I made the mistake of buying my drugs in
England, and had the useless trouble of looking after them during the
journey. Both at Alexandria and Cairo they are to be found in
abundance, cheaper than in London, and good enough for all practical
purposes.
[p.29]CHAPTER III.
THE NILE STEAMBOAT-THE "LITTLE ASTHMATIC."
IN the days of the Pitts we have invariably a "Relation" of Egyptian
travellers who embark for a place called "Roseet" on the "River Nilus."
Wanderers of the Brucean age were wont to record their impressions of
voyage upon land subjects observed between Alexandria and Cairo. A
little later we find every one inditing rhapsodies about, and
descriptions of, his or her Dahabiyah (barge) on the canal. After this
came the steamer. And after the steamer will come the railroad, which
may disappoint the author tourist, but will be delightful to that
sensible class of men who wish to get over the greatest extent of
ground with the least inconvenience to themselves and others. Then
shall the Mahmudiyah-ugliest and most wearisome of canals-be given up
to cotton boats and grain barges, and then will note-books and the
headings of chapters clean ignore its existence.
I saw the canal at its worst, when the water was low; and I have not
one syllable to say in its favour. Instead of thirty hours, we took
three mortal days and nights to reach Cairo, and we grounded with
painful regularity four or five times between sunrise and sunset. In
the scenery on the banks sketchers and describers have left you nought
to see. From Pompey's Pillar to the Maison Carree, Kariom and its
potteries, Al-Birkah[FN#1] of the night birds, Bastarah
[p.30]with the alleys of trees, even unto Atfah, all things are
perfectly familiar to us, and have been so years before the traveller
actually sees them. The Nil al-Mubarak itself-the Blessed Nile,-as
notably fails too at this season to arouse enthusiasm. You see nothing
but muddy waters, dusty banks, a sand mist, a milky sky, and a glaring
sun: you feel nought but a breeze like the blast from a potter's
furnace. You can only just distinguish through a veil of reeking
vapours the village Shibr Katt from the village Kafr al-Zayyat, and you
steam too far from Wardan town to enjoy the Timonic satisfaction of
enraging its male population with "Haykal! ya ibn Haykal! O Haykal!-O
son of Haykal[FN#2]!" You are nearly wrecked, as a matter of course, at
the Barrage; and you are certainly dumbfoundered by the sight of its
ugly little Gothic crenelles.[FN#3] The Pyramids of Khufa and Khafra
(Cheops
[p.31]and Cephren) "rearing their majestic heads above the margin of
the Desert," only suggest of remark that they have been remarkably
well-sketched; and thus you proceed till with a real feeling of
satisfaction you moor alongside of the tumble-down old suburb "Bulak."
To me there was double dulness in the scenery:
