We didn't. We tore ourselves away, saying that we would return to see them the following Sunday. We meant it, too—being both fond of prosecuting the study of native types of mankind. But, alas! the following Sunday found us on the sea, bound for the Dardanelles and Johnnie Turk. We presented our prospective helpmeets with sufficient Turkish Delight to ensure them dyspepsia for the ensuing seven days, _backsheeshed_ their parents till they smiled sixteen to the dozen, and took the back trail, escorted all the way to the Siding by the united population of the settlement. I doubt if we should have saluted the General himself had we bumped up against him, we felt so good. On the whole, we had a rather good time during our stay in Egypt. Our camp lay close to both Old and New Heliopolis. The new town was built as a kind of Eastern Monte Carlo, by a continental syndicate which, however, failed to obtain the necessary gaming licence. It is spotlessly clean, the streets are like glass, and the architecture mostly snowy-white and Corinthian-Roman in design. An enormous hotel, said to be one of the largest in the world, occupies the centre of a prettily planted square; there is a fine, showy Casino, and whole streets of beautifully designed buildings. It is, in fact, a model little town resting incongruously enough on the arid desert, a bit of Monaco transplanted to the land of the Pharaohs. A close inspection, however, reveals the fact that a large part of the solid-looking architecture is a sham, most of the ornamental work being moulded in stucco. In this connection the natives will tell you that when the heavy rains put in an appearance (they only visit these parts about once in every three years or so) Heliopolis begins to moult—in plain words the outer crust of lime washes away, and the town bears the appearance of a fleshless skeleton. You can still see bits of Old Heliopolis—the Heliopolis of the Scriptures. In fact, the modern town is built partly on the site of the ancient city which the Virgin Mary passed through. Your guide will point out to you the Virgin's Well and what purports to be the tree she rested under. You can swallow the latter assertion with a large mouthful of salt; the plant looks altogether too flourishing and full of life to have so many years on its head. The original Virgin's Tree is, I believe, to be found close handy—an old dead stump that might be any age. In the Virgin's Chapel adjoining you will find a number of beautiful mural paintings depicting the Flight into Egypt.