we feel certain that, if the destroying hand of man had not stripped off its polished outer casing from the Great Pyramid, the modern traveller would behold it precisely as it was seen fifty centuries ago, when the architect reported to Cheops the completion of the work. I have been speaking of the relation, in respect of height, of the Great Pyramid to the Cataract of Philæ only; it may, however, be noticed, for the sake of enabling the fireside traveller to picture more readily to his mind the peculiarity of the hypsometrical features of this unique country, that this Pyramid looks down, and always from a relatively greater height, on every part of the cultivated soil of the whole land of Egypt. CHAPTER IX. THE WOODEN STATUE IN THE BOULAK MUSEUM. Vivi vultus.—VIRGIL. In the museum of Egyptian antiquities at Boulak, the harbour of Cairo, is a wooden statue of an old Egyptian. It was found in a tomb at Sakkara, and belongs to one of the early dynasties of the old primæval monarchy. It is absolutely untarnished by the thousands of years it had been reposing in that tomb. There is no stain of time upon it. To say that it is worth its weight in gold is saying nothing: for its value is not commensurable with gold. It is history itself to those who care to interpret such history. The face is neither of the oval, nor of the round type, but as it were, of an intermediate form; the features and their expression are just such as might be seen in Pall Mall, or in a modern drawing-room, with the difference that there is over them the composed cast of thought of the wisdom of old Egypt. As you look at the statue intently—you cannot do otherwise—the soul returns to it. The man is reflected from the wood as he might have been from a mirror. He is not a genius. His mind is not full of that light which gives insight. He cannot communicate to others unusual powers of seeing and feeling. He cannot send an electric shock through the minds and hearts of a generation. He is no prophet whose lips have been touched with fire, no poet whose words are creations, no master of philosophical construction, no natural leader of men.