By the way a party for travel in Egypt, if pleasure, not work, is the first object, may be a large one, and need not be composed entirely of historians and philosophers. All liberal pursuits and reasonable ways of looking at things may be represented advantageously. A naturalist and a geologist are almost indispensable. A member of the Ethnological Society might, at times, turn up worth his salt. A Liverpool, or Manchester, man whose ideas are of commerce, manufactures, and machinery; of the value of things, and how to do things, would often serviceably recall speculation to the standard of present utility. But by all means have a young fellow late from Harrow, and still great in athletics. He is always to the front, like a cork to the surface of the water. He is never afraid of work, or of roughing it. He is always good-tempered and merry. Always glad to hear what has anything in it; is impatient of twaddle, and can’t stand assumption. Some day he will himself be an Egyptologer, or geologist, or something of the kind. At present he is tolerant, and allows these things to those who like them. What he likes is a rousing gallop on the Sheik’s horse, a girl that has no nonsense in her, a champagne luncheon, a good cigar. Some things, and some chaps he thinks slow, but the general rule is ‘all right.’ A Nile party is the better for this ingredient. We mediævalists must not be over-reasonable. He will help us a little to keep this tendency in check. Besides, we were once young ourselves, while our friend was never, though we all hope he may live to be, an old fogie. Four of us went to the top together. But _place aux dames_, and no young lady, from the days of Cheops, better deserved the first place than she who, on an early day in January, 1871, ascended his Pyramid with eye as bright, and foot as sure, as a gazelle’s. If he still haunts the mighty monument in which he was laid, after having bent his people to its erection for fifty years, he must have thought, as the Lily of the North stood on its summit, that he was well repaid. For ne’er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace Of finer form, or lovelier face. A foot more light, a step more true, Ne’er from the heath-flower dashed the dew; E’en the light hare-bell raised its head Elastic from her airy tread. My young friend, late from Harrow, and great in athletics, was, of course, one of the four.