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inner door is closed up with mud, except a small aperture sufficient for a man to crawl through. Within this place the sheep are kept at night, and occasionally accompany their masters in their vocal concert. Over the door-way there are always some half-broken Egyptian figures, and the two foxes, the usual guardians of burial-places. A small lamp, kept alive by fat from the sheep, or rancid oil, is placed in a niche in the wall, and a mat is spread on the ground ; and this formed the grand divan' wherever I was.
There the people assembled round me, their conversation turning wholly on antiquities. Such a one had found such a thing, and another had discovered a tomb. Various articles were brought to sell to me, and sometimes I had reason to rejoice at having stayed there. I was sure of a supper of milk and bread served in a wooden bowl; but whenever they supposed I should stay all night, they always killed a couple of fowls for me, which were baked in a small oven heated with pieces of mummy cases, and sometimes with the bones and rags of the mummies themselves. It is no uncommon thing to sit down near fragments of bones: hands, feet, or skulls, are often in the way; for these people are so accustomed to be among the mummies, that they think no more of sitting on them than on the skins of their dead calves. I also became indifferent about them at last, and would have slept in a mummy pit as readily as out of it.
Here they appear to be contented. The laborer comes home in the evening, seats himself near his cave, smokes his pipe with his companions, and talks of the last inundation of the Nile, its products, and what the ensuing season is likely to be. His old wife brings him the usual bowl of lentils and bread moistened with water and salt, and (when she can add a little butter) it is a feast. Knowing nothing beyond this, he is happy. The young man's chief business is to accumulate the amazing sum of a hundred piastres (eleven dollars and ten cents,) to buy himself a wife, and to make a feast on the wedding-day.
If he have any children, they want no clothing: he leaves them to themselves till mother Nature pleases to teach them to work, to gain money enough to buy a shirt or some other rag to cover themselves; for while they are children they are generally naked or covered with rags.
The pārents are roguishly cunning, and the children are schooled by their example, so that it becomes a matter of course to cheat strangers. Would any one believe that, in such a state of life, luxury and ambition exist? If any woman be destitute of jewels, she is poor, and looks with envy on one more fortunate then herself, who perhaps has the worth of half a crown round her neck; and she who has a few glass beads, or some sort of coarse coral, a couple of silver brooches, or rings on her arms and legs, is considered as truly rich and great. Some of them are as complete coquettes in their way as any to be seen in the capitals of Europe.
When a young man wants to marry, he goes to the father of the intended bride, and agrees with him what he is to pay for her. This being settled, so much money is to be spent on the wedding-day feast. To set up housekeeping, nothing is requisite but two or three earthen pots, a stone to grind meal, and a mat which is the bed. The spouse has a gown and jewels of her own; and if the bridegroom present her with a pair of bracelets of silver, ivory, or glass, she is happy and fortunate indeed.
The house is ready, without rent or taxes. No rain can pass through the roof; and there is no door, for there is no want of one, as there is nothing to lose. They make a kind of box of clay and straw, which, after two or three days' exposure to the sun, becomes quite hard. It is fixed on a stand, an ap'erture is left to put all their precious things into it, and a piece of mummy-case forms the door. If the
house does not please them, they walk out and enter another, as there are several hundreds at their command; I might say several thousands, but they are not all fit to receive inhabitants.
Address to the Mummy in Belzoni's Exhibition, London.
New MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago,
And time had not begun to overthrow
Thou hast a tongue-come, let us hear its tune;
Thou’rt standing on thy legs, above ground, Mummy!
Revisiting the glimpses of the moon,
-for doubtless thou canst recollect,
Of either Pyramid that bears his name?
By oath to tell the mysteries of thy trade,
In Memnon's statue which at sunrise played ? Perhaps thou wert a Priest—if so, my struggles Are vain ;-Egyptian priest ne'er owned their juggles. Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat,
Has hob-a-nobb’d with Pharaoh glass to glass;
Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass,
any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled, For thou wert dead, and buried, and embalmed,
Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled :-
We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations ; The Roman empire has begun and ended ;
New worlds have risen-we have lost old nations, And countless kings have into dust been humbled, While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head,
When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses,
O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis,
* Pron. hā'-pěn-ne.
If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed,
The nature of thy private life unfold :-
And tears adown that dusky cheek have rolled :-
Imperishable type of evanescence ! Pos'thumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed,
And standest undecayed within our presence,
If its undying guest be lost for ever?
In living virtue ; that when both must sever,
pure its waters, its shallows are bright
The flowers of summer are fairest there,
Yet, fair as thou art, thou shunnest to glide,
That fairy music I never hear,
thee in silent dream;