At the town of Nadir he went into a low mud hut, which pretended to be a cafe, and there saw the Egyptian fandango danced by the inmates. He records the shape and sound of the musical instruments and with polished and concise language pictured the scene to the reader’s eye. This, with the accounts of the improvements, rates of toll, and the manner of passing the boats by locks, and government officials, with many minor details is told in a manner which, notwithstanding the dryness of the subject, makes most fascinating reading. But he counted his entrance into Cairo, the capital of Egypt, as the actual beginning of his tour into Africa. For at Alexandria and along the Nile as far as Bourak the people exhibited some traits which connect them with the civilized West. But Cairo is wholly Egyptian. The centuries have made no apparent changes in the people. The donkeys, the veiled women, the fierce Arabs, the water-skins, the fountains, the slaves, the palms, the white domes, and the low shops revive the historical associations and personify the Past. Like an oasis in the adjacent desert was the Hotel d’Europe. But it served to impress the reality of these surroundings more forcibly upon the travellers. With a readiness and enjoyment which his companions did not share, he accustomed himself to the manners and appearance of the people, and it was scarcely a day before Mr. Taylor would smoke his perfumed chibouk, sit cross-legged, and eat with his fingers like a native Arab. He rode the little donkeys as well as any citizen of Cairo, and was even more reckless than they, if that were possible, as he rode through the market-places at a furious speed. The Egyptians, like the Germans, Italians, French, Hungarians, and Syrians, felt a kind of fellowship for Mr. Taylor, and admired his good-sense in appreciating and adopting so many of their customs. He was the acquaintance and confidential friend of a dozen old Arabs before he had been two days in Cairo. He was a lover of mankind. He sympathized with them all. As the Shereef of Mecca rides by, Mr. Taylor admires his dignity and his imposing retinue. As a marriage procession files through the streets, he comments on the playing of the flutes, the crimson robes of the bride, and the diadem, with the simplicity of a country maiden in America. He enjoys the athletic tricks of the showmen, the skill of the swordsmen, the voices of the singers, the zeal of the beggars, and the endurance of the laborers. He is one of the same human family. They know it, and feel it, and he is welcome.