That is my story which begins somewhere along the banks of the Nile and which in the course of three generations lifts a farmer from the ranks of his own humble ancestors and drops him outside the gate but near the throne-room of the King's palace. What happened to Fish, happened to a large number of equally energetic and resourceful men. They formed a class apart. They married each other's daughters and in this way they kept the family fortunes in the hands of a small number of people. They served the King faithfully as officers in his army and as collectors of his taxes. They looked after the safety of the roads and the waterways. They performed many useful tasks and among themselves they obeyed the laws of a very strict code of honor. If the Kings were bad, the nobles were apt to be bad too. When the Kings were weak the nobles often managed to get hold of the State. Then it often happened that the people arose in their wrath and destroyed those who oppressed them. Many of the old nobles were killed and a new division of the land took place which gave everybody an equal chance. But after a short while the old story repeated itself. This time it was perhaps a member of the Sparrow family who used his greater shrewdness and industry to make himself master of the countryside while the descendants of Fish (of glorious memory!) were reduced to poverty. Otherwise very little was changed. The faithful peasants continued to work and pay taxes. The equally faithful tax gatherers continued to gather wealth. But the old Nile, indifferent to the ambitions of men, flowed as placidly as ever between its age-worn banks and bestowed its fertile blessings upon the poor and upon the rich with the impartial justice which is found only in the forces of nature. THE RISE AND FALL OF EGYPT We often hear it said that "civilization travels westward." What we mean is that hardy pioneers have crossed the Atlantic Ocean and settled along the shores of New England and New Netherland--that their children have crossed the vast prairies--that their great-grandchildren have moved into California--and that the present generation hopes to turn the vast Pacific into the most important sea of the ages. As a matter of fact, "civilization" never remains long in the same spot. It is always going somewhere but it does not always move westward by any means. Sometimes its course points towards the east or the south. Often it zigzags across the map. But it keeps moving. After two or three hundred years, civilization seems to say, "Well, I have been keeping company with these particular people long enough," and it packs its books and its science and its art and its music, and wanders forth in search of new domains. But no one knows whither it is bound, and that is what makes life so interesting. [Illustration: THE SOIL OF THE FERTILE VALLEY.]