It is somewhat the same with nations. They leave momentous events in their history carved in marble, painted on canvas or written in whatever fashion they have known; but it is left largely to us to weave in the rest of the story as best we may--and too often this part is neglected. People long since vanished seem too often like unreal creatures, who fought in wars, established dynasties, enjoyed periods of peace and suffered in times of tumult, and these events appear to be fitted together like the pieces of a puzzle. Had historians keener imaginations they might bring these ancient people before us as distinctly human, so that, like the characters of Dickens and Scott, they would abide in our memories. But then you see, someone would suggest that this was no longer history. However, the world has seen a few queens who have apparently determined to relegate dullness and monotony to kings--as for themselves they would have none of it. Such was Good Queen Bess of England, and such also was Queen Hatshepsut of long-forgotten Egypt. Thutmose I. had been a great warrior; he had subdued the Nubians and Ethiopians in Africa, and then, roused to a spirit of conquest, he had pushed into Asia, revenged the indignities inflicted upon his people by the Hyksos, and had made his power felt far beyond the Euphrates. When no longer able to rule, he left the widest empire the world had yet seen to his daughter Hatshepsut, aged twenty-four, and to his seventeen year old son. Hatshepsut had inherited her father's great ability and tireless energy; the son was weak and purposeless. His untimely death gave occasion for many both then and since to wonder if his vindictive sister did all she could to save him. Certain it is that Queen Hatshepsut rallied sufficiently from the shock of his death to reign for many years. It was very disconcerting to a nation so strongly held by tradition and veneration for established customs as was Egypt, to have a woman on the throne of the Pharaohs. This is amusingly shown in temples where her loyal supporters sought to lessen prejudices felt because she was a woman by portraying pictures designed to show that her birth had been attended by special marks of favor and of prophecy on the part of the gods. In these, however, she is often represented as a _boy_. She seems to have regretted not having been a man, and no doubt the matter was constantly thrust before her and she was forced to feel how greatly this placed her at a disadvantage among her subjects. She seems to have made heroic efforts to modify the differences in sex as much as possible by assuming a beard and by having herself represented in art in a king's official dress. Furthermore, a bewildering use of pronouns seem to have been employed concerning her, and such phrases as: "his majesty herself," and others similar have come down to us.