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950318" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Monday. March 18. </title></p>
                <p>Still lying at <placeName ref="Bedrasheyn">Bedrasheyn</placeName> tossed about by
                    the wind. The <name type="boat">Isis</name> people, whose lease has expired
                    today, telegraphed to Cook for a tug and went off triumphantly just at dusk.
                </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950319" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Ghizeh. March 19. </title></p>
                <p>To our great joy the wind fell last night suddenly about 12 o’clock. We were off
                    at once, and our men easily made the 12 miles here by 3 o’clock – and when we
                    got up we found ourselves just behind the <name type="boat">Isis</name> – who it
                    seems only got in two hours before us, the tug having broken down when they had
                    made about 5 miles. They left the boat immediately after breakfast, and went out
                    ot the Mena House where they will stay sometime – and the <name type="boat"
                        >Isis</name> at once turned out into the stream and made for the Cook
                    landing at <placeName ref="#Cairo">Cairo</placeName> looking very deserted to
                    us. <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> went into <placeName
                        ref="#Cairo">Cairo</placeName> this morning on his donkey – to see about our
                    rooms at Shepheards – and to get our mail. <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette"
                        >Nettie</persName> and I went over to the Museum –and I saw for the first
                    time the wonderfully interesting and beautiful things found within the past few
                    months at <placeName ref="Dahshur">Dahshour</placeName>. The <pb n="54"/>
                    exquisite jewelry – the wooden statue, of <persName ref="Hor">King
                        Hor</persName>, and his sentry box in which the statue was enclosed – the
                    sarcophagi – and the extraordinary group of soldiers – in 2 groups – of 40 each
                    – the figures about a foot high – and executed in the most life like manner –
                    one company of Egyptians, and the other of Soudanese – it is extraordinary work
                    for the 12th Dynasty. As we were coming out of the Museum, we saw <persName
                        ref="#Parsons_Mary">Mary Parsons</persName>, whom <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> had hoped to see at Shepheards.
                        <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> brought a great bunch of
                    letters and papers – and after lunch we all went again over to the Museum. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950320" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Wednesday, March 20. </title></p>
                <p><persName ref="#Parsons_Mary">Mary Parsons</persName> and <persName
                        ref="Crane_Miss">Miss Crane</persName> appeared quite early this morning –
                    and were quite interested in going over the dahabeah. When they had gone, we
                    stared out to the Pyramids, <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName>
                    and <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> on their donkeys – and I
                    in the bid landau with <persName ref="#Mohammed_Salah">Mahommed</persName> on
                    the box – we were just in time for lunch with the <name type="boat">Isis</name>
                    people – and afterwards <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and
                        <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> went over to the
                    Pyramids – while I sat on the terrace and waited - and was bored, and devoured
                    with flies – and the day was very blustering and like a March day at home – so
                    that driving back I had the top of the carriage raised, and wrapped myself in my
                    big cloak. <persName ref="#Parsons_Mary">Mary Parsons</persName> came to dine
                    and pass the night, and she is much delighted with our life on board. Our men
                    gave one of their best concerts and did some dancing, and we sat on deck,
                    enclosed by the awnings with the lanterns lighted, until we were forced to go
                    below by the chill night air. Tomorrow begins the unpleasant work of dismantling
                    – settling with the <pb n="55"/> men and leaving the boat – which in spite of my
                    great joy and satisfaction in finishing this <geogName ref="#Nile"
                        >Nile</geogName> journey, still has an element of sadness in it – for after
                    all, this <name type="boat">Herodotus</name> has been our home for 2 winters.
                </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950321" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Thursday. March 21st. <lb/> Cairo – Shepheards Hotel </title></p>
                <p>We came across the river and down to <placeName ref="#Cairo">Cairo</placeName>
                    directly after breakfast. <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName>
                    took Mary ashore, and goes to the bazaar with her and Miss Crane – and <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> and I, with <persName
                        ref="#Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName>, pitched into the business of packing –
                    our pretty adornments and personal things were soon hauled down from the walls,
                    and when <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> came back to lunch
                    he found a dismantled boat, and stumbled everywhere over trunks and boxes. After
                    lunch, I sat down to write references for such of the men that we give them to,
                    that is the Captains, 2 indoor men and cook – and <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> began piling up various little
                    heaps of gold, intended for baksheesh for every body. The first Captain,
                        <persName ref="#Mohammed_Rais">Reis Mohammed</persName> got six pounds – our
                    favorite <persName ref="#Fuli_Rais">Reis Fule</persName>, 2 – Capt. Got 4 pounds
                    – the cook <persName ref="#Selim">Salim</persName> 10 pounds – and each sailor 1
                    pound. This baksheesh business is always an uncertain affair – depending
                    entirely on the generosity of the person who hires the dahabeah – and has
                    nothing whatever to do with the regular wages of the men. There is always great
                    expectancy on their part, and very often no doubt, great disappointment. About 4
                    o’clock, all these affairs having been wound up, we bade a warm farewell to all,
                    and departed for Shepheards – where we are now most comfortably installed in the
                    same <pb n="56"/> apartment we had in December. But what an age ago that seems!
                </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950328" type="Entry">
                <p><title>S.S. Singapore, Rubitimo Line <lb/> Alexandria. March 28. </title></p>
                <p>Although we should have sailed this morning at 10 o’clock, we are still tied
                    strongly to the dock, with the wind blowing a furious gale, and making it
                    impossible to put to sea. We left <placeName ref="#Cairo">Cairo</placeName>
                    yesterday afternoon at 4 o’clock – and spent last night at the Khedivial Hotel.
                    We had six days in <placeName ref="#Cairo">Cairo</placeName>, which we used to
                    the best advantage we could. I went over to the Bazaar once – and once again to
                    the Museum, where I saw the 9 wonderful statues of one of the <persName
                        ref="#Usertesen">Usertesens</persName>, found at <placeName ref="#Lisht"
                        >Lisht</placeName>, and the beautiful statue in basalt of <persName
                        ref="#Osiris">Osiris</persName>, found at <placeName ref="#Medinet_Habou"
                        >Medinet Habou</placeName>. One afternoon <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> and I drove to the Gezireh Hotel which I had not seen,
                    and called on the <name type="boat">Isis</name> people. It is quite magnificent
                    – there can be no other quite so splendid – as it was the favorite palace of the
                    old <persName ref="#Ismail_Pasha">Ismail Pacha</persName>, who was buried the
                    other day in <placeName ref="#Cairo">Cairo</placeName>. On this palace he
                    lavished millions – and I can well believe it. The extensive grounds are very
                    beautiful and highly cultivated. We walked around to the Casino, and had tea on
                    the terrace, where there was a gay throng of every nationality. The air was full
                    of the fragrance of orange blossoms. I had one other little drive one afternoon,
                    but that was all, as the wind blew violently every day, and the dust was
                    omnipresent. <persName ref="#Parsons_Mary">Mary Parsons</persName> and the three
                    ladies she was travelling with (among them <persName ref="Gifford_Miss">Miss
                        Gifford</persName>, aunt of <persName ref="Gifford_Edie">Edie Gifford of
                        Milwaukie</persName>, and a very sweet attractive woman) were at Shepheards,
                    and on their way to <country ref="#Syria">Syria</country>. <persName
                        ref="#Parsons_Mary">Mary</persName>
                    <pb n="57"/> was so unwell, and unfit for uncertain Syrian travel, that it was
                    thought best she should join our party and return home with us – which to our
                    great pleasure she did. We used to spend hours at the carpet bazaar of Madjar’s
                    next the hotel – a most curious, delightful and original little old goose it has
                    ever been my pleasure to meet. <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> bought some lovely things of him, and the bargaining
                    between the two, used to be a thing to hear. Much of our time was spent in the
                    effort to arrange a method of studying English for our 2 faithful Mahommedan
                    boys, <persName ref="#Salah_Mohammed">Mahomet</persName> and <persName
                        ref="#Hasan">Hassan</persName> – and an arrangement was finally made with
                    the head of the American Mission School, to provide them with a private tutor
                    for one hour each day, a shilling an hour – for, as they know nothing of study
                    or application it would be impossible for them to go into a school – and we want
                    and they are very anxious to learn to speak English – as it improves their
                    chances as sailors, and for everything. <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> arranged to give them a pound a month for their living
                    expenses – and they were to get a little room somewhere and live in it. We
                    bought them some new clothes – gave them 2 table sand chairs we had had on the
                    dahabeah, a big straw mat for the floor, and a big red thick blanket – towels –
                    candles and candle-stick. Yossen our young Arab Copy friend, who is in business
                    in <placeName ref="#Cairo">Cairo</placeName> is to have a friendly eye over them
                    – and Mr. Bachelor the Manager of Shepheards received the money from <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName>, with exact written directions,
                    and kindly offered to give it to the boy on their monthly application – so that
                    we left them in very good shape. <persName ref="#Ware_Dr">Dr. Ware</persName>
                    came to luncheon on our last day, and all the <name type="boat">Isis</name>
                    people to tea the afternoon before. <persName ref="#Salah_Mohammed"
                        >Mahomet</persName>
                    <pb n="58"/> and <persName ref="#Hassan">Hassan</persName> were with us most of
                    the time, and at the station we found <persName ref="#Abbecatio"
                        >Abbecatio</persName> and old <persName ref="#Selim">Selim</persName> – and
                    the last thing we saw as the train moved off, was our 2 poor boys looking bereft
                    and distressed. We are rather pleased with the look of this boat – but have
                    always avoided this line, it was a necessity however, as we could not get into
                    any other boat sailing about this time. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950407" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Hotel, Grand Bretagne. <lb/> Florence, April 7th. Palm Sunday.
                    </title></p>
                <p>We have passed many an uncomfortable hour since I last made an entry in this
                    journal. We got off from <placeName ref="#Alexandria">Alexandria</placeName> the
                    morning after but soon after sailing lost one of the sailors overboard, who
                    fortunately was able to swim and get onto a buoy – a small boat with 6 men was
                    sent out to him in the heavy sea, and was capsized, and had it not been for 2
                    pilot boats in the neighborhood, who went to their assistance, all the 7 could
                    have been lost. It was more than 3 hours before we got them on board, during
                    which time we lay at anchor, tossing and rolling. The <name type="boat"
                        >Singapore</name> proved to be very slow, very dirty – badly officered – bad
                    food – and a noisy lot of Germans and Italians – and I thought the days and
                    particularly, the nights would never end. On the first of April we arrived at
                        <placeName ref="#Messina">Messina</placeName>, where we stayed 12 hours. We
                    went ashore and drove about the rather uninteresting Italian town – the dust and
                    wind being the principal factors. The next morning we were at <placeName
                        ref="#Naples">Naples</placeName>, where the boat was to stay 40 hours – and
                    we delightfully made preparations to spend the day and night on shore. We drove
                    to the Grand Hotel, which <pb n="59"/> we found overflowing with people – and
                    were obliged to go up to the Wet End where we got very pleasant rooms. But the
                    weather was cold, wind high, and a thick atmosphere – and Vesuvius quite
                    invisible. I was not well during the night, and the next morning when Jone
                    appeared from the <name type="boat">Singapore</name>, saying she would not leave
                    until sometime in the night, and would take 24 hours to <placeName
                        ref="#Leghorn">Leghorn</placeName>, where we had expected to leave her, we
                    held solemn council and decided to go directly by rail to <placeName
                        ref="#Florence">Florence</placeName>. So <persName ref="#Jones_Daniel"
                        >Jones</persName> was sent back to the boat to pack and bring away our
                    trunks, and <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> went off to
                    secure a compartment in the night train to <placeName ref="#Rome"
                        >Rome</placeName>, and the Dr. was sent for to see me and say if I was fit
                    to start, and the upshot of the whole thing was, that we had a very comfortable
                    night on the train arriving in Rome at 6:30am. We drove to the Quirinal Hotel o
                    short a distance off, and had a good wash, followed by a delicious breakfast in
                    the restaurant, and were off to <placeName ref="#Florence">Florence</placeName>
                    at 8:30 – reaching there at 2:30. The town is very, very full – and we had some
                    difficulty about the number of our rooms – but are not quite pleasantly settled.
                    Yesterday morning <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName>, <persName
                        ref="#Parsons_Mary">Mary</persName> and I went to the Uffizzi – <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> not being well enough to go with
                    us. <persName ref="#Baldwin_Dr">Dr. Baldwin</persName> and <persName
                        ref="#Berenson_Mr">Mr. Berenson</persName> came to tea yesterday in the
                    afternoon – and directly after lunch today <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName>, <persName ref="#Parsons_Mary">Mary</persName> and I
                    drove to Fiesole, and out over the Mts. <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> went off by himself this morning to the Pitti –
                        <persName ref="#Parsons_Mary">Mary</persName> to church – and I stayed home
                    with <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName>, who though better is
                    still weak – but there is now no danger of any fever, as we feared at first
                    there might be. The <persName ref="#Shaw_Quincy">Quincy Shaws of
                        Boston</persName>, with <persName ref="#Agassiz_Louis">Mrs. Louis
                        Agassiz</persName> are in this hotel, and <persName ref="#Shaw_Miss">Miss
                        Shaw</persName> and <persName ref="#Agassiz_Mrs">Mrs. Agassiz</persName>
                    came to <pb n="60"/> tea yesterday afternoon. We met the <persName
                        ref="#Bronson_Mr_Mrs">Bronsons</persName> yesterday driving – and Mrs. B.
                    called today. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950410" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Wednesday. April 10. </title></p>
                <p>We are all ready to leave this delicious <placeName ref="#Florence"
                        >Florence</placeName> tomorrow – though we do it very unwillingly – but our
                    time is short, and beautiful and interesting things so crowd upon one here, that
                    choice is difficult. We have arranged a little driving tour with <persName
                        ref="#Berenson_Mr">Mr. Berenson</persName> who will go with us – and will
                    start tomorrow for Sienna. The Dr. thinks <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette"
                        >Nettie</persName> can now safely venture. We have had some delicious drives
                    and walks – and visits to galleries and churches. Among the things I had never
                    before seen were the frescoes by <persName ref="#Gozzoli_Benozzo">Benozzo
                        Gozzoli</persName> in the chapel of the Riccardi palace – which I knew and
                    admired greatly from my photographs of them – that the dark, irregularly shaped
                    little chapel was a surprising disappointment to me – though the frescoes were
                    not. One afternoon <persName ref="#Berenson_Mr">Mr. Berenson</persName> took us
                    to see the new <persName ref="#Boticelli">Boticelli</persName> which has lately
                    been discovered in the Pitti palace. It seems that an old gentleman who knew all
                    about pictures, went one day to call on the Duke of Aosta in his apartment at
                    the Pitti and being left to cool his heels sometime in the antechamber, noticed
                    high up in a dark corner a picture which he thought in the <persName
                        ref="#Boticelli">Boticelli</persName> style and knowing that a certain
                    painting of his known once to have existed was now lost, he went to the director
                    of the Museum and told him what he had seen. The result was that the picture was
                    removed to one of the private rooms of the Uffizzi –and the world has found a
                    new art treasure – though it was not the picture <pb n="61"/> that had been
                    searched for so long – and no one at the present time knew that <persName
                        ref="#Boticelli">Boticelli</persName> had painted such a picture as this. It
                    is a picture of a woman charmingly painted in <persName ref="#Boticelli"
                        >Boticelli</persName>’s best manner, standing by a centaur. <persName
                        ref="#Berenson_Mr">Mr. Berenson</persName> has written a pamphlet on the
                    subject, which I hope soon to see. It is not yet exhibited to the public, and we
                    saw it only through <persName ref="#Berenson_Mr">Mr. Berenson</persName>. We
                    took <persName ref="#Fearing_Mrs">Mrs. Fearing</persName> with us – and she went
                    with us to some of the galleries. There are so many Americans in <placeName
                        ref="#Florence">Florence</placeName> at the moment. The <persName
                        ref="#Fearing_Dan">Dan Fearings</persName> are at the Hotel de la Ville,
                    near us. Today <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> went out in
                    the morning for a drive, and then again in the afternoon to <placeName
                        ref="#San_Miniato">San Miniato</placeName>, and went into the church for a
                    few minutes. This morning I went to Palotti’s with <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName>, where we met the <persName
                        ref="#Adams_Thatcher">Thatcher Adams</persName> and <persName
                        ref="Bronson_Mrs">Mrs. Bronson</persName>. <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> bought some lovely old Venetian brocade, and four
                    charming cushions of green Genoa velvet. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950413" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Saturday, April 13. </title></p>
                <p>We left Florence on Thursday morning soon after breakfast in two landaus –
                    sending <persName ref="#Jones_Daniel">Jones</persName> with the heavy luggage by
                    train – and stopping two hours during the middle of the day for rest and lunch –
                    reached <placeName ref="#Sienna">Sienna</placeName> by 6:30 – the distance being
                    40 miles. It was an enchanting drive – the day was perfect – the roads likewise
                    – leading over the hills and down the hills, and along the valleys – the country
                    very hilly, with strange abrupt little hills, almost every one crowned with a
                    walled town, or a convent, or a fortress. Olive orcharcs and vineyards
                    everywhere, violets and anemones and periwinkles blooming along <pb n="62"/> the
                    banks and roadsides. We went clattering through the narrow, tony street of one
                    little town after another – and with our jingling bells and creaking whips – and
                    as it was Holy Thursday all the people were out in their best attire, and having
                    a holiday. I had never posted through Italy before – and we were enchanted with
                    the mode of travel – and I was not one bit tired on reaching Sienna – which is
                    very effective on the crest of its 3 hills as it were, with its campaniles and
                    tower, and great encircling wall. Our hotel, the Grand Hotel Royal de Seinne,
                    was an old palace and stands high above the valley with beautiful views, and our
                    lofty rooms open on to a stone parapet overlooking the neighborhood to the wet –
                        <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> is again not well – and
                    I have been staying at home with her all day – she got too tired I fear the
                    other day on her drive here. Yesterday we sallied out early under <persName
                        ref="#Berenson_Mr">Berenson’s</persName> leadership, and walked about the
                    town, visiting the Palazzo Publico, the great town hall, built in the latter
                    part of the 11th century. Close to it rises the slender campanile called Del
                    Mangia – it stands in the square now called Vittorio Emanuele, and used to be
                    the Piazza del Campo – it is strangely semicircular in form, and rising like an
                    amphitheatre. <persName ref="#Dante">Dante</persName>, in his Purgatorio speaks
                    of this piazza. The interior is very interesting – with frescoes of the Siennese
                    masters – a large one of the Virgin and child, with a canopy borne by saints,
                    and opposite an equestrian portrait of a martial figure of Fogliani de Ricci –
                    by <persName ref="#Martini_Simone">Simone Martini</persName>. In the Sala dei
                    Nova, are frescoes by Ambrogio Lorenzetti painted in 1337-39 – much <pb n="63"/>
                    injured by dampness, but most quaint and interesting. Then we went to the Duomo,
                    which was begun in the early part of the 13th century. It is built in courses of
                    white and black marble, which at first give a very bizarre effect – but the
                    infinite variety of detail, and the richness of the marbles make the interior
                    very interesting. The pavement too is remarkably rich in graffiti – though much
                    of it is covered with boards and cannot be seen. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950414" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Easter, April 14. </title></p>
                <p>We spent most of the morning at the Duomo, listening to a high mass – music not
                    very good, but the whole scene was impressive. When we all became quite frozen
                    we came away. It has been raining a little all day – and I have been indoors all
                    the afternoon. At sunset last evening, <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName>, <persName ref="#Parsons_Mary">Mary</persName> and I
                    walked to the fortress as it is called, or the “Lizza” a beautiful promenade
                    with fine trees and shrubberies up the side of a former fortress built by
                        <persName ref="#Charles_V">Charles V</persName>, - giving charming views
                    from its height over plain and mountains. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950415" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Easter Monday, April 15. </title></p>
                <p>The rain of yesterday has given place to a cloudy cold day – and putting on our
                    warmest wraps we went after breakfast to the Baptistry of the Duomo, which I
                    called S. Giovanni, and forms a kind of crypt – though the front is open to the
                    small piazza of S. Giovanni. There is here the most wonderful marble font, with
                    splendid bronze reliefs by <persName ref="#Ghiberti">Ghiberti</persName> and
                        <persName ref="#della_Quercia_Jacopo">J. della Quercia</persName>, and
                        <persName ref="#Donatello">Donatello</persName>. There are <pb n="64"/> 2
                    especially beautiful bronzes by <persName ref="#Donatello">Donatello</persName>
                    at the corners of the reliefs – figures of Hope and Faith – the lines so grand –
                    the pose so dignified and natural – and 3 delicious little bronze cherubs, quite
                    perfect – the beautiful marble work is by <persName ref="#della_Quercia_Jacopo"
                        >della Quercia</persName>. Then we went to the Opera del Duomo, over the way
                    and saw many wondrous things. Quite the most wonderful were the paintings of
                        <persName ref="#di_Buoninsegna_Duccio">Duccio di Buoninsegna</persName> an
                    early Sienese painter of the 13th century. I have never before seen any of his
                    works – and in the novelty of the surprise I am almost ready to declare they are
                    the mot beautiful things I have ever seen – certainly I have never seen more
                    exquisite, sweet, religious entiment. A large Madonna with child and saints, and
                    26 little pictures illustrating the life of Christ. Afterwards we went into the
                    Duomo, where was a large congregation and a monk preaching in the most energetic
                    manner. We walked about and then went into the small and rich capel of S.
                    Giovanni – an admirable Renaissance work – with a statue of John the Baptist in
                    bronze by <persName ref="#Donatello">Donatello</persName> – a font by <persName
                        ref="#della_Quercia_Jacopo">Jacopo della Quercia</persName> – and small
                    frescoes by <persName ref="#Pintoricchio">Pintoricchio</persName> and <persName
                        ref="#Peruzzi_Baldassare">Baldassare Peruzzi</persName> – illustrative of
                    the life of the Baptist. Then into the Library of the Duomo – a magnificent
                    vaulted room, with enormous frescoes by <persName ref="#Pintoricchio"
                        >Pintoricchio</persName> – rather crude in colouring but fine in treatment
                    and perspective – with a superb collection of old Missals, some of them with
                    exquisite miniatures by <persName ref="#da_Verona_Liberali">Liberali da
                        Verona</persName>. Then across the street to the hospital of S. Maria della
                    Scala – just after we had entered the handsome entrance hall a large company of
                    the brothers of the Misericordia came in bearning a bier like stretcher with a
                    sick person on it – and as they formed <pb n="65"/> in line and waited, they
                    made quite a scene in their long black robes and cowls. The hospital looked very
                    clean – and in the church was a beautiful organ with artistic brass work by
                    Peruzzi. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950418" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Perugia. April 18. <lb/> Thursday – Grand Hotel </title></p>
                <p>We made rather an early start on Tuesday morning by rail, and arrived at
                        <placeName ref="#Chiusi">Chiusi</placeName> at 1:30 where we stopped for an
                    hour, and had an excellent lunch at the station. We found two carriages waiting
                    for us which had been sent over by Mme. Beccafumi – and had an enchanting drive
                    here which we reached at 7 o’clock. For an hour or two before reaching
                        <placeName ref="#Perugia">Perugia</placeName>, our way lay around and by
                        <geogName ref="#Lake_Trasimeno">Lake Thrasymene</geogName>, giving most
                    charming views, and grew more beautiful as we reached this wonderful old town,
                    lying so almost unapproachably on it mountain height – as we climbed backwards
                    and forwards up to its great walls and fortresses, the sun was going down beyond
                    the mountains above the great Umbrian plain and the cloud scenery was quite
                    wonderful. Our hotel is very good – and our appartments quite palatial. The
                    house stands on one of the highest parts of the town, commanding a widely
                    magnificent view – with the picturesque town lying about and below us – what a
                    scenery of roofs – campaniles – gardens and winding, climbing roads – with the
                    wide plain far below – and range after range of mountain enclosing it – some of
                    their peaks white with snow. Yesterday morning we went for a walk about the town
                    – then to the Cathedral which is poor and uninteresting, but in the sacristy of
                    which is a large painting by <persName ref="#Signorelli_Luca">Luca
                        Signorelli</persName> – <pb n="66"/> very lovely in tone and colour – with
                    admirable figures. Then to the old Chamber of Commerce, where the walls are
                    quite covered with paintings and decorations by <persName ref="#Perugino"
                        >Perugino</persName> – and the stalls and seats and panels are most
                    beautifully carved and inlaid by Antonio Mercalello – the designs being quite
                    exquisite. Then we climbed flight after flight of stone steps until we came to
                    the top of the Palazzo Publico, where is the gallery of paintings – principally
                    of the Umbrian school. Strange, quaint things most of them were – gathered in
                    from churches and monasteries. In spite of their archaicisms many of them truly
                    charming in sentiment and colouring – especially the “Adoration of the Magi” and
                    the Madonna with angels playing on instruments by <persName
                        ref="#Bonfigli_Benedetto">Benedetto Bonfigli</persName> – whose works I have
                    never before seen – nor any of <persName ref="#da_Camerino_Giovanni_Boccatio"
                        >Giovanni Boccati da Camerino</persName>, who has a most delightful “Madonna
                    col Bambine e Molti Angelic he cantano a altri Santi” – the choir of angels
                    surround the Madonna’ throne in a semicircle leaning over a parapet – their
                    golden heads and pink cheeks most charming, singing with all their might so that
                    one almost hears their voice – little angels on either side the throne, one
                    playing a harp – and the other dear a mandolin – above all a canopy of flowering
                    trees. Now have I ever seen or heard of <persName ref="#di_Lorenzo_Fiorenzo"
                        >Fiorenzo di Lorenzo</persName> whose four panels illustrating the miracles
                    of S. Bernadino are delightful in colour, action and sentiment – evidently
                    painted from life in the streets and squares of <placeName ref="#Perugia"
                        >Perugia</placeName>. There was an Annunciation by <persName
                        ref="#della_Francesca_Piero">Piero della Francesca</persName>, forming the
                    upper part of a panel containing four saints, done evidently by other hands –
                    figures in the Annunciation beautiful with fine architectural perspective. After
                        <pb n="67"/> coming out these deadly cold galleries, the bright sun was
                    quite blinding – and to put some warmth into us, we walked through the streets
                    down to the old and picturesque Roman Gate, on it massive Etrucan foundations,
                    now called the Areo di Augusto, with the inscription Augusta Perusia on it. I
                    have long had a fine photograph of it. By the time we had climbed the stony
                    street and reached our hotel I was almost dead with fatigue. Today the morning
                    dawned dark and threatening, and it has gone on from bad to worse. We have all
                    stayed indoors writing and grumbling. Among other letters <persName
                        ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> wrote was one to <persName
                        ref="#Fielding_Everard">Everard Fielding</persName>, which was taken out
                    with others late into the hall and laid on the porters desk. Soon afterwards
                        <persName ref="#Fielding_Basil">Basil Fielding</persName> came along, and
                    seeing the letter addressed to his brother, went to the register to see who was
                    likely to have written it – and seeing our names, sent in his card. We were
                    delighted to see the pleasant boy again, and persuaded him and his friend, a
                    priest, <persName ref="#Forbes_Father">Father Forbes</persName>, to have lunch
                    with us – and after a jolly lunch, and visit, they went out with <persName
                        ref="#Berenson_Mr">Berenson</persName> to see some sights. They had come
                    from <placeName ref="#Assisi">Assisi</placeName> this morning, and went back
                    this afternoon – they are spending their Easter vacation at <placeName
                        ref="#Assisi">Assisi</placeName> – and as we intend driving over there
                    tomorrow (only 8 miles) we have arranged to meet and lunch together. <persName
                        ref="#Fielding_Basil">Basil</persName> is still at the Scotch college in
                        <placeName ref="#Rome">Rome</placeName> – and as rampant a young churchman
                    as ever – we have been promoted today to a very charming apartment just vacated
                    by the <persName ref="#Bedford_Dowager_Duchess_of">Dowager Duchess of
                        Bedford</persName> – my room is at the corner, overlooking the great
                        <placeName ref="#Umbria">Umbrian plain</placeName>, with the grand sweep of
                    the <placeName ref="#Appenines">Appenines</placeName> – and I seem to be hanging
                    in mid air. </p>
            </div>

            <pb n="68"/>
            <div xml:id="EBA18950420" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Saturday, April 20. </title></p>
                <p>Yesterday the rain poured almost continuously – only clearing for awhile in the
                    afternoon when we took <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName>, who
                    has not been able to do any sight seeing here, to the Sacristy of the Duomo, to
                    see <persName ref="#Signorelli_Luca">Signorelli’s</persName> beautiful Madonna,
                    Child and Saints. The light was more favorable than on the other day – and we
                    sat a long time in the quiet sacristy looking at it. What harmonious color! Then
                    we went to del Cambio, and then <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> got into the little carriage with <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName> and me, and we went to the
                    charming church of S. Pietro di Casimenci, with no interesting pictures, but
                    wonderful woodwork and intarsi – and an altogether interesting old basilica of
                    the year 1000. Last night it rained as the femme de chamber expressed it
                    “terriblement” - and all this morning the clouds hung about the valley and
                    trailed along the mountain sides. But we ordered luncheon early, and determined
                    to drive to <placeName ref="#Assisi">Assisi</placeName> – but at the last moment
                    my courage failed, and then <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette"
                        >Nettie’s</persName>, and so we stayed at home, and were busy all the
                    afternoon at one window or another watching the wonderful cloud effects, and the
                    great marshaling of light and shade across the plain. The carriage came back
                    about 7 o’clock with our poor people chilled and tired – for the weather has
                    changed and it is cold. We are all ready for our start for <placeName
                        ref="#Bologne">Bologne</placeName> tomorrow morning. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950423" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Hotel Cavour. Milan. April 23. </title></p>
                <p>We left <placeName ref="#Perugia">Perugia</placeName> Sunday morning – the
                    weather having cleared perfectly, giving us perfect views – changed cars at
                        <placeName ref="#Tarantalo">Tarantalo</placeName> – and <pb n="69"/> got an
                    excellent compartment to ourelves quite through to <placeName ref="#Bologne"
                        >Bologne</placeName> – the views as we crowned the <geogName
                        ref="#Appenines">Appenines</geogName> on that bright day were fine – went to
                    the Hotel Brun, where we stayed 9 years ago, and had the same apartment – grand
                    but very gloomy. The next morning we went to the Belli Arti and saw some lovely
                    Francias – Timeoteo Vitete “Magdalen”, <persName ref="#Raphael"
                        >Raphael’s</persName>’s St. Cecilia – a lovely Madonna by <persName
                        ref="#Cima">Cima</persName>. We spent most of the morning there, and then
                    went to the Museo Civica, where we spent a rather unsatisfactory hour. In the
                    afternoon we drove up to S. Michele in Bosco – a rather interesting and handsome
                    church of the Olivetans – the monastery now changed into an Orthopedic Hospital
                    with a beautiful view. On our way home <persName ref="#Berenson_Mr">Mr.
                        Berenson</persName> took us to the San Vitale church to show us a beautiful
                    Francia – an altar piece – two angels with a lovely landscape. We hould have
                    left <placeName ref="#Bologna">Bologna</placeName> at 6 o’clock – but on
                    reaching the station heard that our train was 40 minutes late – but the waiting
                    was very amusing – for a number of church dignitaries were waiting for an
                    incoming train which was to bring an eminence of Cardinal Archbishop, with
                    numerous clerical belongings to attend an important meeting. He proved an
                    amiable looking old man – and was most respectfully greeted by the crowd. We
                    were late getting here – and were disappointed not to get our old rooms – the
                    hotel is crowded – and so are the trains with tourists coming north – by the
                    time our luggage arrived and we had our supper, it was not far from one o’clock.
                    This morning we started out soon after breakfast for the Poldi Pezzoli, and
                    spent an hour or more – then to the Ambrosiana – and home by one o’clock tired
                    indeed. In the afternoon <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore">Theodore</persName> and
                        <pb n="70"/>
                    <persName ref="#Berenson_Mr">Berenson</persName> went to a private gallery to
                    see some pictures, and then Berenson, <persName ref="#Buttles_Jeanette"
                        >Nettie</persName> and I got into a little open cab, and drove to S.
                    Lorenzo, the eldest church in <placeName ref="#Milan">Milan</placeName> – with
                    remains of Roman buildings about it – and in the street near it are 16
                    Corinithian columns, which remain from an ancient colonnade. Then to S. Maria
                    preso S. Celso where I went the last time – and we stopped for a few moments at
                    the magnificent Opidale Maggiore – which is so vast that there are 9 courts in
                    it. </p>
            </div>

            <div xml:id="EBA18950426" type="Entry">
                <p><title>Milan – Friday, April 26 </title></p>
                <p>Wednesday was a gloomy day – and I was too wretched to leave the house. We went
                    to <placeName ref="#Bergamo">Bergamo</placeName> at 4 o’clock p.m. – arriving
                    there at 5:30 – went to the Hotel d’Italia – and were decently comfortable –
                    after we had ordered 3 big fires made in our rooms. We must have had all the god
                    rooms of the principal floor – and the last entry in the visitors’ book was Nov.
                    24, ’94. My room was a big ghostly thing, which with a big fire became almost
                    cheerful – and the curtains over my bed were presided over by a big holden
                    goose. We all crowded into a big landau the next morning and drove to the church
                    of S. Bartolomeo – where is a splendid fascinating altar picture of Lotto’s – a
                    Madonna and ten saints – <persName ref="#Berenson_Mr">Mr. Berenson</persName>
                    ordered down all the altar decorations so that we might better see the picture –
                    and we stayed in the deadly cold little church, until we were petrified, looking
                    at the delicious picture. In <persName ref="#Berenson_Mr">Berenson</persName>’s
                    recent book on Lotto, which we have not yet seen, he reproduces the principal
                    Lottos – so that I won’t try any description of those lovely pictures myself,
                    but will better refresh <pb n="71"/> my memory in the future by reading his
                    descriptions. Then we went to the S. Spirito church – and saw another great
                    altar piece by <persName ref="#Lotto">Lotto</persName>, the Madonna with four
                    saints with angels in a glory above. Then to the church of S. Bernardino with
                    another altar piece of Madonna and saints – quite the most beautiful of all.
                    Then we drove to the upper town and visited S. Maria Maggiore with the adjoining
                    chapel of “Collogni”, most richly decorated – and the Cathedral, with superb
                    tapestries, and wonderful serena and woodwork in the choir from <persName
                        ref="#Lotto">Lotto</persName>’s designs. It rained quite hard by the time we
                    drove back to the lower town. <persName ref="#Berenson_Mr">Mr.
                        Berenson</persName> had arranged with his friend <persName
                        ref="Pichinelli_Signor">Signor Pichinelli</persName>, one of the directors
                    of the Museum, and who is the owner of many good pictures, not only to show them
                    to us, but to take us to the palace of the Moroni family , and to show us two or
                    three other places – so that soon after lunch we again packed ourselves into the
                    carriage or rather into 2, and drove to the Maison Pichinelli, a most charming
                    house with superb grounds in good order. We were received most hospitably and
                    talked our little French and Italian as best we could – and then <persName
                        ref="Pichinelli_Signor">Signor P.</persName> went with us to the Moroni
                    palace, a magnificent house in the highest part of the old town – where in a
                    splendid loftly room we saw two of the most splendid Moroni’s – which have never
                    been photographed. One of a young man in a lovely harmony of red – and the other
                    a most distinguished middle aged man in black against a gray background – the
                    pose, character, colour, quite perfect. While we were looking at these, the
                        <persName ref="#Loroni_Countess">Countess Loroni</persName> arrived, a
                    charming little person, who did the honours of her house most graciously – and
                    took us from one pretty room to another, filled with pictures and bric-a-brac.
                    After that we went to the Roucardi palace, <pb n="72"/> a gloomy magnificent
                    house – with interesting family pictures – then to the Baglioni house – still
                    more gloomy, and damp – but with an excellent collection of pictures etc. – an
                    especially beautiful Cariani, and some Guardis – the rain poured all the
                    afternoon and evening. This morning we went to the famous Bergamo Gallery – a
                    small gallery – but of exquisite quality – what treasures – and what a pleasure!
                    The morning was beautifully clear and for the first time we saw the wide view
                    from the upper town – we took a drive around the castle and were home in time
                    for a hurried lunch, and off for the station, where we had to say a reluctant
                    goodbye to <persName ref="#Berenson_Mr">Berenson</persName>, who had to go to
                        <placeName ref="#Venice">Venice</placeName> to join <persName
                        ref="#Gardiner_Jack_Mrs">Mrs. Jack Gardiner</persName> for a day or two. We
                    got back to <placeName ref="#Milan">Milan</placeName> at 2:30 and <persName
                        ref="#Buttles_Jeanette">Nettie</persName>, <persName ref="#Parsons_Mary"
                        >Mary</persName> and I drove from the station to the <placeName ref="#Brera"
                        >Brera</placeName>, where <persName ref="#Davis_Theodore"
                        >Theodore</persName> afterwards joined us – and afterwards he and I went to
                    the private house where he had seen two little Dutch pictures for sale, and
                    after having another look at them decided to telegraph <persName
                        ref="#Berenson_Mr">Berenson</persName> to buy them for him. We are all ready
                    for our journey to <placeName ref="#Lucerne">Lucerne</placeName> tomorrow. </p>
            </div>

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