We landed at Alexandria, November 27, 1878, and left the next day for Cairo, where we stayed at Shepheard’s Hotel, then a primitive place, where the turbaned fellaheen servants were summoned by clapping the hands. As we sat on that famous terrace of Shepheard’s, looking out at the motley crowd surging by, two figures with flowing white sleeves, carrying light wands in their hands, ran side by side down the street, before a victoria drawn by a pair of Arab horses. The flying figures were the sais or running footmen, who go before the carriage of a notable to clear away the crowd. At their low cry, “_O Wai Yer Geddeh! O Wai Yer Geddeh!_” (“Out of the way, you clever fellow!”) the water carriers, snake charmers, donkey boys, and camel drivers made way for the carriage to draw up before the hotel. “That,” said Sir George Elliott, a new acquaintance, “is Stone Pasha, Chief of Staff to the Khedive. He has come to call on some one.” He had come to call on us. Our cousin, Julia McAllister, who was traveling with us, was an old friend; to her we owed the good offices of this powerful friend at court. Stone Pasha was a handsome man with white hair and mustache and strong regular features. In spite of his Egyptian uniform and fez, he bore the stamp of West Point, and looked the typical Civil War general he was. Our first meeting with Stone Pasha was full of interest. Though he was most solicitous that we should receive every attention, he was preoccupied and wore a harried look. How should he not? The curtain had rung up on the last act in the drama of Ismaïl Pasha’s life as Khedive of Egypt. The four million pounds England had paid for his interest in the Suez Canal were already spent, and Mr. Rivers Wilson was in Cairo looking after British interests. Stone Pasha must have known that the final catastrophe was near at hand, but he played the game to the end. He introduced to us several other Americans in the Khedive’s service, General Loring who had lost an arm in the Civil War, Purdy Bey, and Inman Barnard, whom I remembered in Boston. We had crossed on the steamer with Consul General Farman; thanks to these friends we met many interesting people, among others Sir Samuel and Lady Baker, with whom my mother talked endlessly. In speaking of her native Egyptian servant, Lady Baker said: “I assure you he is the best human being I have ever known.” The Bakers were very friendly; I remember Lady Baker showing me a remarkable necklace of lions’ claws she wore. Mr. and Mrs. Rivers Wilson, though we had some talk with both, were reserved and extremely formal. A reception at Mr. Goschen’s house was one of the few private festivities I recall. It may have been here that we met Mariette Bey, the French Egyptologist, under whose guidance we made our first visit to the Bulak Museum, of which he was founder and moving spirit.