A right good sight in Alexandria is the broad, mansion-skirted promenade of the Rue Rosette on a Sunday morning. The French "quality" of the city seems to reside there, and the best of it all is to watch the dainty little French girls going to Mass in the pleasant sunshine. They promenade that street in groups for two or three hours until all are retired into the residences for the mid-day meal. There is a delicacy of beauty in these little girls that affects one strangely after eight months from the haunt of woman and child. The Rue Rosette in the morning, or the Quai Promenade Abbas II., fronting the lovely Crescent of Port Est: this is the place to laze away a morning, hanging over the broad stone wall on the water's edge, or lounging in the open cafés behind the smooth road. There is that generous expanse of glittering sea heaving gently between the horns of the bay. The Fort Kait Bey lies brown on the western lip and Fort Sel Sileh on the east, half embracing the blue. A rich mellow colour they have, and a richer blue it is for that. And the white piles of Alexandria thrust up all about the bay's brink, fringing the clear basin with a sort of stately splendour. It's fine, too, the comfortable laziness of the red-tarbushed fishermen on the wall, smoking and fooling away the morning in the soft landbreeze blowing sweet off the city. The only movement is with the Arab boys racing along the parapet or the quiet motion of the fishing-smacks lying off. An old Russian aristocrat is taking the air in a gharry; the nursemaids are out with the babes; the well-dressed unemployed Egyptians (they throng the city) are sipping their morning coffee in the glass-walled cafés. Alexandria often gives the impression--except in the Square--that there are no livings to be made. There is a luxurious spirit of idleness abroad in the place, which appears on the balconies of the houses, in the cafés, in the carriages of the suburbs. The idle rich--who are largely not the vulgar rich--are here, whole battalions of them. There is nothing like the studied idleness of Edinburgh Town or of Naples--nor of Cairo. There are plutocrats who know how to dress and how to take their ease without boredom, and to pursue pleasure without apparent _ennui_. All these things (you feel) have they observed from their youth up; they practise none of them crudely. They are well schooled in a placid and luxurious enjoyment of life.