On the day of our arrival we sat up late on the terrace of our hotel, looking out on the Esbekieh Gardens, where the Arab band is playing every night. I was astonished to hear Russian popular airs among their repertoire. Smart British officers, quartered in Cairo, in tight-fitting uniforms, strolled leisurely about the streets. Dignified Arabs, mysterious long-robed figures, appeared to float rather than walk, their white bournouses blowing behind them, native nurses wheeled perambulators, the negresses wrapped up in white veils and the Arab nurses in blue covers. A band of tourists, riding spirited little donkeys, passed along. Egyptian donkeys are fine little animals, holding their heads high like thoroughbreds; they are white for the greater part and shaved in designs. The best donkeys are brought out from Mecca, and valued higher than horses. Oh, how hot it is in Cairo! It never rains here; sometimes clouds are to be seen on the horizon, but over the town the sky is permanently of azure blue. In the daytime we are bothered by a swarm of flies, and are devoured at night by greedy mosquitoes—a veritable Egyptian plague! Our apartment is next to the Hollands, our new American friends, who travelled with us on board the “Tzar,” from Piræus to Alexandria. Mrs. Holland is a charming lady, but rather despotic; she could twist her husband round her little finger. He was very mild and fond of peace. Mr. Koyander, the Russian consul, placed himself at our disposal and gave us a great deal of interesting information. It is now the “Ramadan,” one of the biggest Mussulman feasts, and the Arab quarter of the town is especially animated. We drove with Mr. Koyander through narrow and dirty streets and arrived at a great open place. I was extremely interested by the panorama of the East which passed before our eyes. We met the most varied types: magnificent Arabs; Syrians in red mantles; Copts—Christians of the Greek faith—wearing black turbans; blue-clad figures of Fellahs in a garb that recalled the ill-omened coat of Joseph; and other specimens of the brown children of the Nile. The Egyptian women have painted chins and a ring stuck through their noses. The eyes of their babies were stuck round with flies, the poor mites being too apathetic to drive them away. This oriental throng, in turbans, stared at us unbenevolently, except a young negress, carrying a naked baby astride on her shoulder, who offered me a piece of sugar-cane, smiling and showing beautiful, glittering white teeth. We passed with some difficulty through the crowd and manœuvred between the tables, laid out with refreshments, set in the middle of the streets, and entered an Arab café to see the dances of the “bayadères,” or Egyptian dancing-girls. At the entry hung a dark curtain, covering the open doorway, which was lifted for us to pass, and we found ourselves in a small hall where three “bayadères” sat upon a raised platform; they