Produced by Al Haines










[Illustration: Cover Art]






[Frontispiece: S. G. Bayne]






A FANTASY OF

MEDITERRANEAN TRAVEL


BY

S. G. BAYNE



AUTHOR OF

  "QUICKSTEPS THROUGH SCANDINAVIA"
  "ON AN IRISH JAUNTING-CAR" ETC.



ILLUSTRATED



HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS

NEW YORK AND LONDON

MCMIX




Copyright, 1909, by HARPER & BROTHERS.

_All rights reserved_.

Published October, 1909.




PLACES VISITED ON THIS CRUISE

AND DESCRIBED

WITH PERSONAL EXPERIENCES


  MADEIRA
   SPAIN
    CADIZ
     SEVILLE
      ALHAMBRA
       ALGIERS
        MALTA
         GREECE
          TURKEY
           CONSTANTINOPLE
            ASIA MINOR
             SMYRNA
              HOLY LAND
               JERUSALEM
                RIVER JORDAN
                 JERICHO
                  DEAD SEA
                   EGYPT
                    CAIRO
                     THE NILE
                      MESSINA
                       NAPLES
                        POMPEII
                         ROME
                          VILLEFRANCHE
                           NICE
                            MONTE CARLO
                             ENGLAND




ILLUSTRATIONS


THE AUTHOR . . . . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_

FUNCHAL, THE LONG BRANCH OF MADEIRA; NICE BALMY PLACE
  FOR A REST AFTER A PANIC.  STEAMER LEAVES LONDON
  TWICE A WEEK.  HOTEL ACCOMMODATIONS BY CABLE

THE PARTHENON, ATHENS, GREECE--THE MOST IMPRESSIVE RUIN
  IN EXISTENCE

THE HISTORICAL PART OF ATHENS, GREECE--PANORAMA OF THE
  GREAT RUINED GROUPS

CONSTANTINOPLE AND THE GOLDEN HORN CROSSED BY THE GALATA
  BRIDGE, WITH STAMBOUL IN THE FOREGROUND.  THE YOUNG
  TURKS PRESENTED THIS AS THE FIRST SNAP OF THEIR
  OFFICIAL CAMERA.  LATER THEY "DEDICATED" THE BRIDGE
  BY HANGING THE FIRST BATCH OF MURDERERS ON IT

THESE SANDOWS OF STAMBOUL ARE CONSIDERED A HUSKY TRIO,
  EVEN IN THIS CITY OF STRONG MEN.  IF THESE KEGS ARE
  FILLED WITH SOUR MASH THEY'RE A MENACE TO THE WHISKEY
  TRUST AND OUGHT TO BE TAXED ACCORDINGLY

THE ABDICATION OF THE SULTAN, ABDUL HAMID II.--HIS LAST
  RIDE THROUGH THE STREETS OF CONSTANTINOPLE

MEHEMET V., THE NEW SULTAN, AFTER THE INVESTITURE,
  LEAVING THE MOSQUE

HANGING THREE LEADERS OF THE ARMENIAN MASSACRE ON THE
  GALATA BRIDGE, CONSTANTINOPLE, MAY 3, 1909

"THE MOOSKI," CAIRO.  THERE ARE MILES OF STREETS IN THIS
  ARTISTIC MARKET WHERE RUGS, TAPESTRIES, LACES, AND
  ORIENTAL _BRIC-A-BRAC_ MAY BE SECURED BY THE ANXIOUS
  AT AN ALARMING SACRIFICE.  EVERY MINUTE IS A BARGAIN DAY

SAMPLES Of CONSTANTINOPLE'S BRAND OF "WHITE WINGS."  IT'S
  A SIGHT FOR GODS AND MEN TO SEE THESE JOLLY DOGS GOBBLE
  THE TURKISH TIDBITS AFTER THE SUN HAS SET

A CROWD AT THE CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE, JERUSALEM,
  WAITING FOR THE DOORS TO OPEN.  EACH TRIBE IS IMPATIENT
  TO ENTER AND OCCUPY ITS OWN SPACE

THIS IS QUEEN HATSHEPSET'S DE-AL-BAHARA TEMPLE AT THEBES,
  ORNAMENTED WITH FINE GOLD.  THE ORIGINAL METHODS BY
  WHICH "HATTY" SWIPED THE MONEY TO BUILD THIS TEMPLE
  LEAVE WALL STREET TIED TO THE HITCHING POST AT THE
  SUB-TREASURY STEPS

OUR HOSPITABLE HOST AND HOSTESS IN THEIR SALON WHERE
  THEY ENTERTAINED US AT JERUSALEM

THE MOSQUE OF OMAR, JERUSALEM--"THE FINEST BUILDING
  IN THE EAST."  THE TURKS AND MOHAMMEDANS WASH THEIR
  FEET IN THE DRINKING FOUNTAINS HERE, BUT THAT, OF
  COURSE, IS A MERE DETAIL.  IT CLEARLY SHOWS, HOWEVER,
  THE COURAGEOUS FREEDOM AND _SANS SOUCI_ OF THE PEOPLE

THE WAILING PLACE, JERUSALEM. THE LESS SAID ABOUT THIS,
  THE BETTER

THE DEAD SEA WITH THE LONE FISHERMAN IN FRONT.  HE HAS
  JUST HEARD THAT THE FISH ARE NOT BITING AND IS SOMEWHAT
  DEPRESSED IN CONSEQUENCE

RIVER JORDAN, WHERE WE CROSSED ON A FERRY-BOAT; THE ONLY
  REASON FOR DOING IT WAS TO TRY A VOYAGE WITHOUT
  STEWARDS' FEES

POOL OF SILOAM, JERUSALEM, HOLY LAND

VIRGIN'S FOUNTAIN, HOLY LAND

THE TOWER OF DAVID, JERUSALEM

THE SPHINX--THE GRAND OLD GIRL OF ALL SCULPTURE.  THE
  SUN'S KISS WAS THE ONLY ONE SHE EVER HAD.  THE QUEEN
  OF POST-CARDS, TO WHICH THE PYRAMID BEHIND HER RUNS A
  CLOSE SECOND

RAMESES II

ARAB TYPES--CAMEL DRIVERS--SUNBURNT SNOWBALLS OF THE NILE

"RAM" IN THE LIME-LIGHT, WITH THE INEVITABLE GOATEE.  THE
  ONLY WAY HE COULD TRIM IT WAS WITH A BLAST OF DYNAMITE

OUR OWN NILE DONKEY, "BALLY-HOO-BEY."  KNEW HIS BUSINESS
  LIKE A BOOK, BUT OBJECTED TO THE TOD SLOAN RIDE (SPOKEN
  OF IN THE TEXT)--A WILD WEST EFFORT IN THE FAR EAST.
  ALI BABA, JR., IN THE SADDLE

TEMPLE OF LUXOR ON THE NILE.  "RAM" IS VERY MUCH IN
  EVIDENCE, BUT ONLY A SMALL PART OF HIS SCULPTURAL
  OUTPUT IS SEEN, AS THE STONE-CUTTERS' LIENS HAVE NOT
  YET BEEN SATISFIED

ANOTHER PART OF KARNAK; ONLY ONE MAN ON THE JOB, BUT HE IS
  QUITE EQUAL TO ALL ITS REQUIREMENTS AND EMERGENCIES

PILLARS OF THOTHMES III, KARNAK, EGYPT, WITH TWO YOUNG MEN
  ON THE LOOKOUT FOR BUSINESS.  THEY ARE BOTH WORTHY OF
  EVERY ENCOURAGEMENT

OBELISK OF THOTHMES I AND QUEEN HAPSHEPSET XVIII DYNASTY.
  TWO FINE OBELISKS IN THE TEMPLE OF KARNAK--A LITTLE
  TOPSY-TURVY LOOKING AND VERY MUCH IN NEED OF REPAIRS

THIS IS WHERE "RAM" FELL DOWN AND HAS NEVER SINCE BEEN
  "LIFTED."  IT TAKES _PIASTRES_ TO PUT SUCH A BIG MAN
  ON HIS FEET.  STONY MACADAM, PRESIDENT OF THE BAKSHISH
  TRUST & TIPPING COMPANY, WITH HIS CASHIER AND ENTIRE
  BOARD OF DIRECTORS IN ATTENDANCE.  IT'S A TOUGH PROBLEM
  "STONY" CAN'T SOLVE IF THERE'S MONEY BEHIND IT

THE ARCH OF CONSTANTINE, ROME--ONE OF THE FINEST EXTANT.
  THE EMPEROR THOUGHT IT ALL OUT AND PLANNED IT TO
  ASTONISH POSTERITY, AND INCIDENTALLY TO RECORD HIS OWN
  GREATNESS

THE FORUM, ROME'S GREATEST HISTORICAL CLUB, WHERE EVERY
  MAN HAD A HEARING IF HE HAD ANYTHING TO SAY.  SOME GREAT
  THINGS WERE SAID THERE AND THOUGHTS COINED WHICH ARE
  PASSING CURRENT AS OUR OWN TO-DAY

THE BATHS OF CARACALLA, ROME, WHERE THE ROMANS HAD THE
  BEST TIMES OF THEIR LIVES AND WERE ALWAYS IN THE PICTURE
  WHILE IT LASTED




A FANTASY OF MEDITERRANEAN TRAVEL


A DREAM OF ANTICIPATION

(_The spirit of the cruise_)

  The _King of Cork_ was a funny ship
    As ever ploughed the maine:
  She kep' no log, she went whar she liked;
    So her Cap'n warn't to blaime.

  The Management was funnier still.
    We always thought it dandy--
  Till it wrecked us on the Golden Horn,
    When we meant to land at Kandy.

  The Cap'n ran the boat ashore
    In aerated waters;
  The Purser died by swallowin' gas,
    Thus windin' up these matters.

    _L'Envoi_

  Fate's relentless finger,
    Points to the Purser's doom:
  He gulped the seltzer quickly--
    Then bust with an air-tight boom!


Taking my cue from this short, spasmodic dream I had one evening in a
steamer chair, of what I imagined was to happen on our coming voyage, I
started to scribble; and following the fantastic idea in the vision, I
shall adopt the abbreviated name of _The Cork_, for our good
ship--although some of the passengers preferred to call her _The
Corker_, as she was big and fine, and justly celebrated among those who
go down to the sea in fear and trembling.  The fame of this ship and
her captain spread so far and wide that a worthy band of male and
female pilgrims besought him to take them to foreign parts, for a
consideration.

There was great ado at starting, and when we finally steamed out of New
York harbor past the "Goddess of Liberty" one fine morning, the air was
rent with the screeching of steam sirens and the tooting of whistles.
The "Goddess" stood calm and silent on her pedestal; she looked
virtuous (which was natural to her, being made of metal), but her stoic
indifference was somewhat upset by an icy stalactite that hung from her
classic nose.  One of the passengers remarked that Bartholdi ought to
have supplied her with a handkerchief, but this suggestion was
considered flippant by his Philistine audience, and it made no
impression whatever.

The list of passengers stood at seven hundred, and an extensive
programme of entertainments was promoted for their amusement,
consisting of balls, lectures, glees, games of bridge whist and
progressive euchre, concerts, readings, and a bewildering schedule of
functions, too numerous to mention; in fact, it was a case of three
rings under one tent and a dozen side shows.

The passenger list comprised many examples of eccentric characters,
rarely found outside of the pages of Dickens; the majority, however,
were very interesting and refined people, and the exceptional types
only served to accentuate the desirability and variety of their
companionship on a voyage of this character.  Here is a description of
some of them, exaggerated perhaps in places, but not far from the facts
when the peculiar conditions surrounding them are fully considered.
Many of them were doing their best to attract attention in a harmless
way, and in most cases they succeeded, as there is really nothing so
immaterial that it escapes all notice from our fellows.

For instance, there was a human skyscraper, a giant, who had an immense
pyramid of tousled hair--a Matterhorn of curls and pomatum--who gloried
in its possession and scorned to wear hat, bonnet or cap.  When it
rained he went out to enjoy a good wetting, and came back a dripping
bear.  The sight made those of us who had but little hair atop our
pates green with envy, as all we could now hope for was not hair but
that the shellac finish on our polls might be dull and not shiny.  This
man also sat or stood in the sun by the hour to acquire that brick-red
tan that is "quite English, you know;" and he got it, but it did not
altogether match with the other coloring which nature had bestowed upon
him.  Then we had a "fidgetarian," who was one of the unlaundered
ironies of life; he could not keep still for a moment.  This specimen
was from Throgg's Neck, and danced the carmagnole in concentric circles
all by himself, twisting in and out between the waltzers evidently with
the feeling that he was the "whole show," and that the other dancers
were merely accessories to the draught he made, and followed in his
wake.  He was a half portion in the gold-filled class, and a charter
member of the Forty-second Street Country Club.

We were also honored by the presence of Mrs. Handy Jay Andy, of
Alexandry, who had "stunted considerable" in Europe, and was anxious to
repeat the performance in the Levant.  She didn't carry a pug dog, but
she thought a "lady" ought to tote round with her something in
captivity, so she compromised on a canary, which she bought in Smyrna,
where all the good figs come from.  She was a colored supplement to
high-toned marine society.

No collection of this kind would be complete without a military
officer, and we had him all right; we called him "the General," a man
who jested at scars and who had a beard out of which a Pullman pillow
might be easily constructed.  On gala nights he decorated himself with
medals, and on the whole was a very ornamental piece of human
_bric-à-brac_.  Of course we had the man with the green--but not too
French green--hat.  He had a curly duck's tail, dyed green, sticking up
in its rear, so that the view from the back would resemble Emperor
William.  He attracted attention, but somehow seemed like an empty
green bottle thrown in the surf.

Some of the ladies had their little peculiarities also.  There was Mrs.
Galley-West from North Fifth Avenue, New York, a "widow-lady," whose
name went up on the social electric-light sign when she began to ride
home in a limousine.  She stated that everybody who was anybody in that
great city knew who _she_ was and all about her.  Nobody disputed her
statements.  As time elapsed she became very confidential, and one day
stated that she was matrimonially inclined and intimated that she would
welcome an introduction to an aged millionaire in delicate health, as
it might result in her being able to carry out some ambitious plans she
had made in "philomathy."  By the time we reached Cairo she had lowered
her figures to a very modest amount--but she is still a widow.

The human mushroom was also in evidence--the girl narrow and straight
up-and-down, like a tube ending in a fishtail, with a Paquin wrap and a
Virot hat, reinforced with a steel net wire neck-band--the very latest
fads from Paris.  Her gowns were grand, her hats were great, I tell
you!  When some one was warbling at the piano, she would put her elbow
on the lid of the "baby grand," face the audience, and strike a
stained-glass attitude that would make Raphael's cartoons look like
subway posters.

[Illustration: FUNCHAL THE LONG BRANCH OF MADEIRA; NICE BALMY PLACE FOR
A REST AFTER A PANIC.  STEAMER LEAVES LONDON TWICE A WEEK.  HOTEL
ACCOMMODATIONS BY CABLE]

Among those present who came all the way from Medicine Hat was the
cowboy girl, who could ride a mustang, toss a steer with a lariat,
shoot a bear or climb a tree.  She wore a sombrero, rolled up her
sleeves, and was just _dying_ to show what she could do if she had only
half a chance.  She got it when we came to the donkey rides in Egypt.
She was a "Dreadnaught girl," sure enough.

The claims of the pocket "Venus" from the "Soo," must not be forgotten.
She was small and of the reversible, air-cooled, selective type, but as
perfect as anything ever seen in a glass case.  She wore a spray of
soft-shell crab-apple blossoms in her hair, which stamped her with the
bloom of Arcady.  She spilled her chatter lavishly, and had the small
change of conversation right at her finger-tips.  She had an
early-English look, and was deservedly popular with the boys.

The beet-sugar man from Colorado also had his place.  This specialist
put his table to sleep before we lost sight of land.  He stifled his
listeners with sugar statistics, informing them how many tons of beets
the State produced and what they were worth in money; how much to
expect from an acre, and the risks and profits of the industry: a
collection of facts that were the mythology of alleged truth.  If you
were good the gods would make you a sugar-king in the world to come,
and Colorado was to be financially sugar-cured in the sweet by-and-by.
His whole song was a powerful anaesthetic, and many at the table did
not know the meal was over till the steward woke them up.

One among our crowd who really mattered was a tall, gloomy, dyspeptic
man, hard to approach, but once known he never failed to harp on his
favorite string,--the old masters and the Barbizon school of painting.
This man had all the ready veneer of the art connoisseur.  He used to
talk by the hour about the great pictures he had seen, and gave each
artist a descriptive niche for what he thought him famous: such as, the
_expression_ of Rubens; the _grace_ of Raphael; the _purity_ of
Domenichino; the _correggiosity_ of Correggio; the _learning_ of
Poussin; the _air_ of Guido; the _taste_ of Coraceis, and the _drawing_
of Michelangelo.  This, of course, was all Greek to most of us, but it
raised the tone of the smoking-room and enveloped the entire ship in a
highly artistic atmosphere which no odors from the galley could
overcome.  Incidentally I may say, however, he didn't know all about
them, for one day a wag set a trap for him by saying he had had a fine
bit of Botticelli at dinner.

"My dear sir," exclaimed our "authority," "Botticelli isn't a cheese;
he was a famous fiddler!"

"I have always had an impression he was an old master," said another
passenger, who was an amused listener.

It is impossible for any large body of travelers to escape the man who
by every device tries to impress his fellows with the idea that he is a
Mungo Park on his travels, and so our harmless impostor had his
"trunkage" plastered with labels from all parts of the world, sold to
him by hotel porters, who deal in them.  He wore the fez, of course,
and sported a Montenegrin order on his lapel; he had Turkish slippers;
he carried a Malacca cane; he wrapped himself in a Mohave blanket and
he wore a Caracas carved gold ring on his four-in-hand scarf.  But his
crowning effort was in wearing the great traveling badge, the English
fore-and-aft checked cap, with its ear flaps tied up over the crown,
leaving the front and rear scoops exposed.  Not all of the passengers
carried this array of proofs, but many dabbled in them just a little
bit.  It doesn't do, however, when assuming this role to have had your
hair cut in Rome, New York, or to have bought your "pants" in Paris,
Texas, for if you are guilty in those matters you will give the
impression of being a mammoth comique on his annual holiday.

The dear lady who delights in "piffle," and to whom "pifflage" is the
very breath of life, had also her niche in our affairs.  She hailed
from Egg Harbor and was an antique guinea hen of uncertain age.  When
you are thinking of the "white porch of your home," she will tell you
she "didn't sleep a wink last night!" that "the eggs on this steamer
are not what they ought to be," that the cook doesn't know how to boil
them, and that as her husband is troubled with insomnia her son is
quite likely to run down from the harbor to meet her at the landing two
months hence.  Then she will turn to the query by asking if you think
the captain is a fit man to run this steamer; if the purser would be
likely to change a sovereign for her; what tip she should give her
steward; whether you think Mrs. Galley-West's pearls are real, and
whether the Customs are as strict with passengers as they used to be;
whether any real cure for seasickness has yet been found, and why are
they always painting the ship?  Not being able to think of anything
else she leaves her victim, to his infinite relief.  Oh you! iridescent
humming-bird!

The men who yacht and those who motor are of course anxious to attract
attention.  The freshwater yachtsman (usually river or pond), plants
his insignia of office on his cap.  It is generally a combination of a
spread-eagle and a "hydriad," surrounded by the stars and stripes.
These things lift him above the level of those who would naturally be
his peers, and effect his purpose.  The motorer sports his car duster
on all possible occasions, and thinks his goggles are necessary to
protect his eyes from the glare of the sun on the deck of the steamer.
He has large studs of motors, and always proposes to keep in front of
the main squeeze.  The chatter relating to cars and yachts when these
men were in evidence was insistent and incessant.  You were never
allowed to forget for a moment that they owned cars, power boats and
runabouts, and that their tours averaged thousands of miles.  The man
from the stogie sections does not, of course, fear to fire his fusee in
this company and he always does it--it keeps up the steam.

A row of three extinct volcanoes was frequently to be seen seated side
by side in the smoking-room, where they recounted the scenes of their
youth with evident gusto.  One would recall the days of '49, spring of
'50, and tell his companions all about the excitement of mining in
those early times,--"Glorious climate, California!" was the way he
usually wound up his reminiscences.  Another would draw his picture of
the firing on Fort Sumter, and would assert that the battle of Antietam
in which he took part was the hottest of the war.  The favorite topic
of the third raconteur was the flush times on Oil Creek in the early
'60's, when he had drilled a dry hole near "Colonel Drake's" pioneer
venture.  And so it would go till it was time to "douse the glim."  One
thing they all agreed on--that the whiskey was good but the drinks were
small on the _Cork_.

[Illustration: THE PARTHENON, ATHENS, GREECE--THE MOST IMPRESSIVE RUIN
IN EXISTENCE]

There was a young southern Colonel on board who was a charming
companion and a good-natured, all-round fellow, always willing to do
anything for anybody, young or old.  The ladies soon found out his
weakness, and they "pulled his leg" "right hard," as he would have put
it.  When ashore he bought them strawberries, ice-cream, wine,
confectionery, lemonade, and anything else he could think of.  He was a
veritable packhorse, and many times when he was already loaded with
impedimenta they would, as a matter of course, toss him wraps,
umbrellas and fans, followed by photo's, _bric-à-brac_ and other
purchases, till the man was fairly loaded to the gunwales.  This they
would do with an airy grace all their own, remarking perhaps:

"Here, Colonel, I see you haven't much to carry; take this on board for
me like a good boy, won't you?"

He stood the strain like a Spartan to the bitter end, and when the trip
was over he, like Lord Ullen, was left lamenting in the shuffle of the
forgotten, and didn't even get a kiss in the final good-byes, when they
fell as thick as the leaves in Vallombrosa.

The most picturesque and amusing man on board was a Mexican rubber
planter from Guadalajara, known on the ship's list as Señor Cyrano de
Bergerac.  He hadn't a Roman nose--but that's a mere detail; he had a
Numidian mane of blue-black hair which swung over his collar so that he
looked like the leader of a Wild West show.  He was a contradiction in
terms: his voice proclaimed him a man of war, while all the fighting he
ever did, so far as we knew, was with the flies on the Nile.  To look
at him was to stand in the presence of a composite picture of
Agamemnon, Charles XII. and John L. Sullivan; but to hear him
_shout_--ah! that voice was the megaphone of Boanerges!  It held tones
that put a revolving spur on every syllable and gave a dentist-drill
feeling as they ploughed their way through space.  It was alleged that
when he struck his plantation and shouted at the depot as he leaped
from the train that he had arrived, all the ranch hands fell down and
crossed themselves, thinking it was the sound of the last trump and
their time had come.  We have no actual proof of it, but undoubtedly
these announcements were heard on Mars, and might better be utilized as
signals to that planet than anything that has yet been suggested.  He
had a fatal faculty of stringing together big words from Webster's
"Unabridged," and connecting them with conjunctions quite irrespective
of the sense, so that the product was like waves of hot air from a
vast, reverberating furnace.  It was the practice of this orator to
jump from his seat at all gatherings without warning, and make
detonating announcements on all kinds of subjects to the utterly
helpless passengers, the captain, the officers and the stewards.  These
hardy sons of the sea, who had often faced imminent danger, would
visibly flinch, set their faces and cover their ears till the ordeal
was over.  But they were never safe, as he made two or three
announcements daily, and they had to listen to his thunder in all parts
of the ship till it returned to New York.  His incessant shouting was a
flock of dinosauria in the amber of repose; it upset our nerves, but as
it added to our opportunities for killing time, many forgave him and
thought him well worth the price of admission.  In many respects his
disposition was kindly and generous; but oh, my! how he could and did
talk!

There were two men with us who represented a type known to the _Cork's_
other passengers as "the Impressionists."  When they came on board
orders were given in a loud voice as to the disposal of their luggage,
the chauffeurs were asked whether everything had been taken from the
cars, and the travelers then made their way to the chief steward.
After receiving a tip, that personage became satisfied that they were
deep enough in dry goods to entitle them to seats at an officer's
table, which were given them.  Their opportunity came next day when
they had donned their "glad rags," and stood in the centre of the
smoking-room.  A few minutes before the dinner gong sounded they drank
a Martini, and looked over the heads of the crowd with an air of
conscious superiority.  Dinner started, they surrounded themselves with
table waters and Rhine wines, ostentatiously popping corks and making a
great show of "bottlage" for very little money.  When they left their
seats they were _the_ men of the ship--in their own estimation; but
they had shot their bolt and could go no further, so they settled down
in a condition of social decay that became very distressing.  This
recalls an incident of Thackeray's: he once saw an unimportant looking
man strutting along the deck of a steamer.  Stepping up to him he said:

"Excuse me, sir, but are you any person in particular?"

Now we reach the post-card mania.  This is the most pernicious disease
that has ever seized humanity since the days of the Garden of Eden, and
in no better place can it be seen at its worst than on a steamer
calling at foreign ports: once it gets a foothold it supplants almost
all other vices and becomes a veritable Frankenstein.  It is harder to
break away from this habit than from poker, gossiping, strong drink,
tobacco, or even eating peas with your knife if you have been brought
up that way.  The majority of the "Corks" when landing at a port would
not have stopped to say "Good morning" to Adam, to take a peep at Bwana
Tumbo's hides and horns, or to pick up the Declaration of Independence
if it lay at their feet--in their eager rush to load up with the cards
necessary to let all their friends know that they had arrived at any
given place on the map.  This is but the first act in the drama, for
stamps must be found, writing places must be secured, pencils, pens and
ink must be had, together with a mailing list as long as to-day and
to-morrow.  The smoking-room is invaded, the lounge occupied, and every
table, desk and chair in the writing-room is preempted, to the
exclusion of all who are not addressing post-cards.  Although we toiled
like electrified beavers we got behind on the schedule, so that those
who did not finish at Malta had to work hard to get their cards off at
Constantinople, and so on through the trip.  The chariot of Aurora
would hardly hold their output at a single port.  At the start it was a
mild, pleasurable fad, but later it absorbed the victim's mind to such
an extent that he thought of nothing but the licking of stamps and
mailing of cards to friends--who get so many of them that they are for
the most part considered a nuisance and after a hasty glance are
quietly dropped in the waste-basket.  Many had such an extensive
collection of mailing lists that it became necessary to segregate them
into divisions; in some cases these last were labeled for
classification, "Atlantic Coast Line," "Middle West," "Canadian
Provinces," "New England," "Europe," etc.  Again they were subdivided
into trades and professions, such as lawyers, ministers, politicians,
stock brokers, real estate agents, bankers (in jail and out of it),
dermatologists and "hoss-doctors."  This habit obtained such a hold on
people who were otherwise respectable that they would enter into any
"fake," to gratify their obsession.  Some of the "Corks" did not tour
Spain but remained on the ship; many of these would get up packages of
cards, dating them as if at Cadiz, Seville or Granada, and request
those who were landing to mail them at the proper places, so as to
impose on their friends at home.  I felt no hesitancy, after silently
receiving my share of this fraud, in quietly dropping them overboard as
a just punishment for this impertinence.  Incidents like this will
account in part for the non-delivery of post-cards and the
disappointment of those who did not receive them.

Our Purser had what is known in tonsorial circles as a "walrus" or
drooping moustache; he was plied with so many foolish questions in
regard to this mailing business that he became very nervous and tugged
vigorously at this ornament whenever something new was sprung on him.
It is said that water will wear a hole in stone, and so it came to pass
that he pulled his moustache out, hair by hair, till there were left
only nine on a side.  The style of his adornment was then necessarily
changed to the "baseball," by which it was known to the "fans" on board.

The handling of this enormous output has already become an
international postal problem of grave importance in many countries; the
mails have been congested and demoralized, and thousands of important
letters have been delayed because Mrs. Galley-West would have her
friends on Riverside Drive thoroughly realize that she has got as far
as Queenstown on her triumphal tour, and that she and all the little
Galley-Wests are "feeling quite well, I thank you."

The ultimate fate of the post-card mania is as yet undecided.  It may,
like the measles or the South Sea Bubble, run its course and that will
end it; on the other hand, it may grow to such proportions that it will
shut out all human endeavor and bring commercial pursuits to a complete
standstill.  In any case its foundations are laid in vanity and
egotism, and that will eventually prove its undoing.



MADEIRA

We lit right out for Madeira, and after a pleasant but uneventful
voyage cast anchor in the harbor of Funchal, the capital, in less than
nine days.

The Madeira Islands are owned by Portugal, but the natives all wish
they were not and are most anxious to get under Uncle Sam's wing, _à
la_ Porto Rico.  The islands are of volcanic origin and some of the
mountain peaks are over six thousand feet high.  The climate is
delightful and the variation in temperature is not much over thirty
degrees.  Semi-tropical vegetation and flowers abound everywhere, and
the place is beautifully clad with verdure.  The natives have "that
tired feeling," and do just as little work as will earn them a scanty
living.  They, however, blame this condition on the Government.

The group was at one time celebrated for its wines, but a blight came
on the vines and the business of wine-making is greatly reduced;
besides, Madeira wine has gone out of fashion of late years.


FUNCHAL

The Madeirans dress like comic opera bandits and are very picturesque
in appearance, and while they look like Lord Byron's corsairs, they
never cut a throat nor scuttle a ship under any circumstances; they are
the mildest of men.  While strolling in the public market I noticed a
bit of local color: one of the fierce looking pirates had for sale half
a dozen little red pigs with big, black, polka dots on them.  I stopped
to look at them and the corsair insisted that I should buy one at least
and take it with me for a souvenir.

The principal feature of the place is that wheels are at a discount and
most of the locomotion is done by sliding.  The streets and sidewalks
are paved with large, oblong pebbles which become highly polished by
friction.  Over these the sleds, with oxen attached to them, glide with
ease, at the rate of three miles an hour.  On this account it's the
most tiresome place to walk in that I know of.  Even most of the
natives have stone-bruised feet and "hirple" along as if finishing a
six-day walk in "the Garden."

While we were there a Portuguese man-of-war entered the harbor and
there was a great waste of powder both from the forts and the
battle-ship.  The harbor was filled with little boats containing boys
and men who dive for the coins thrown into the water for them by the
passengers.  They never fail to reach the money.

I asked a gentlemanly native where the flower market was and he very
politely walked with me for three blocks and landed me in front of a
flour mill.  I explained his mistake and he then insisted on taking me
to where they sold flowers, at which point we had an elaborate
fare-welling--hat-lifting, laughing and handshaking.  I asked him to
visit me in New York, but he said with marked sadness in his voice that
he hadn't the price and therefore must forego the pleasure.

The passenger list of the _Cork_ being a large and notable one, the
City Club gave us a ball at the Casino.  It was alleged that the bluest
blood on the island took part in this, the largest function of the
season.

Madeira has been described by a distinguished traveler as "a neglected
paradise."  Part of this appearance is given it by the luxuriant growth
of the Bougainvillea vine which has rich purple flowers, masses of
which can be seen decorating the villas when one approaches Funchal
from the sea.  Madeira is some three hundred miles from Africa, and yet
when sand storms arise on that continent the sand is blown across the
sea and great mounds of it are piled up on this island; arrangements
have to be made to prevent it from entering the houses.

The main island, Madeira, is thirty-three miles long and thirteen
broad, with a population of 151,000.  Funchal has 50,000 inhabitants,
and is a quaint and interesting city.  The island was known to the
Romans, but was settled by Zargo in the interests of Portugal.
Columbus married his wife at this port.  Captain Cook bombarded Funchal
in 1768 and brought that city to his terms.  Napoleon was sent here on
his way to St. Helena in 1815.  So, on the whole, Madeira has had a
fair amount of checkered history.

The Casino was started as an imitation of Monte Carlo, but caused such
disaster that it was suppressed.  The Lisbon officials now visit it
once a year to see that there is no gambling going on; the owners know
when they sail and remove the tables, and after the "inspection" is
over and the officials have returned home, business is resumed in
safety and with the usual profit to the proprietors.

[Illustration: THE HISTORICAL PART OF ATHENS, GREECE.  PANORAMA OF THE
GREAT RUINED GROUPS]

The _Cork_ is one of the marine giants, and when all the first-cabin
rooms were sold the company painted up the second-cabin quarters and
sold them at full first-class rates.  I joined the party only a few
days before it started and was glad to get an outside, single room,
about the size and shape of a Pullman section.  Its distinction was
that it had a port-hole of its own through which I could freely admit
the local climate.  When I first surveyed the contracted proportions of
this stateroom, the paucity of its fittings and entire lack of the
usual accommodations, I was filled as full of acute melancholia as an
egg is of meat and had I not paid the passage money I would have bolted
from the _Cork_ out into utter darkness; but I was "in for it," and
determined to make the best of the situation; so I got some clothes
lines and screw hooks, and with them constructed a labyrinth of handy
landing nets for all my belongings, which resembled the telegraph wires
on Tenth Avenue before Mayor Grant cut them down.  I also hung my top
coat and mackintosh in convenient places, and used their pockets for
storage vaults.  One pocket served as a complete medicine chest,
another accommodated slippers, collars, cuffs and shaving tackle, while
I utilized the sleeve openings (closed at the cuffs with safety pins),
to hold a full line of clothes, hair and tooth brushes, and tied small
things to the buttons, which shook with the vibration of the ship as
sleigh-bells are shaken by the vaudeville artist when he plays _Comin'
Through the Rye_ on them for an encore.  The whole arrangement was a
marvelous and instantaneous success, and so proud was I of the
achievement that I invited my neighbors to peep into the stateroom to
see its glories and utilities.  Some of them proceeded at once to copy
my best ideas--but that is the fate of all inventors.  However, they
were grateful, for they named the passageway on which eight rooms
opened, "Harp Alley," in honor of my nationality, and placed a card
with this legend on it at the entrance:

  HARP ALLEY

  NIGHT & DAY HOUSE
  On the South Corner
  With a Port-Hole on the Side

  Hot Meals
  and
  Other Entertainments
  at all hours

  "WE NEVER SLEEP"


The rush of arrivals was so great that I was soon obliged to remove the
sign and "close the house."

But a great catastrophe was shortly to happen which cast a gloom over
the Alley and plunged us into a miniature _Republic_ disaster.  A big
salt water pipe was hung from the ceiling of the Alley passage; and
what do you think! under strong pressure it burst with a loud noise one
morning when we were dressing for breakfast and flooded the rooms of
the entire colony before we could say "Jack Robinson!"  Such a
scurrying into bath robes and jumping out of staterooms were never
seen!  I felt that owing to my high standing and responsible position
in the "Alley," and having in mind the fame of Binns (of the
_Republic_, the "wireless" hero of Nantucket shoals), it was incumbent
on me to ignore my personal effects and comfort in an attempt to save
the ladies and their _lingerie_ at any price.  So I slipped on my
trusty rain coat, and handed them out under a spread umbrella, one by
one, to a place of safety, I being the very last man to leave the Alley
and even then with reluctance.  But mind you, I never took my eyes off
the floor! they were glued to it all the while this transfer was being
made.  (Although when I afterward mentioned this circumstance, some
lady slung the javelin into me from ambush by saying
sarcastically--"Oh, yes indeed! 'glued to the floor' the way the
average man's eyes are riveted to the sidewalk when he passes the
Flatiron Building on a windy day!")  But I was determined to make it a
wholesale sacrifice, and I did it!  This Spartan performance was
generously rewarded, for I was added instanter to the _Cork's_ "Hall of
Fame" as the "Hero of the Deluge."

All our things were taken down to the furnace room and dried in a short
time, and the Alley quickly regained its dignity and composure.  I had
to repair the damages to my room, but soon got it in perfect running
order again; with added improvements it became a veritable Bohemian
dream and I would not have left it for worlds.  I could lie on my bed
and get a drink of water without rising, reach for a cigar, sew on a
missing button, open my treasury vaults to see how the funds were
holding out, and when dressing could sit down on my only seat, a
ten-cent camp stool, and take a short smoke while Steward Griffiths was
filling my bath tub.  But I was far from civilization, as the
first-cabin baths were up two deck flights, then down one and back
through a passage underneath where you started from; the round trip was
a ten minutes' walk.  I consoled myself with the reflection that it was
needed exercise and in the best interests of hygiene.

The delights of Funchal exhausted, we were off again for a visit to
Spain, landing after a short run at Cadiz.



SPAIN

CADIZ

There is not much to see in Cadiz but its Cathedral and the busy life
of its people, who number 70,000.  It is thoroughly calcimined in
chromatic tints and looks fine as you approach it from the sea, but
your enthusiasm wanes somewhat when you get into the picture and see
that there are many places where the gilt has been knocked off the
gingerbread and has not been put back again.  But we must all take off
our hats to the "old town," for it was there, indisputably, that
Columbus rigged up and started for America.  If he had only known what
he was about and the people had understood all that was to happen, they
would have had a brass band on the pier and have set off plenty of
skyrockets in the evening.  'Twas ever thus!  The "knockers" boo-ed him
from their shores and said he was crazy, but history plants his feet on
the topmost rung of fame long after the bitter end, when short commons
were with him uncommon short.


SEVILLE

The "Corkonians" took the train for Seville, and it was a corker in
length for it took three engines and all the first-class carriages in
Andalusia to carry us to our destination.

The management had about a carload of plaited straw lunch baskets and
filled them with good things, so we had a continuous picnic _en route_.
When we arrived we found almost every carriage in this city of 150,000
people lined up in a big square for the distribution of the party, as
the principle of procedure was, first come first served.  There was a
motion picture for you that lasted twenty minutes, but there was a
place for every man and every man had his place, so we were all
comparatively happy and started in to "do" the town.

Seville has one of the largest, finest and richest Gothic Cathedrals in
existence; it has absolutely everything that can in reason be demanded
of a cathedral, with or without price, including in part a full line of
old masters, headed by Murillo and Velasquez (who were born here);
bones of the good dead ones--and some bad ones--silver gilt organs, a
court of orange trees in full bloom, the Columbian library (established
by Fernando, Columbus' son), containing nothing but books, books,
books!  Then again there are _acres_--I was going to say--of stained
glass windows, but perhaps I had better stick to the simple truth and
say innumerable windows, showing every variation of the rainbow in
their brilliant, deftly interwoven tints.  Once more we find jewels of
great price, solid silver trophies (which before the slump in silver
would have placed any honest man above the corrosion of carking care);
and wood-carving by masters of the trade whose artistic feeling was
graphically described by our learned guide--known to the "Corks" as
"Red Lead," on account of the lurid color of his hair.  He wore an
Oscar Hammerstein opera hat and seemed condemned to live on earth but
for a certain time--and all whom he met wished for its speedy
expiration.  In a single, simple, instructive sentence he requested us
to "Joost look at dat figger and see how the master have carve them
feets; they are both two much alike."

[Illustration: CONSTANTINOPLE AND THE GOLDEN HORN CROSSED BY THE GALATA
BRIDGE, WITH STAMBOUL IN THE FOREGROUND.  THE YOUNG TURKS PRESENTED
THIS AS THE FIRST SNAP OF THEIR OFFICIAL CAMERA.  LATER THEY
"DEDICATED" THE BRIDGE BY HANGING THE FIRST BATCH OF MURDERERS ON IT]

Most of these things, and many more, were the gifts of King Charles V.,
King Ferdinand, Queen Isabella and others, with a Sultan or two thrown
in for good measure.  All this grandeur is spread over 124,000 square
feet, exceeded only a little by St. Peter's in Rome.

In the plethora of good things I had almost forgotten to mention the
Tomb of Columbus, a finely carved sarcophagus in solid bronze.  Heroic,
allegorical figures support it and it is an imposing coffin in every
respect.

The size of this great Cathedral is three hundred and eighty by two
hundred and fifty feet, and a week might be spent in seeking out the
vast treasures which run the gamut of art and money from its top round
to the bottom.  There are many other churches here, but to try to write
of them after attempting to describe the Cathedral would be like an
introduction to Tom Thumb after having spent the day with Chang, the
Chinese giant.  However, we can hardly overlook the Alcazar, which
"cuts" considerable "ice," even in this hot climate.  It is the palace
of the late Moorish kings, containing the famous Court of the Maidens
and the Hall of the Ambassadors.  It cost a good many millions of
_pesetas_ to erect its front elevations, not to speak of its elaborate
interior decorations, although the workmen only received two pence per
day, and they had a local "blue card" union at that.

The "Order of the Corks," both men and women, all went to see a grand
series of Spanish dances at the theatre, got up for their delectation
and amusement.  No band of enthusiastic pilgrims ever started in such
high feather to see a dramatic and terpsichorean feast as did we.
There was an expression of mystery and expectancy on every face.  Mary
Garden and all she does would be a mere flea bite to what we should see
of pure and simple naughtiness.  But alack and alas for our blasted
hopes and the human weakness that had been worked on by the adroit
press agent!  The show was a "fake:" there was nothing naughty about
it--and very little that was nice.  No refrigerating plant ever
contained a freezing room so dank, cold and gloomy as that theatre!
After the first act, the ladies--Heaven help them!--put on their furs;
in the second, an odd man or two began to sneak out, and by the time
the curtain rose on the last act there was hardly a soul in the house!
The weary "Corkonians" wended their way to the hotels in disconsolate
groups, and the simple but convincing words, "Stung again!" hung on
every lip as we toddled up the dark stairs to our beds, wiser but
sadder men.  There may be allurements in Andalusian dancing--but if
there are, we certainly did not see them.

In the cold, gray dawn of the next morning we gathered up our
belongings, and after an early breakfast, reinforced by another
"management" basket lunch, we made for the train.  An all-day's ride to
Granada was before us.  You see, you couldn't get anything to eat at a
Spanish station but garlic, onions and chocolate, so we had to prepare
for the worst.  "The worst" came all right, in the sanitary
arrangements at the stations (for there were none on the trains), but
we justly blamed all our troubles on Spain and not on the management of
the trip.  It all passed, however, like a summer cloud when we landed
in time for a late dinner at Granada.  Dinner over we went out and saw
some of the gay life of this famous city.  The local color was
there--in fact, it was highly colored; and as for "atmosphere," why,
the air was full of it!  The ladies squirmed a little, but the men
stood nobly by their guns till the last candle had been snuffed out;
and so we went to bed, after arranging to give a full day to the
Alhambra next morning, and slept the sleep of the just.


GRANADA

Morning came as usual with the rising sun, and we set out, twenty-five
to a guide.  I transmitted Mark Twain's name of "Billfinger" to our
man, and he was very much pleased by this notable mark of distinction;
in fact, he felt that he had to speak and act up to his title; but his
voice gave out in the second round, and he had to whisper his
historical jokes and quips about the harems to a "Cork" from Chicago,
who repeated them in a louder tone to the audience.  This man was a
human calliope, and had the voice of an African lion when out of meat.
His trained organ was so ear-piercing that much to "Billfinger's"
annoyance several ladies deserted our party and fled to one of the
other guides who had a soft, sweet voice.

The party was large and each guide was obliged to keep twenty minutes
behind the band before him.  This was done like clockwork, and yet,
such is the uncertainty of such arrangements and the intensity of the
human desire to get ahead of one's neighbors that, do as he would,
Billfinger was constantly butting his leaders into the rear of the
enemy--for such they were regarded, once the procession got into full
swing and the excitement had reached its zenith.  This led to endless
confusion, and the members of party No. 9 (our set) had to be fished
out and sorted from the ranks of Nos. 10 and 8, thus producing many
violent squabbles among the guides.  Adjustments were slow and by the
time they were made a general congestion had set in at the rear and the
"Corks" were all bobbing round in hopeless confusion, extending even to
the outer gates at which we had entered the citadel.  But the man with
the voice from Chicago now came into his own and showed how easily he
could quell a friendly riot.  He mounted a parapet and with a green
umbrella as a baton shouted back his orders, and they were obeyed with
such telling effect that in a short time the procession moved like a
well oiled machine and we had no further trouble.  By most of the
pilgrims it was considered that this was hardly a fitting or dignified
entrance into one of the noblest ruins of any time or country; but this
is a practical age, and we got right down to the business of inspecting
what is left of the Alhambra.  When such a man as Washington Irving was
so inspired by the marvelous beauty of this place and lived ninety days
in one of these buildings (which was pointed out to us by Billfinger),
in order to get the spirit of the times and place in which these halls
were erected and peopled, and there wrote his celebrated historical and
romantic book, _Tales of the Alhambra_, published in 1829 (obtainable
in any library), it would seem best that I leave the reader to peruse
that famous work for ideas and details which, should they be supplied
by the ordinary scribbler, could but belittle such a noble subject.  I
therefore suggest that those interested procure that book and read it
for themselves.

[Illustration: THESE SANDOWS OF STAMBOUL ARE CONSIDERED A HUSKY TRIO,
EVEN IN THIS CITY OF STRONG MEN.  IF THESE KEGS ARE FILLED WITH SOUR
MASH THEY'RE A MENACE TO THE WHISKEY TRUST AND OUGHT TO BE TAXED
ACCORDINGLY]

We went to bed early, for we had to rise long before daylight and take
the train for Gibraltar, where the _King of Cork_ lay waiting for us,
for she had steamed from Cadiz to "The Rock" after we left her; and
although we had enjoyed every minute of the trip, we were glad to get
back to the only home we had, on the water.

We had made quite a circuit through Spain, and it had been a most
interesting journey.  We had thought of Spain as a land of dust, sand
and rocky mountains, but instead of that we found broad, fertile
plains, well cultivated and with every sign of prosperity.  Above all
other things the feature of the country is the thousands of well kept
olive orchards; then there are sugar-cane, and grapes and other fruit,
in abundance.  Some of the buildings on the ranches are very fine and
imposing, reminding the visitor of English estates.  We were fortunate
in passing through the cork producing district, and saw the whole
process of barking the trees, cutting the bark in oblong squares and
stacking it up like lumber in a large yard.  The trees grow their bark
again after it is stripped off and from time to time it is again cut as
before.  At the first sight the "Corks" got of this industry, they
showed their interested appreciation by taking a thousand and one
snap-shots before the train left the station.

Most intelligent Spaniards will tell you that they were angry when we
took Cuba and the Philippines from them, but now they regard it as a
blessing in disguise, as they had no business with expensive colonies,
are better off at the present time than they have been for decades, and
hope for a new era of prosperity.  The largest blot on the country is
the cruel bull fighting, but their English Queen has set her face
against it and it is distinctly on the wane.


ALGERIA

When we had finished up the stereotyped sights of Gibraltar and had
thrown overboard a New Jersey insurance agent for criminally mentioning
"Dryden's Hole," that bewhiskered "chestnut," in connection with the
time-honored "Rock," we steamed across the Mediterranean to Algiers,
some four hundred and ten miles away.  Algeria has a water front of six
hundred miles, and extends back two hundred and fifty from the shore.
It was conquered by the Romans in 46 B.C.; subsequently the coast of
Barbary became the dread of every ship that sailed the sea.  With
varying success, many nations, including Spain, France, England and the
United States (fleet commanded by Commodore Decatur), took a hand in
trying to tame the horde of cut-throat pirates who for centuries
committed unspeakable atrocities and cruelties.  It is hard to realize
that only seventy-five years ago these sanguinary pirates held complete
sway on the Mediterranean, and that England alone had six thousand of
her subjects captured and enslaved by them in 1674.  It is estimated
that six hundred thousand from all the nations were captured and worked
to death in chains.  This spot is the "chamber of horrors" in all human
history.  To the French belongs the honor of finally taming these
wretches and drawing their claws.  Algeria is now a French colony, is
well ordered and quite safe for the visitor.

This people is made up of many breeds: we saw thin, bandy-legged Arabs,
fat, burly Turks, ramrod-like Bedouins; Kalougis, with a complexion
suggesting old sole leather; Greeks, with frilled petticoats; Romans,
of course with the toga; Kabeles, with black hair and wearing a robe
like a big gas-bag; Moors, with the Duke's nose and spindle shanks;
Mohammedans, carrying bannocks with holes in them; and dragomans, with
"_bakshish_" stamped on every department of their anatomy.  But beneath
the furtive glance and in the wicked eyes you see the cut-throat still
lurking, awaiting the first opportunity to embark again in the trade
that is close to their hearts, although the only active pirates here
now are the cab drivers.

Every breed has its own outlandish costume with a large range of
startling colors in robes, turbans and slippers, but their shanks are
bare, thin and brick red, an easy mark for flies.  A considerable
percentage of their time is devoted to stamping their feet to shake off
these pests, which somehow do not seem to know they are not wanted and
keep the lazy rascals busy, thus preventing them from devoting the
entire day to sleep and the worship of Allah.

To round out the picture we must not forget the French Zouave
regiment--fine-looking men, with their elaborately frogged jackets, and
trousers like big red bags, large enough to make balloons if filled
with gas, and the whole topped off with a scarlet, "swagger" fez with a
tassel hanging down to the waist.

Algeria has a population of about 5,000,000, while the town of Algiers
contains 140,000 people.  The climate is tropical with plenty of rain.
Oranges, lemons, pineapples, dates, figs, cocoanuts and spices are seen
everywhere.  There is a fine, tropical, public garden-park, and the
Governor's Palace with its grounds makes a handsome showing in flowers
and fruits.  French officialdom strikes a gay and festive note
everywhere, and the very latest Parisian novelties are seen on the
streets.  They have motor cars, but it must be confessed that these do
not as yet class with a Studebaker "Limousine."

The passengers slept on the _Cork_ at the wharf.  They tried one meal
at the hotel, with the ship's stewards assisting, but did not essay a
second.  Seven hundred in two relays would have tested the ability of
Mr. Boldt, but still when the battle was over we had all had enough; in
fact, the management came out with flying colors in this severe test.

Perhaps at this point it might be interesting to report on the progress
that the Alley had made since it was last mentioned.  The development
of ship characters takes time, and the big men and women do not pop at
once into the lime-light.  There were other alleys and some of them
contained hidden stars.  It was our business to lasso these (just as
base-ball players are "signed"), and annex them to the Alley, so with
this in mind and hat in hand we approached the haughty but accomplished
Purser (with a big P), the man who is covered with gold lace and
clothed with vast responsibility; who, in fact, holds the destinies of
the ship in the hollow of his hand.  We laid our case before him and
said we wanted "Gassigaloopi" from Alley No. 9, the two "Condensed
Milkmaids" with their chaperon from the midship flats, and "Fumigalli,"
who bunked near the condenser.  The great man of course frowned and
pulled his "walrus"--the kind that has hanging, hairy selvages on it,
such as serve as warnings for "low bridge" on the railroads--smote his
desk firmly, and said it would never do!  However, we could clearly see
that beneath the mask of his importance he was jubilant over the
knowledge of his power, and that if we could only pull some other
string we would gain our object; so we inveigled the queen of the
poop-deck into joining hands with us, and the day was won without
further effort.  Then with joy and gladness we informed the new people
whom we had delighted to honor of their social elevation, and with
willing hands we carried their belongings down in triumph to Harp
Alley.  Two of the staterooms had been vacated at Gibraltar, and so all
difficulties connected with the transfer were easily overcome.
"Gassigaloopi" was a tower of strength in himself; he was a retired
Italian politician and spoke so many languages that when he got excited
he mixed them thoroughly, utterly routing all contestants in any
arguments that might come up.  He was a human geyser, and when his
linguistic power got under full headway he fairly tore up all the
tongues by their roots and trampled them under foot in the rush of his
stinging invective.  Although of Italian origin, "Gassy" was born near
the site of the Tower of Babel, and its propinquity and influence gave
him that varied volubility in expressing fine shades of meaning in many
languages that made him the pride of the profession of which he was a
distinguished light.  His ebullitions were frequently hurled at the
"boots" for neglecting his oxfords, placed outside his stateroom door,
but soon afterward he became himself again, much to the general joy of
the Alley.

[Illustration: THE ABDICATION OF THE SULTAN, ABDUL HAMID II.--HIS LAST
RIDE THROUGH THE STREETS OF CONSTANTINOPLE]

"Fumigalli" smoked so much that he gave all his time to thought, and we
used him to plan future triumphs for us.  Though he thought much he
produced but little.  We all knew that he was evolving great projects
mentally, but somehow he could not get them out in front of the
spot-light.  His one great achievement was calling a meeting of protest
against the Señor's boredom in the smoking-room.  The meeting was held
and two resolutions were drafted to be read at dinner in the saloon;
but somehow no one liked to hurt the Señor's feelings, and they were
never read.

The "Condensed Milkmaids" were a pair of small, temperamental, clever
girls, so trim and smart that one would think they had just left the
Trianon Dairy Farm in Versailles Park, after having milked a pint of
cream for the Queen, or for the royal favorite, Comtesse Du Barry.
They wore Louis the XIV. (Street) high-heeled slippers, and were purely
decorative.  Having no part in the executive management they knew their
place and kept it.

A young lady and her mother from New England (both members), gave the
Alley a boost at the last concert.  The daughter played a violin solo,
accompanied by her mother, with such attack, feeling and technique that
if Paganini had been on earth he would have taken off his hat to her.

It is perhaps true that the Alley had no tremendous personages in its
membership, but its innate strength lay in this weakness for it
represented the very embodiment of what is known as the concrete social
spirit, "one for all, all for one," and with this motto it might
have--and really did--stand against the entire ship.  Neither the
Purser, the Captain nor the crew dared oppose its opinions or wishes;
in fact, the Alley thought of running down to Zanzibar and taking a
whack at the lions before "Bwana Tumbo" even saw them.  We don't like
to brag, but one of our members could, with one eye shut, hit any
button on the metal man's coat in the shooting gallery, and with both
shut could bring down a wildebeeste.  The mission of the Alley and its
fate now lie in the "womb of time," and we must not hustle its destiny
but calmly await developments.



MALTA

We left for Malta, which was reached in two days, and cast anchor in
the harbor of Valetta, the capital.  The island is celebrated as the
home of the Knights of Malta, the original birth-place of the Maltese
cat, and the spot where the Maltese cross was invented--but not
patented.  This island was conquered by the Romans 259 B.C.; afterward
by Napoleon, from whom it was taken by England in 1800, and now indeed
it's "quite English, you know."  Oh my! how English it is, to be sure!
It's nothing but Tommy Atkins here, and Files-on-parade there;
battle-ships "beyant," and cruisers in the "offin'," mixed up with
gunboats and bumboats and "gund_u_las," till you would think you were
standing on the pier at "Suthampton."

The marine bands mostly play _Rule Britannia_, but some of them essay
_Annie Laurie_, and when these airs get mixed, it would try the soul of
Richard Wagner to stand the discord without resorting to profanity.
Anyway, Mr. Bull has this island all to himself.  Its fortifications
and harbor are the finest to be found on the globe, but how sad to
think they have been rendered useless by the modern battle-ship with
the long guns.  (I was going to say the "long greens," as they and
battle-ships always go together, no matter who pays the taxes.) But
still it charms the visitor with its fine climate and gay people.  It
was Carnival Day when we arrived, and the motley crowds in the street,
in variegated raiment, pelted the "Corks" with all kinds of flowers
with the utmost good humor.

There is a church on the water-front that is lined with the skulls and
bones of the various armies of defenders: its name is "Old Bones,"
which certainly bears out its character.

A whole lot might be written about how the Knights of Malta became very
great, then very small and degenerate, and finally were pushed into the
discard by the relentless hands of time and public opinion.  Valetta
has quite a number of people living there besides the soldiers and
sailors, some 80,000 I believe, but most of them are tired of climbing
the steep streets, many of which contain stairs.  Lord Byron, having a
game foot, got angry at them when he wrote:

  "Adieu, ye cursèd streets of stairs,
  How surely he who mounts you swears!"


We were shown the spot where St. Paul was ship-wrecked.  The Maltese
erected a colossal statue to Paul on Selmoon Island about fifty years
ago.  They hold an annual feast there on February 10th, the alleged
date of his shipwreck, and as they have two hundred additional feast
days they have just one hundred and sixty-four days left for their
regular business--loafing.  They have novel names for their hotels and
saloons,--the "Sea and Land Hotel," "The Pirates' Roost" saloon, the
"Quick Fire" lunch-room, "The Englishers' Chop-House," and "The Camel's
Drink," are some examples.  Not from greed, but purely out of
curiosity, mind you, we tested the latter, and it would have taken
three of what they gave us to make a regular "Waldorf highball."  Thus
does the retributive principle of temperance put the rod in pickle for
those who would fool with its beneficent laws.



GREECE

We left Malta and had Greece before us, which we reached in two days.
Lord Byron aptly describes it in his famous poem which opens with:

  "The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
    Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
  Where grew the arts of war and peace,--
    Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
  Eternal summer gilds them yet,
  But all, except their sun, is set."


ATHENS

The Acropolis, or rocky mountain on which the celebrated group of
buildings is found, was fortified more than a thousand years before
Christ.  It is the central spot of all that is greatest in art,
letters, history, statecraft and philosophy since time began.  This has
been the undisputed opinion of critics and historians for about three
thousand years and stands uncontradicted to-day as it did in the very
beginning of things learned and artistic.

[Illustration: MEHEMET V., THE NEW SULTAN, AFTER THE INVESTITURE,
LEAVING THE MOSQUE]

You are met toward the top of the ascent by the Propylaea that
"brilliant jewel set on the rocky coronet of the Acropolis" as a kind
of introductory vestibule to further greatness.  It is the most
important secular work in Athens, consisting of a central gateway and
two wings.  It was begun in 439 B.C.  It contains a wealth of Doric
marble columns, beautiful, carved friezes and metopes, with five
gateways spanned by great marble beams twenty feet long.  All these
wonders compel the stranger to stand spellbound at the magnificence of
their combined effect.

Near by stands the Temple of Athena Nike, and close at hand is the site
of Phidias' colossal statue of Athena Promachos, the "fighter of the
van," made of the spoils taken from the Persians at the battle of
Marathon; sixty-six feet high, in full armor, her poised lance was
always a landmark for those approaching Athens.

We now reach the temple, attached to which is the Portico of the
Maidens, the Caryatides, and containing the shrine of Athena Polias.

Next comes the great Parthenon, "the most impressive monument of
ancient art," built by Pericles in 438 B.C.  It was adorned by statues
and monuments by Praxiteles, Phidias and Myron.  It had fifty statues,
one hundred Doric columns, ninety-two metopes, and five hundred and
twenty-four feet of bas-relief frieze, thus realizing the highest dream
of plastic art and the immortality of constructive genius.  Within the
inner sanctuary Phidias placed his chryselephantine figure of Athena
Parthenos, the virgin, thirty-nine feet high, the flesh parts being in
ivory and the garments of fine gold.  It is estimated that this gold
was worth almost 200,000 pounds.  For more than six centuries the
virgin goddess received here the worship of her devoted votaries.  In
the fifth century the Parthenon became a Christian church; when the
Turks came they made it a mosque.  The edifice remained in good
preservation till the seventeenth century.  In 1687 the Venetian,
Morosini, besieged Athens and a shell from one of his guns ignited the
powder which the Turks had stored in the Parthenon.  A destructive
explosion followed and thus the most magnificent structure of the ages,
which twenty-one centuries had spared, was reduced to ruins.  What
remains of it is still most majestic and when seen by moonlight
inspires the greatest reverence.  There is no speculative guess-work in
these statements, for in 1674 Jacques Carrey made a series of one
hundred careful drawings of the Parthenon, which were confirmed by two
English travellers, Messrs. Spon and Wheler, in 1675.  These were the
last visitors who saw it before its destruction.

The Acropolis Museum is also built on the hill.  It contains many
interesting things that could not be allowed to remain exposed to the
weather.

The vast Theatre of Dionysius, which held 30,000 people, is also here.

There are many other fine buildings, statues and temples on the
Acropolis, but space will not permit of their description.

We descend to a lower plateau and there find the remains of the vast
Temple of Zeus Olympus, called by Aristotle, "a work of despotic
grandeur," "in accordance," as Livy adds, "with the greatness of the
god."  It contained an immense statue of Zeus.  Originally it had more
than one hundred imposing marble Corinthian columns, arranged in double
rows of twenty each on the north and south sides, and triple rows of
eight each at the ends.  Its size was three hundred and fifty-three by
one hundred and thirty-four feet, which was exceeded only by the Temple
of Diana.  To its left is the Arch of Hadrian.  Looking east is seen
the Stadium or racecourse.  Here the Pan-Athenian games were held in
olden times.  It was laid out in 330 B.C., and has been restored in
solid white marble by a rich Greek.  It cost a large sum of money and
will accommodate a multitude of spectators.  The first year in which
the revival of the games took place the Greek youths won twelve out of
twenty-seven prizes, the others going to various nationalities.

[Illustration: HANGING THREE LEADERS OF THE ARMENIAN MASSACRE ON THE
GALATA BRIDGE, CONSTANTINOPLE, MAY 3, 1909]

Beyond in the suburbs lies the public park owned by Academus in the
fifth century before Christ.  Plato and many other philosophers taught
their pupils here, and from the name of the owner is derived the word
academy.

These are but a few of the commanding sights of Athens.  No attempt
will be made to speak of the men and the wars that made her the _multum
in parvo_ of human history.  The modern Greeks are a serious and decent
people; they seem to be impressed with the fact that their ancestors
were the salt of the earth, and at least try to be worthy of them.
There is no begging in the streets (the Greeks being too proud to beg),
and the people are quite respectable for their opportunities.  Their
city is well laid out and built in modern style; it is prospering,
having had only 45,000 inhabitants in 1870, while the population is now
150,000.  One cannot afford to treat either the Greeks or Athens
flippantly; they are worthy of the highest praise and respect.



TURKEY

CONSTANTINOPLE

After leaving Greece we threaded our way through the islands of the
Aegean Sea, the Dardanelles, the Sea of Marmora and the Bosphorus, to
Constantinople, where we anchored at the mouth of the Golden Horn.  I
must leave to the historian the dramatic and sensational history of the
capital of Turkey in its various shifts of ownership; perhaps no other
city has surpassed it as a factor in European affairs for a period of
two thousand years.  It was named after Constantine, the Roman Emperor,
who was its chief builder.  He tried to call it New Rome, but this
title would not stick.  On the Galata Bridge that leads to Stamboul, a
racial panorama may be seen that embraces all the peoples of the
Orient, and everywhere signs appeal in half a dozen languages.  The
private histories of its rulers have also been of the most absorbing
and exciting character, and were they described by a pen of authority
and with the necessary inside knowledge and information they would
still further shock and astonish the uninformed.

The city was founded by the Dorian Greeks some seven hundred years
before the beginning of the Christian era; later the Persians captured
it, then the Romans came and took charge.  The Goths were the next men
in possession, followed by Basil of Macedonia, who became Dictator.
Then Mohammed was the man of destiny: the city fell into his hands and
from that day to this the "unspeakable Turk" has ruled it.  All these
changes were brought about by battles at sea and on land, by sieges and
through treachery, and with great loss of life, treasure and time.

We employed a guide to take us to the Mosque of Sancta Sophia and the
other principal show places.  This man had formerly called himself
"Teddy Roosevelt," but he changed his name to "George Washington Taft,"
in honor of our worthy President, thus making his cognomen thoroughly
American and bringing it up to date at a stroke of the pen; but we told
him this was no kind of a name for a guide in Turkey, and then and
there changed it to "Muley-Molech;" he was much pleased with his new
historical title.  "Muley-Molech" had a nose of vast proportions--while
not so large as the _Lusitania's_ helm, yet it was exactly the same
shape; and he wore a moustache that ended in large, hirsutical
corkscrews; his teeth were like small bits of marble stained with
tobacco juice, and they had the effect of an arc made from the spear of
a sword fish, grim and terrible.  Altogether he was a remarkable
man--one to be feared at night when near the Bosphorus; although, if
the bitter truth must be told, he avoided impartially both salt water
and fresh, whenever possible.  My word!  "Muley" was no ordinary,
amateur Munchhausen! he was full of exact statements which he encrusted
with legends that were utterly bare-faced.  After hearing one of his
flights of fancy, a fat brewer from the West remarked:

"It's better not to believe so much or to know so many facts that
aren't so; but this is the devil of a place, anyhow; that's right!"

Muley looked at him with fine scorn and went on at his usual gait.
Later I told him (Muley), the story of the Irish judge who once said to
a prisoner whom he was about to sentence:

"We don't want anything from you but silence--and very little of that!"

This hint had a depressing effect, and Muley lost his nerve and the
character he had enjoyed with us of being a picturesque and fearless
liar.

Sancta Sophia was built in Stamboul across the Golden Horn by the
Emperor Justinian in 537 A.D. (fire having destroyed the edifice
originally erected by Constantine and replaced by the church built by
Theodosia, which was also burned).  The dome is one hundred and eighty
feet from the floor.  To adorn it, the Temple of Diana at Ephesus was
ravaged of eight serpentine columns, and eight more of porphyry were
taken from the Temple of the Sun at Baalbek to add to its beauty.  It
is alleged that its cost approached $64,000,000, including the "graft."
Its artistic value is greatly depreciated by the squalor of its
environment.  Looking at this great pile, a speculative wag remarked,
with a twinkle in his eye:

"It's all a question of money.  Give me the financial assistance of J.
D. R., and with one of the big American construction companies to take
the contract I can produce a building fully equal to this in less time
and for very much less money."

He was right.  It would be only a question of deciding to do it.  The
Landis' comic-opera fine would be sufficient.

The Sultan's Palace and the ancient Hippodrome are also places of great
interest.  In the latter were deposited the four gilded bronze horses,
supposed to have been brought from Scio, once mounted on Trajan's Arch
at Rome, brought here by Constantine.  They were taken to Venice by
Dandolo, then Napoleon gave them to Paris, and finally after Waterloo
they were restored again to St. Mark's at Venice.

In Constantinople we also saw three or four other Mosques of great
size, and the Seraglio grounds and Palace.  In the latter we saw the
gates through which the odalisks who had lost the sultan's favor passed
beyond to be executed.  The passage of this gate made our flesh creep
when we thought of all it meant to the unfortunates; but near by, in
agreeable contrast, is the "Gate of Felicity," which is the entrance to
the sultan's harem.  Through this the new favorites entered and
remained till they had grown old and lost their charm.

[Illustration: "THE MOOSKI," CAIRO.  THERE ARE MILES OF STREETS IN THIS
ARTISTIC MARKET WHERE RUGS, TAPESTRIES, LACES, AND ORIENTAL
_BRIC-A-BRAC_ MAY BE SECURED BY THE ANXIOUS AT AN ALARMING SACRIFICE.
EVERY MINUTE IS A BARGAIN DAY]

The Imperial Ottoman Museum is full of good things purloined from other
art centres.  It contains many fine examples of Greco-Roman sculptures,
statues and reliefs, in marbles, terra-cotta and bronze.  The figures
of dancing women have a swing and their draperies a palpable swish--as
if a breeze were stirring them--seen only in this school of art.  It
also contains Alexander the Great's sarcophagus, which is regarded as
one of the finest examples of Greek art in existence.

The Grand Bazaar is both a sight and a town in itself, full of streets,
entries, lanes and alleys, covered here and there as an arcade, into
which the sun never penetrates.  The dim light, the great crowds of
strangely costumed people,--veiled women with their children in hand,
attended by eunuchs, some chattering, some silent and aloof--but all
intent on bargaining and eager for the fray.  This novel and engrossing
picture is made possible and is enhanced by the bewildering variety and
display of Oriental goods and wares--rugs, perfumes, cosmetics,
weapons, shawls, embroideries, inlaid tables, porcelains, brassware,
silks, fans, jewels, laces, gold and silver ornaments of infinite
variety--all piled up and strewn about as if they had been pitchforked
by some magician into an enchanted market-place, with the god of greed
and chance presiding.

[Illustration: SAMPLES Of CONSTANTINOPLE'S BRAND OF "WHITE WINGS."
IT'S A SIGHT FOR GODS AND MEN TO SEE THESE JOLLY DOGS GOBBLE THE
TURKISH TIDBITS AFTER THE SUN HAS SET]

Limited space forbids the further description of things that are
wonderful and interesting, but a few words must be said in regard to
facts we would rather not think about.  The population is about
1,125,000, and most visitors think there is a mangy, flea-bitten dog
for each inhabitant; but the official dog census has placed the canine
population at about 125,000.  The dogs of Stamboul and Constantinople
are a necessity and a book might be written about them alone, as they
have ruled these cities from a sanitary point of view for over a
thousand years.  If they did not set out at night and partially clean
up the town, Heaven only knows what it would be like!  Their sway is
undisputed, and woe betide him who either hurts or kills them--he is a
marked man, not only by the Moslems but by the followers of other
religions.  They have no distinctive owners and just live by their
wits, which are keen to an advanced degree; they have rules of the road
of their own making, and the luckless cur that breaks them is put out
of business in the twinkling of an eye.  No one likes them, but they
are a thoroughly protected nuisance, for that protection means life to
the people.  Without their services as devourers the population would
die like flies, from epidemics and pestilence.  All attempts at doing
away with the dogs have resulted in riots and bloodshed: when Mehemet
II. rounded them up and exiled them to an island, a great epidemic
immediately set in and the rioters compelled the Sultan at the point of
the sword to bring them back again.  A later attempt was made by an
Ottoman chief-of-police to deport these canine "white wings" to Asia
Minor: he threw them overboard when out of sight of land, and when this
was made public the mob literally tore him limb from limb.  So it does
not pay to monkey with the Sultan's pets in the home of their nativity.
Although no one would suspect it, they have a high order of
intelligence and an acute instinct for local government.  By some
unwritten law they divide the town into districts with sharply defined
boundaries invisible to the human eye, yet plainly apparent to the
animal.  If an intruder crosses this line he is sorry for it before he
reaches his first bone.  The neighboring dogs pounce on him from all
directions, biting his legs, tail and ears, but stopping short when
they in turn reach the line, for fear they may also get into trouble
for trespassing.  When one of the members of a district becomes sick
and helpless his comrades do not wait for him to die; they just eat him
up and have done with it.  So no one ever sees a dead dog in Stamboul:
professional pride and _esprit de corps_ step in, and the victim is
wafted to the happy hunting grounds in less time than it takes to tell
of it.

The porters are celebrated for their great strength and the big loads
they can carry.  To see them do their work is a most interesting sight:
four of them will carry a great cask filled with fluid and suspended
from two poles placed on their shoulders--a fair load for a team of
horses.  They carry these loads with the aid of ingenious appliances
and harness, and the amount of lumber, coal, dressed beef and live
animals they transport for short distances is simply incredible.

Soldiers are drilling everywhere and a raw lot they are.  The treasury
is empty, and many of them have only one shoe, and some none at all,
only a coarse stocking bound round with rags.  They may be experts at
killing women and children, but they would make a sorry showing against
trained soldiers.  And then there are the "battleships:" fierce,
devilish-looking bulldogs that could demolish any tin-lined fort in
existence if they could only hit it, or even if the sailors could
manage to fire the guns--or in fact, if only the guns could be fired by
any one--which is exceedingly doubtful.

In smells, the vilest of the vile, including the acrid variety that
cuts the nostrils like a razor, Constantinople stands forever and alone
on a plinth of infamy, and no language that can be dragged into the
arena of expression can be utilized to describe them.  They paralyze
the intellect and dull the sense of punishment and acute agony.  No
gladiator could enter the lists with them in deadly combat and live to
tell the tale.  They arise in part from the debris and remnants of
cheese whose position in the flight of time was contemporaneous with
that of Alexander the Great; from fish that must have darted beneath
the keels of the ships at the battle of Salamis; from tallow, used to
grease the chariot wheels at the battle of Marathon (now sold as
butter); and from the embalmed beef that was left over from the Crimean
War.  These with many powerful additions supply the main force and
foundation of all this pervading "sweetness;" but the distinguishing
"high lights" come from minor causes, such as the onions of last year
rotting in nets hanging in the sun, strings of garlic returned to
circulation by the Argonauts when they came back from hunting the
golden fleece, but now hung as a badge of trade on the door-jambs; and
the frying of eggs, that have long lost their market value, with Bombay
_ghee_ and young garlic, the whole mellowed and perhaps refined by the
continual vapors from open sewers.  One fragrance that perhaps tickles
the olfactory nerve with more delicacy than all others and might be
called a perfumed "dream," comes from baking a garlic pie piping hot in
the open, with Turkish Limburger as a substantial ingredient.  This
zephyr when in full action sets at naught the vain attempt of
asafoetida to hold its place in the history of smells that used to rank
with Araby the Blest.  If Alexander had inhaled one whiff of this
combination in its full purity it would have floored him in
Constantinople and he could not have lived to conquer the world.  One
of the "Corks" fainted when he hit the embalmed beef zone and was taken
to the rear in a red cross ambulance.

[Illustration: A CROWD AT THE CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE, JERUSALEM,
WAITING FOR THE DOORS TO OPEN.  EACH TRIBE IS IMPATIENT TO ENTER AND
OCCUPY ITS OWN SPACE]

The sights in these places are too dreadful for publication, and as for
the taste--well, I tried a speck of fried sausage and thought I had
touched a live wire! it left a scar on my tongue.  We made a special
excursion to see these sights and experience the smells.  The driver of
our carriage took advantage of a stop to take a drink at a Turkish
_café_; the procession of vehicles began to move, and as we were in the
middle of it our horses had to move too.  This left us without a driver
and I had to mount his seat and drive half a mile at a walk before our
man caught up with us.  In the crowded, narrow streets this experience
was not a pleasant one, but I did the best I could and nothing happened
of note excepting that in turning a sharp corner the team ran up on the
sidewalk, from which I was chased with wild gestures and eastern
profanity by a Turkish son of a wooden gun, much to the amusement of
the natives and the rest of the procession.  Still, the Turks, who are
steeped in these conditions, seem to enjoy them: they laugh and joke at
the unsuccessful attempts of the outlander to acquire their tastes.  If
they are happy, why should we object?

[Illustration: THIS IS QUEEN HATSHEPSET'S DER-AL-BAHARI TEMPLE AT
THEBES, ORNAMENTED WITH FINE GOLD.  THE ORIGINAL METHODS BY WHICH
"HATTY" SWIPED THE MONEY TO BUILD THIS TEMPLE LEAVE WALL STREET TIED TO
THE HITCHING POST AT THE SUB-TREASURY STEPS]

The costumes of the Turk are without number: there is no cut nor
pattern of garment that is not embraced in their fashion plates and the
colors run riot through all the gamut of the rainbow.  But, seriously,
they beat all other nations in the arrangement of their head-dress; no
Turk is too poor or too low in caste to devote his time and attention
to what he wears on his head.  Of course, the rich ones have immense
turbans, woven with stranded ropes of cloth in bright parti-colors,
placed on the head as a finish to the toilet with as much care as a
wedding cake is posed on a table; but the _poor_ Turk takes a red fez
as a basis to build on, and will, with cheese-cloth, or a strip of old
toweling, or a wisp of worn-out silk and some feathers, turn out an
effect that it is almost impossible to imitate even where ample
facilities are at hand.  Some of them wear their turbans well back on
the head, some pitched forward, many with a rake to the side; but all
with the artistic instinct that compels instant admiration.  They are
the "old masters" of headgear and their masterpieces may be seen by the
thousand in any crowded street.

[Illustration: OUR HOSPITABLE HOST AND HOSTESS IN THEIR SALON WHERE
THEY ENTERTAINED US AT JERUSALEM]

About the time we were in Constantinople, the new Turkish political
force known the world over as the "Young Turks' movement," was just
springing into life.  The members of this body were eager to meet and
mix with visitors and obtain their views and opinions of the
probabilities of success, and a general endorsement of their work; so
it was no trouble to have them visit us on the _Cork_, as she lay at
anchor at the mouth of the Golden Horn.  We conversed with them freely
and listened to the recital of their wrongs and how they proposed to
right and correct them.  Political corruption and "graft," they said,
were rampant everywhere, destroying the country and blighting every
enterprise and industry.  A Young Turk told me that many manufactories
would be started were it not that the rapacity of the horde of petty
officials was such that all must get a share of the spoils before a
license could be granted, and that paying this toll would amount to
much more than the cost of the factory.  From the sultan down to the
smallest custom house official, all must get a squeeze out of the
victim whom they meet in any kind of business.  The appellation, "The
Sick Man of the East," presents in brief the picture of an unwholesome
looking man, who is allowed to sit tight on his throne and plunder his
people because the Powers can't agree on the division of his empire.
When one looks at Abdul in his carriage one sees at a glance a
coffee-colored knave who, when he gazes at the crowd from behind the
mask of his face, is simply engaged in scheming a new twist in "graft,"
and wondering whether or not they can stand it and live.  The Sultan is
an expert pistol-shot and has killed many native visitors without the
slightest proof that they were about to do him harm; if they made a
suspicious movement of any kind he shot them down in cold blood and had
them thrown into the Bosphorus.  Abdul had an eye on the main chance
and did not consider it wise to have all his eggs in one basket, so he
deposited the hundred million dollars he wrung from his people--what is
called his "private fortune"--in banks all over the world.  The Young
Turks are after this "pile," and he is not likely to retain it all and
save his neck from the rope.  Perhaps his most horrible crime was
instigating the annihilation of 360,000 Armenians: this act alone
places him on the pedestal of infamy for all time.  But the pedestal is
rocking, and his hour is near at hand.  His territory in Europe has
shrunk from 230,000 to 60,000 square miles.  In a little while there
won't be much left to divide, but there are other forces at work, and
these serious natives tell you that nothing can now stop the progress
of the task they are engaged in and that the days of the sultan are
numbered.  We believed in their sincerity and determination, and wished
them every success.  As a wind-up it will perhaps amuse the reader to
note the high-sounding list of titles that the sultan--this "cutpurse
and king of shreds and patches"--has given to himself.  Here they are,
all fresh roasted, with a few added words to fill in the interstices of
his portrait:

THE SULTAN'S TITLES

"Abdul Hamid, Beloved Sultan of Sultans, Emperor of Emperors;"

"The Shadow of God upon the Earth;"

"Brother of the Sun"--(_Times_ and _Tribune_);

"Dispenser of Crowns"--(half-crowns and tu'penny-bits)--"to Those who
Sit upon Thrones"--(and gunny-bags);

"Sovereign of Constantinople"--(and of all its mangy, flea-bitten dogs);

Easy Boss of Broussa, as well as Damascus, which is the "Scent of
Paradise;"

"King of Kings"--(and two-spots); whose army is the asylum of "graft"
and dummy guns; at the foot of whose throne sits Justice with the
bandage off one eye so she can watch the coin!


SMYRNA

We left Constantinople without regret and steamed up into the Black
Sea, making a circle in it, and then returned down into the Sea of
Marmora, so as to get a good view of both the Asiatic and European
sides of the city; then out, through the Dardanelles and on to Smyrna.
This passage was all over classic ground, and every mile of it has made
history for thousands of years.

Smyrna has 225,000 people, and is the cleanest and most respectable
city the Turks own.  In ancient times Croesus lived here after he had
made his pile, and at the present day great numbers of wealthy men make
it their home, and there is a good deal of luxury seen in the suburbs.
It has the trade from Asia Minor.  Homer was born here, and wrote and
sang his immortal poetry along its rocky shores.  It was conquered by
Alexander the Great, and after he had destroyed it he ordered it
rebuilt a few miles farther off so as not to forget it, and it became
very prosperous.  The Knights of Malta and the Arabs fought the Turks
for many years for its possession, but the Turks have held it against
all comers up to date.  It was shaken down to ruins by an earthquake in
180 A.D., and this was followed by disastrous shocks in 1688, 1788, and
1880.

Its great trade is in figs, dates, sponges, silks, and rugs; but the
greatest of these is the rug.  These stuffs come in loaded on long
trains of camels.  I may say that no one has any idea of what this
animal is like if he has only seen it in a zoo or in a circus parade.
I watched the trains by the hour with absorbing interest.  The
professional, business camel is a big, fine, intelligent animal, who
carries himself with the utmost dignity and strides along looking
neither to the right nor the left, refusing to take notice of any noise
or disturbance that would--and often does--upset his owners, whom he
follows with implicit confidence.  He is willing to make an honest and
prompt return for his food and the care that is given him.  I could not
help thinking that if a man from Mars came down and did not know the
conditions here, he would think the camel was master, and not the noisy
crowd that surrounded him.

St. Polycarp, the second Bishop of Smyrna, was executed here because he
would not recant his faith; he was a disciple of the Apostle John, and
this incident shows the antiquity of the place.

The trade of Smyrna exceeds that of Constantinople: five thousand
people are engaged in making rugs, but the best ones are brought in on
camel back from seven hundred miles away.  They have a curious way of
selling the rugs that arrive from the interior: the dealer must buy the
unopened bales with no opportunity to examine the rugs, so it is really
a lottery and feeds the desire for gambling that prevails in business
dealings in the Orient.

Smyrna is a beautiful, oriental city; it produces nothing, but
exchanges everything and gets a shave for doing it: it is the home of
Eastern luxury and of the finest women in Asia.  Much more could be
written about this city with a guide-book as a basis of information,
but it would not be interesting produced in this way.

We heard a native "ragtime" band, playing tom-tomic strains--the lyric
style of dinner-gong music that tears holes in the air.  The leader was
an imitator of Sousa and had his gymnastic eccentricities down to a
fine point.  He executed a fantasia on his horn of plenty that brought
a shower of silver on the stage.  We were told that the members of the
orchestra were called the "Flowers of Music from Stamboul," and were
working their passage to the "halls" of the European capitals.  May the
hat never be returned empty nor the charm of their work grow less!



THE HOLY LAND

JAFFA

Our next stopping place was Jaffa, the port of Jerusalem.  The water at
the landing is very rough, but the sturdy natives jump into the boats and
show rare skill in handling the passengers, tossing them round like sheep
into safe spots of vantage in the large boats used for disembarkation.

Jaffa has a population of 35,000.  It is celebrated for its fine oranges,
which grow in profusion about the city to the extent of 8,000,000 oranges
every year.  It has fine trains of camels, and 15,000 pilgrims to the
Holy Land pass through it annually, many of them Russian pilgrims.  It
costs them about $60 to make the trip, and many of them spend their lives
in saving this money for the purpose.  The railroad to Jerusalem is
fifty-four miles long.  Simon the tanner was born here; his house was
supposed to be on the hillside, but another house farther down the hill
at the water-front was agreed on by those financially interested, so as
to have something notable to show the visitor just as he stepped from the
gang-plank.  A guide said to us, pointing out a thirty-year old fig tree:

"Dar is de feeg tree de great man preech under all dose years ago; long
time, ain't it?"

The streets are narrow and crooked, no room for vehicles, so we had to
trek about two miles to the railroad station, the baggage being sent
there by teams.  After getting on the train we ran through orange, fig,
olive, lemon, pomegranate and date groves, then over a great flat,
fertile plain, the Plain of Sharon, fifty miles long and averaging eight
miles wide, ploughed by camels, oxen and horses.  This gave way to lands
not so good, but covered by a great variety of flowers, followed by stony
patches, and finally by ranges of bare, rocky mountains with but little
vegetation on them and quite forbidding and desolate in their appearance;
but every mile was historic ground.  We were shown the town said to be
the Arimathea of the New Testament, and the Crusaders' Tower, one hundred
and twenty feet high.  Here Samuel was a judge and Israel asked for a
king.  Then the Hill of Gezer, with ruins of the old city presented to
Solomon by Pharaoh as a dowry for his daughter.  Now we see Zorah, the
birthplace of Samson, where the Ark was held up by the Philistines before
they returned it to the Israelites, fearing it would bring a curse on
them, and also where he tied burning brands to the foxes' tails so as to
set fire to the ripening crops.

[Illustration: THE MOSQUE OF OMAR, JERUSALEM--"THE FINEST BUILDING IN THE
EAST."  THE TURKS AND MOHAMMEDANS WASH THEIR FEET IN THE DRINKING
FOUNTAINS HERE, BUT THAT, OF COURSE, IS A MERE DETAIL.  IT CLEARLY SHOWS,
HOWEVER, THE COURAGEOUS FREEDOM AND _SANS SOUCI_ OF THE PEOPLE]

Farther along we come to Bittir, so strongly fortified that it took the
Romans three years to capture it, costing them the lives lost in the
horrible massacre described in the Talmud--one of the largest in all
history.

And now the train stops at Jerusalem.  This railroad is a tiny affair,
and the officials marked up the class of some of its carriages by
painting out one numeral from "II," leaving it a "I" class carriage, thus
turning a second into a first just to keep up the spirit of deception
that is the potent atmosphere of the Holy Land.  But we were in Jerusalem
and didn't care a rap, even though the varnish on the seats was wet and
we were stuck to them like limpets to a rock in the sea.

It was quite a strain on the Holy City to take care of such a crowd, but
all was well managed and we were comfortably stowed away somewhere (many
in convents), and only the most confirmed "kickers" could offer any fair
objection to the arrangements.


JERUSALEM

Very few writers and hardly any lecturers and speakers who have visited
Jerusalem have told the truth about it, or if some of them have, they
told only the pleasant part of it.  In fact, it has usually been given a
treble coat of whitewash, entirely misleading to those who are to follow
them.  When the writer holds Jerusalem to be the greatest of historical
cities with all the reverence due to it, and yet finds it in the hands of
the Turkish government--which does not know the meaning of truth nor of
honesty; which by its example prostitutes every decent feeling in the
minds of the people to its own base ends, and permits the barefaced
robbery and oppression, not only of the visitor but of its own
citizens--then I say the modern writer has a delicate task to perform in
describing it, for in relating the facts he might seem to be railing and
scoffing at religion and biblical history, whereas nothing is farther
from his mind or his intention.  Everything is so interwoven that it is
hard to separate the serious and truthful from the ridiculous and
fraudulent.  This deceit is not alone of to-day; it goes back to the
times when landmarks and historic evidences were obliterated by wars,
earthquakes and revolutions, and when all traces of locations during
these upheavals of centuries were lost and covered with _débris_
sometimes one hundred and fifty feet deep, the city of Jerusalem itself
not having a single inhabitant for over fifty years in one period of its
history.  Then the "holy men" of those old days saw at once their
opportunity to make religion both popular and paying, as well as the
necessity for doing so, and they therefore invented a system of "pious
frauds" by selecting bogus sites on particular spots for this, that, and
the other incident which occurred in the great religious dramas in the
Holy Land.  These selections gave the ignorant, to whom they wholly
appealed, some material, practical object on which to lay hold--something
to worship which they could see and feel; and this was where the profit
lay.  Thus we find that there are crowded in the rooms of the Church of
the Holy Sepulchre over thirty "sacred sites."  There is the exact spot
where the clay was found to make Adam; Adam's grave; the tears of the
Virgin petrified in the form of a cross.  Then there is the Stone of
Unction; near by the Chapel of the Parted Raiment, where Christ's clothes
were gambled for; again, the spot where He was crowned with thorns; the
place where they scourged Him; that spot beyond is where they nailed Him
to the cross--and the hole for the cross has been carefully cut out, no
doubt by the best local stone-cutter not so many years ago.  Then there
is the long story of the finding of the true cross--but why further speak
of these absurd fictions, intended to fool and work upon the poor Greek,
Armenian, Syrian, Latin, Copt, Abyssinian and Russian pilgrims--in fact,
all who are ignorant and credulous and will give _bakshish_ to these fat
and sleek bandits, who never did an honest day's work in their lives and
who couldn't be driven with a shotgun to do any kind of labor!  At birth
they are dedicated to organized robbery and oppression and they have no
thought of disturbing this dedication--not if they know it!  For fees,
they show the "Cradle," a heavy, marble bath tub that would take many men
to rock it with a crowbar.  They exhibit the "Manger," also in marble
(!), that never had a straw in it, and if you seem credulous they will
tell you anything they think you will swallow.  I pretended to believe
them, and in consequence got a load of lies that would have made Ananias
clap his hands with joy.  And so on _ad infinitum_!  By one "holy"
pretence and another they rob these poor victims of their money till it
is all gone, when they are allowed to go home as best they may.  All
religions, including the Roman Catholic and the Protestant, should
combine to form a universal commission, which should be supplied with
funds raised by public subscription the world over for the purpose of
regulating Jerusalem.  The objectionable buildings and "fake" objects
should be razed to the ground, and it should be the duty of this
commission to set forth and establish the authentic, historical sites and
locations as nearly as reasoning and induction can locate them, and it
should also be its province to see that proper treatment, protection and
accommodation are given the poor pilgrims who go there annually; the rich
and educated can take care of themselves.

The whole city is in a most disgusting state--unclean, vile and
unspeakable in almost every respect; it is the sink of Christendom and
its condition is a disgrace to humanity and to all sects of religion.

Jerusalem is a very old city: Abraham lived there and it was David's
capital.  When Solomon was king it was one of the mighty and magnificent
cities of the world.  Sixteen sieges have destroyed it, and the city of
to-day is really built on the ruins of its seven predecessors.  How
utterly preposterous, then, is it for any one to attempt to identify the
sacred places!  The present population is 60,000.  It is a walled city
and has eleven gates.  The Mosque of Omar is its principal feature; this
was completed by Solyman the Magnificent in 1561; parts of the
construction were done by the Crusaders.  It has a noble dome and is a
masterpiece of architectural beauty; it is said to be one of the finest
buildings in Asia.

In the Church of the Holy Sepulchre the various sects have certain
portions allotted to them for worship; the lines between them are guarded
by armed soldiers, and if even an unintentional trespass is committed, a
bloody riot usually ensues.  In one of these three men were killed and
many wounded a few days before we arrived, and the defeated sects were
planning reprisals when we were leaving.  This is Christianity at high
pressure, and is characteristic of the whole place.

We saw Mount Zion, the Mount of Olives, the Damascus Gate, Calvary, the
Garden of Gethsemane, the Pool of Siloam, the Pool of Bethesda, and the
other celebrated places mentioned in the Bible.  These were fairly
authentic, as they were not "spots," but wide places of considerable
dimensions, and not gathered under one roof.

[Illustration: THE WAILING PLACE, JERUSALEM.  THE LESS SAID ABOUT THIS,
THE BETTER]

The condition of the "Wall of Wailing"--which, by the way, is an open,
paved court--is particularly offensive in a sanitary sense and no
self-respecting person should enter it.  Some writers have spoken plainly
about these things.  Here is a quotation from an eminent writer on the
East, Dr. D. E. Lorenz, who knows his subject thoroughly, and to whom I
am indebted for other data herewith:


"The moral degeneracy of the people as a whole is incredible.  Profanity
and obscenity are said to be mingled in the speech of the common people
to an extent unknown among almost any other people on earth.  Filthy
homes and utter uncleanliness of person are the general rule.  Sanitation
is almost wholly disregarded, and it is a wonder that a plague does not
sweep away all the inhabitants. . . .  Dishonesty is reduced to a fine
art. . . .  The crowded streets with their Babel of confusion--the shouts
of the donkey boys, the loud cries of the camel drivers, and the calls of
those who would sell their wares to every passer-by, together with the
hurly-burly of people in strange garb and speaking in strange
tongues--all this tends to destroy . . . the religious glamour."


The "puller-in" and the "barker" of Baxter Street and the Bowery are mere
sucking doves compared with the vendors of Jerusalem: they will get in
front of you and pull you into their shops, and the only way you can
prevent an assault is to jump to the other side of the street or dive
into an alley.  If you do not buy from them they will guy you and tell
you to your face that they wish Americans would stay at home unless they
will spend their money like the gentlemen they pretend to be.  If at the
end you buy nothing, they will shout derisively, "Skidoo! twenty-three!
no good!" and other slang of a more or less complimentary nature.  The
English rule them with a rod of iron; they thrash them with a cane or
whip which they carry for the purpose, and consequently the natives do
not bother Johnnie Bull but allow him to pass in silence.  The Emperor
William was here a short time since, and they opened a new gate to let
him in and removed the small boulders from the road so that his Imperial
Majesty might not be jolted in driving about the country.  William wants
to be friendly and get a big slice of the "melon" at the cutting.  Lady
Burdett-Coutts, noticing the dangerous character of the water, offered to
equip a fine, free system for the city, taking the supply from the head
waters of the Jordan, but the sultan refused the offer unless he did the
building.  This proposal Lady Coutts declined, well knowing that if she
accepted it there would be no works, but that the "Brother of the Sun"
would keep the money.

The "Corks" were invited to a reception in Jerusalem given by a native
lady in her own home, surrounded by every luxury and refinement as these
are known in Asia Minor.  She received us very graciously, with a
distinguished, high-bred air, knowing just what to say and do at the
psychological moment.  She treated Mrs. Galley-West with the same
impartiality that she showed toward some of the aristocratic members of
the Rittenhouse Square set of Philadelphia who honored us with their
presence.  She was highly educated and an accomplished linguist, so
practically all the varieties of Volapuk were alike familiar to her, and
she could make Jean, Ivan, Hans, Franz or Johnny equally at home in her
presence; as, if she could not quite "hit it off" with him in one
language, she could quickly shift to another and talk to him in the kind
in which he could best express himself.

Music was rendered and refreshments served by natives in oriental style
and costume.  Her husband was an American, an enthusiastic collector of
ceramics and Levantine _bric-à-brac_, and the owner of a celebrated
collection of scarabs--not bought at the Luxor factory, but separated
from the mummies with the golden lever one must use to acquire these
treasures; because it is the same, whether a collector has them dug from
the graves for gold or whether he buys them after some one else has dug
them.  We know the practice here in another form (only ours is on a
silver basis), when we catch our speckled beauties in the mountain
streams with a silver hook and hang them high on a pole at supper time
for local fame and universal admiration.  Anyhow, the "real thing" in
scarabs is not to be sneezed at when it is a fact that they have lain
beside a Pharaoh in his grave long before Noah thought of laying the keel
of his _Mauretania_.  And don't forget that our first captain must have
had a live pair of them on his historic houseboat, in order that they
should be cavorting on the banks of the Nile to-day.  But this indulgence
in "piffle" has led us away from the main entrance, and we must come back
to the floor of the _salon_ in which our reception was being conducted.

Large operations in excavation are now in progress in the East, and
sometimes they "strike it rich," as the boys used to say in Nevada.  One
of these companies uncovered a terra-cotta lamp factory, in which were
found literally thousands of small, crude lamps, each with a _strupe_ to
hold the wick through which the oil passed.  These were of two sizes, the
small ones being called "wise virgins," and the larger ones "foolish
virgins."  There were at least a thousand of them on hand at the
beginning of the reception, and each guest was given one by our hostess.
When it came to my turn, my heart was in my mouth!  She asked which I
would have, so I said,

"Oh, madam, give me a 'foolish virgin,' by all means!"

Her smiling face turned at once to stone.  She handed me a lamp with a
freezing look, in this way trying to stem the tide of giggles that this
request provoked.  It was no use; the character of the sacred function
was forever lost through my thoughtless way of asking for the lamp.

Slowly and alone, I "hiked" back to the hotel, feeling that as a
receptionee I had "put my foot in it," and must in future be regarded as
a social back number.


JERICHO

_The Jordan and the Dead Sea_

After visiting all the places in Jerusalem that were of interest to us,
we set out in carriages for a long and tiresome drive to Jericho and its
environs.  We passed Gethsemane and went over the Mount of Olives to
Bethany.  The Mount of Olives is four thousand feet above sea level, and
consequently has a perfect climate even in hot weather.  From it we saw
the plain of the Jordan and the mountains of Moab in the distance--truly
a magnificent panorama.  After awhile we reached the "Good Samaritan" Inn
and had some rest and refreshments there.  An old Bedouin, tall, spare,
and with a fine, military bearing, had a lot of old flint-lock guns for
sale at the inn, but his historical knowledge and dates were decidedly
mixed.  He didn't care anything about facts or the truth if he could only
sell a gun to a credulous customer.  To give verisimilitude to his
statements, he said he had fought at Waterloo on the English side and had
killed Napoleon with one of these guns--he did not know which, but the
buyer could have his choice.  As this was the grandest and most daring
lie I had ever heard, I gave him an American quarter, for which he was
very grateful, as he needed the money.

[Illustration: THE DEAD SEA WITH THE LONE FISHERMAN IN FRONT.  HE HAS
JUST HEARD THAT THE FISH ARE NOT BITING AND IS SOMEWHAT DEPRESSED IN
CONSEQUENCE]

We went down through wild mountain gorges to the plain below.  In former
times the Bedouins who infest these mountains robbed the visitors and
were a menace to travel, so it became the custom to "settle" with the
chiefs for "protection" (from themselves) before starting.  The
management paid up for us and we were duly protected.  In none of Gilbert
and Sullivan's comic operas can any incident be found that is more
delicious in its comicality and topsy-turvyism than was our experience
with these bandit chiefs.  They were mounted on small, nimble horses
which had all the sure-footedness and agility of the chamois, and sprang
from rock to rock with surprising certainty.  The rider chief was armed
to the teeth: he had a long rifle, that had not been fired since the last
siege of Jerusalem slung across his back, round his body were courses of
daggers, pistols and dirks--awfully bloodthirsty-looking things, don't
you know; then he wore a magnificent, three-story turban, topped off with
a big bunch of dyed green alfalfa; the _tout ensemble_ was completed by a
dark red, flowing robe which swept behind him in the wind like the wings
of an angel of death.  This great man would bow to us ceremoniously,
place his hand on his heart, put spurs to his horse and dash to the top
of the nearest hill; then, shading his eyes, he would scan the horizon
with careful scrutiny.  Now with leaps and bounds he would descend again,
and planting himself before us in the road, would announce that there
were no robbers in sight, or that his appearance had frightened them off,
and then shout at the top of his voice,

"BAKSHISH!  BAKSHISH!!"

although he had been already paid.  There were four of them guarding us,
and at the end they lined up across the road with the idea that we would
have to settle, but we brushed through them, pushing some of them on
their backs, so their bluff was "called."

Rooms were scarce at the Jordan hotels, and the drivers of the light
carriages were anxious to get there ahead of one another in order to
secure the first choice for their fares; so a general edging up took
place which resulted finally in a steeplechase across the fields, in
which several were thrown out.  Our carriage led for the last mile, but
was passed by two others at the finish, thus giving us third place and
single rooms as our reward.

My apartment was a whitewashed cell, without ventilation, but it was
"mine own" and I was happy.  The mirror was hung so high that I had to
make a pyramid of three boxes on which to stand while shaving.  They were
quite rickety, and I was between the Scylla of cutting my throat with the
razor and the Charybdis of breaking my bones by a fall on the floor.
Neither happened, however.

[Illustration: RIVER JORDAN, WHERE WE CROSSED ON A FERRY-BOAT; THE ONLY
REASON FOR DOING IT WAS TO TRY A VOYAGE WITHOUT STEWARDS' FEES]

We went in to dinner.  The hotel put up a fine showing of red napkins,
plated cruet stands (with nothing in the bottles), bundles of toothpicks,
last week's bread, bright green pickles (that had been dropped into some
kind of pungent, commercial acid which would have made excellent rat
poison); paper napkins with Corot landscapes printed on them; and plenty
of gingersnaps and lady fingers, pretty thoroughly flyblown; the whole
supplemented with sheaves of wild flowers cut in the fields with a
scythe.  It all looked grand and imposing for the money, but somehow
lacked the substantial body (as well as fragrance) of beefsteak and
onions.  The _pièce de resistance_ however, really consisted of stewed
kid and roast goat.  I could not stomach either, so I went out and bought
three fresh eggs from a native who kept hens, had them boiled four
minutes and was the envy of the entire crowd ever after.

There was a large courtyard, and a big, dark, Byronic-looking dragoman
came round and proposed a barbaric dance to our people.  Ali Cocash was
his name, and he described this dance as an imitation of a fierce and
bloody orgy, such as the Bedouins indulge in after a great victory.  They
were to shout, grunt and brandish their guns, dirks, pistols and swords,
and to behave generally in a very disreputable manner; in fact, Ali
gravely intimated that it would be no place for timid ladies.  This
simply whetted our appetites and we promptly closed with him for the
dance for a certain amount of "teep."  The hat was passed and the tips
put in.  Then a row of about twenty-five as hangdog-looking Bedouins as
were ever strung up in the Valley of Jehoshaphat began a kind of mewling
cry, such as a rat would make in a trap.  This did not satisfy us and we
went for Cocash; we wanted "blood!" or at least an imitation of crime and
deviltry.  Ali consulted with the Bedouins and came back with a smiling
solution of our difficulty.  He said,

"My men have had a hard day's work and are tired and not able to do
themselves justice, but if you give them more 'teep,' they will give you
a good show and you will see something, sure."

Again the hat was passed, and the sons of the desert, after some rest,
began anew.  This time they brought torches with them, and they did make
an abominable lot of noise and flung their armory about in a really
reckless fashion.  One of them dropped a burning torch on his neighbor
and set fire to his clothes; this led to a fight which soon became
general, and they began to bang one another right and left with anything
that came to hand.  Blood was flowing freely and the dragoman was in
despair.  He rushed into a stable and came out with a wooden pitchfork
with which he drove them back, and restored order once more.

Two accomplished young ladies from the _Cork_ then gave us a skirt dance,
which happily closed a very exciting day.  I went to bed in my cell.  It
was a fine, moonlight night, and a three-cornered contest soon started
between donkeys braying, jackals howling and dogs barking; but we were
very tired, and they made no more impression on us than would Raff's
_Cavatina_ played on the violin with a mute.

We were up early next morning and off for the Jordan and the Dead Sea.
We stopped to look at and drink of Elisha's Fountain, a fine, copious
spring forming a large stream.  Near it I talked with several German
officers who were making excavations for some German savants.  They had
got down to where the old buildings had been, and were pleased with their
prospects.  They were nice fellows, and very hospitable--strangers in a
strange land usually are.

Next we came to Gilgal, and then to the Jordan.  I crossed it in a canoe
for sixpence--not that I had any business on the other side, but just to
say that I did it, and to make some kind of a voyage for once without
tips to the stewards on the passage.  The river is about one hundred and
thirty-seven miles long and falls three thousand feet on its way to the
Dead Sea.  They do a large bottling business at places on the banks,
where the natives bottle the water and sell it to visitors for baptismal
purposes all over the world.

Lower down is the Dead Sea; it is forty-seven miles long, nine miles
wide, and thirteen hundred feet deep.  Its surface is thirteen hundred
feet below sea level; this and the shelter of the hills makes the country
very hot in this valley.  The Dead Sea water contains five times as much
salt as the ocean.  Six and a half million tons of water flow into it
from the Jordan daily, which amount is evaporated, as the sea has no
outlet.  No living thing can exist in it, and the bathers who try to swim
rise to the surface like corks.

We returned to Jerusalem the way we had come, meeting a train of eighty
camels on the way, which some one called the "oriental express."  After
staying a couple of days at Jerusalem, we returned to the _Cork_, which
was waiting for us at Joppa.  The natives had not "moved" Simon the
tanner's house again and we saw it once more.

We sailed for Alexandria and reached it next day.  Alexandria is now a
big, modern town and has a great history behind it, too long for any
repetition here.  Not long ago, before "Charley" Beresford, the popular
Irish admiral, had gained his title, he commanded the _Condor_ at the
siege of this city, and before the Turks knew it he had stolen under
their forts and they could not point their "graft"-made guns down on him.
Through this advantage he "batted out" a famous victory and the Turks
surrendered in short order.  After he had completed the _coup_, his
admiral signaled the now famous words, "Well done, _Condor_!" which rival
the Duke's, "Up, Guards, and at them!" of Waterloo memory.  He is to-day
almost as well known and as great a favorite in America as he is in
London.

We took the train and arrived at Cairo in four hours.



EGYPT

CAIRO

Cairo is the largest city in Africa, having a population of 570,000, of
whom 35,000 are Europeans.  It is the Paris of the East, and is the
most varied and fascinating place on the earth.  It is a military city
with English soldiers, Arab lancers, Soudanese infantry and Egyptian
cavalry, all in picturesque variety of uniform; added to this is the
gayety of the official government life, all on pleasure bent.  Most of
their time is spent in play, as they only work from 10 till 1 P.M.--the
climate prevents longer hours.  Cairo has every amusement of the
European capital, and each is played for all it is worth.  I was there
in 1874 on my way round the world, and I now found it so much changed
and improved that it was a strange place to me.  I stayed at
"Shepheard's" both times.  On my first visit this hotel was set in a
tropical park and had no buildings near it; now it is closely
surrounded by high, costly, substantial structures quite cosmopolitan
in their appearance.  It was the only good hotel then; now there are
half a dozen rivals, as Egypt has become a great winter resort for
fashion and health.  From Shepheard's veranda, crowded with tourists,
one may see hawkers of all kinds yelling, or coaxing possible
purchasers, and offering post-cards, ornamental fly-whisks,
walking-sticks, shawls, scarabs, etc.; snake charmers, boys with
performing animals, jugglers, and every possible thing you can think of
that might be bought for a souvenir; then we have the Egyptian women
with blue gowns and their faces below the eyes hidden by hideous black
veils; Bedouins from the desert; a pasha in state, with runners both
before and behind his carriage; a professional letter-writer who for a
couple of _piastres_ will write a letter in almost any desired
language; a camel train laden with oriental merchandise passing in the
midst of trolley-cars, bicycles and automobiles; a fellah woman with a
donkey loaded with baskets of poultry, or a turkey vendor driving his
flock before him, guiding its movements by a palm branch; a milkman
driving his cow and milking it in public for his waiting customers; a
wedding procession preceded by a group of dancing girls, or two
half-naked mountebanks engaging in pretended combats; a gaudily
bedecked bride riding in a gorgeous palanquin borne by two camels,
followed by camels carrying furniture and presents; a funeral
procession with black-shawled professional mourners howling their
mercenary grief--all this and more too is Cairo.

[Illustration: POOL OF SILOAM, JERUSALEM, HOLY LAND]

The climate of Egypt is peculiar: from noon till 5 P.M. it is hot and
uncomfortable; the other nineteen hours are delightfully cool in
winter, the air being very dry and healthful, with little or no rain.
At Cairo the Citadel is the main attraction.  It stands on a rampart
two hundred and fifty feet above the city and is a splendid fortress.
The city has many mosques--hundreds of them; the most important one is
that of Sultan Hassan.  The Museum is very interesting, and contains
the best things from all the temples of Egypt, objects that could not
well stand exposure nor the risk of theft.  Then, of course, there are
the Pyramids of Gizeh, three in number, and the Sphinx.  These world
wonders are about six miles from Cairo.  Few will realize that the big
one sits on a base of thirteen acres and is over four hundred and fifty
feet high.  Pick out in your mind's eye some large field of about that
size, and then build it up from that base and you will have some idea
of what this structure is like.  It contains three million cubic yards
of stone and was simply a tomb for an Egyptian king.  It has a majestic
dignity and impressiveness exceeding that of any other work of man; as
it is approached one feels like an ant in its presence.

The Sphinx near by is of the same nature.  It is sixty-six feet high,
hewn out of the living rock.  No one has discovered with what intention
it was made nor what it is meant to represent.  It is said to be the
emblem of immortality, and it impresses the visitor with the idea that
it sits serene in its nobility above the earth and its inhabitants and
all else that the world contains.  It has always been a riddle and will
always remain one.  A thought struck me when looking at the Pyramids
and the Sphinx, and that was that no object of any kind, natural or
artificial, has ever been seen by so many great men in all ages as has
this group at Gizeh.  For six thousand years the great of all nations
have made an effort to look upon these mammoth monuments: Alexander saw
them, so did Napoleon and Admiral Nelson; also the heroes of Salamis
and Marathon; all the Roman emperors who could spare the time; lines of
European kings and emperors; poets, sculptors and dramatists of ancient
and modern days; statesmen, painters and writers--all made pilgrimages
to them; while these very same stones were seen by Cleopatra, Mark
Antony, Joseph, Jacob and Abraham, as well as by thousands who preceded
them in history.  They are awe-inspiring, and the spectator, do what he
may, cannot release himself from this feeling.

[Illustration: VIRGIN'S FOUNTAIN, HOLY LAND]

A short ride on a camel round the group winds up the visit, and the
view from the "high ground" of its back across the great desert
convinces the rider that he is really in the East.  Since it rarely
storms in lower Egypt and rains are unknown here, this would seem to be
the ideal spot for our new wind wagons.  They would carry you above the
flies, the reflected heat and the dust.  Then, too, what a nice, soft
place the sand would make for a final landing place!

Cairo lately had a real estate boom which ended in a financial crash.
One man made about three million dollars in it, and when he lost this
fortune committed suicide.  They employed American methods, holding
auction sales of lots in tents, with brass bands, refreshments, etc.
The East is hardly ready for that sort of thing just yet.


_The Mummy and the Scarab_

The word "mummy" is derived from the Arabic word mumiya, meaning
bitumen, or wax, which was the principal ingredient used in preserving
the human body by the Egyptians.  To this were added spices, aromatic
gums, salt and soda.  The rich paid about the equivalent of $1200 per
body to have the embalming done; the middle classes for a cheaper
process paid about $100, while it cost the poor but a small sum to
simply salt their dead.  I saw the naked body of Rameses II. in the
Cairo Museum; it had been preserved with bitumen, and was black and
hard, but perfect, and will last forever.  Many bodies more cheaply
embalmed fall to pieces when the cloth is unrolled from them.  The
people of Thebes understood the business best, and brought the art to
perfection, but each of the twenty-six dynasties had its own method and
reputation.  The reason for preserving the body was the belief that the
soul after purification would return to it in ages to come, and the
corpse was made impervious to decay so as to receive the spirit again.
Egypt was consequently a vast sepulchre: it has been estimated by
eminent authorities that there were over seven hundred millions of the
dead preserved in tombs and graves.

The scarab is an Egyptian beetle of varying size; I have seen lots of
living specimens on the Nile.  The ancients believed that if this
beetle were placed in the coffin or grave of the dead, no harm could
come to them, and that its presence would promote their future
happiness and bring them good luck; therefore, it became the custom to
place the scarabs in all graves.  At first the real insects were used,
but it was found that these did not last, so imitations made of
semi-precious stones were substituted, and then large quantities were
allotted to the dead, so as to make sure.  By easy transition, the
custom of placing scarabs on the bodies of the dead passed to putting
them on the living, and men and women wore the scarab as a silent act
of homage to the Creator, who was not only the God of the dead but of
the living also.  These charms are easily carried and can be used in
settings for many ornamental purposes; therefore they are the most
popular and widely sought article in the market.  They are as small as
a coffee bean, and run up sometimes to the size of a walnut, green and
brown being the most popular colors of the stones out of which they are
made.  Vast quantities of them have been taken from graves, but these
have been absorbed by museums and amateur collectors, and now we have
to fall back on imitations.  No yearning desire is allowed to yearn
long here, and so we find factories making scarabs at Luxor and in many
other parts of Egypt.  Of course there is a marked difference between a
scarab cut by an old Egyptian, which has been buried for thousands of
years, and something made out of glazed terra-cotta and sold by the
dozen; the former being worth a good sum of money and the latter a mere
trifle.  I have spoken of this at such length because there is now a
veritable and increasing boom in scarabs all over the Nile Valley, but
particularly in Cairo.  More than half the men you meet on the streets
are peddling them, shouting that they sell only the "real thing."  A
man was trying to sell me a gem for $10, and I knocked him out by
saying I wanted only an imitation; he put the gem in his pocket,
pretending he was exchanging it for an imitation, brought it out again
and sold it to me for five cents!  I looked at him for a long time and
smiled; then he smiled also--we understood each other.  This fad is
very like the tulip mania of old, and almost every one is touched by
it.  I saw a dragoman sell a lady three scarabs for $30, and I am quite
sure they did not cost him fifty cents.


THE NILE

We took a train entirely filled with the "Corks," and went up the Nile
to Luxor, nearly five hundred miles from Cairo; some of the party were
going to other places and would take their turn on the Nile later.
When you have seen the ruins at Luxor, Karnak and Thebes you have seen
the best there is in Egypt, and there is but little use in looking at
minor temples unless you desire to become an Egyptologist.  Here is a
feast in ruins that will satisfy almost any appetite.

[Illustration: THE TOWER OF DAVID, JERUSALEM]

We were quartered on a Nile steamer, moored to the dock, as the hotels
were crowded.  We had hardly landed on the deck when the flies lit on
us in swarms.  In all parts of the world I had encountered flies that
held the record for abandoned cruelty to man, but they were
white-winged angels of peace compared to these tarantulas!  They stuck
and hung and dug into your flesh with apparent glee.  You have whips,
whisks, fans and bunches of twigs to chase and defeat them, but it's
all no use.  You kill a dozen, and a hundred take their place.  After
standing the pests as long as I could, I got some netting and made bags
for my head and hands.  This was a great relief, but it had its
penalties.  Dying _without_ flies is almost as attractive as living on
the Nile with them.

Gooley Can was our guide.  It may be here said of Gooley that he was an
Arab of middle age, well set up for the most part; he spoke fair
English, and was a conversational soloist of no mean pretensions.  He
had a brother who was just a plain guide, with a cast in one eye and a
great admiration for Gooley; he was generally full of sadness (and
grog), brought about by disappointments in his profession.  Gooley had
a great reputation, and as he was exclusive he always looked his party
over and sized it up before taking the job; also he had one wife and
was on the lookout for more.  He claimed to have piloted rafts of big
men up and down the Nile, and was not to be frowned down by anybody.
He was a gorgeous, oriental dresser, and had a wardrobe as big and
grand as Berry Wall's; so the "Corks" were fortunate indeed in securing
the great man.  He was known descriptively as the "Snowball of the
Nile."

The Luxor Temple was near by, and we started right into business.
Gooley gathered us together and gave us a lecture.  He said:

"Laydies en genteelmen, ef you plaze: I shall be your guide for a week
and I want you to pay attention to me.  I want no disputing of what I
say.  I am an honest man; I speak the truth, and I know my beeziness.
You can't expect less; you should not hope for more."

After this explicit statement, Gooley put a roll in his cuffs, cocked
his turban at the correct angle, hitched up his sash, cleared his
throat, and began the business of the day.  He uncorked a new bottle of
adjectives in florid description of each wonder as he reached the
ever-lasting wilderness of courts, pillars and obelisks, of
hieroglyphics, bas-reliefs, pylons, hypostyles, colonnades, giant rows
of columns--till he got out of breath and our brains seemed muddled
into a grand pot-pourri done in granite, marble and limestone--but
alas! without salt or pepper!  Gooley told us what King Bubastis said,
what Setee I. did--he of the Armchair Dynasty; how Amenophis III. was
no better than he should have been; and that the ladies of those days,
including Cleopatra, painted and wore false hair just as they do now.

Gooley had a vein of sarcastic wit about him.  He said:

"You Americans think you invent everything, but you don't: there's the
cake-walk cut on that stone four thousand years ago.  The girls do it
in the latest fashion; and over there you will see Queen Hat-shep-set
spanking her child, the young king, in the usual manner"--(and in the
usual place).

  "Lots of men would leave their footprints
    Time's eternal sands to grace,
  Had they gotten mother's slipper
    At the proper time and place."


The temples were very hot in the middle of the day, about ninety-five
in the shade, and there was but little air moving, so we sat down for a
rest, and it came to pass that Gooley considered this a good time to
spring his scarabs on us, with the unvarying formula with which he
constantly opened every description:

"Laydies en genteelmen, ef you plaze: you have no doubt heard in Cairo
of the fraudulent imitations of scarabs that are being foisted on
visitors to the Nile and sold as real scarabs.  I have scarabs for
sale"--(he was interrupted at this point by applause and hand-clapping,
as the "Corks" were eager for the fray and wanted to get into the game).

"Laydies en genteelmen, ef you plaze; I am glad to see you are
interested in my goods, and I will now show them to you.  I am an
honest man, and so was my father before me.  Father and son, we have
sold scarabs to the crowned heads of Europe and to the nobility and
gentry of England, Scotland and _Ireland_--think of that, Mr. Bayne!  I
would not cheat you; I am too proud to do that, and if I told you a lie
my father would turn in his grave!  There were twenty-six dynasties of
Pharaohs, and each one of them had scarabs of his own pattern.  I have
many examples of the oldest and best, some of them having but one eye."

Assured in this wholesale and convincing fashion, the "Corks" fell to
and made many purchases from Gooley, who told them that his uncle,
Hajie Hassan, was a professional excavator and had lately made an
important find in some graves at Thebes, and that every one of his
scarabs had been taken by this uncle from the coffins.  (By the way, at
Thebes they dig mummies with scarabs attached about as we dig our
potatoes, and of course the big bugs are the most valuable and
expensive.)  The prevailing average price was one hundred _piastres_
each, but he was very concise and particular about his prices, and for
some he charged a few _piastres_ less, for others a trifle more, as he
said he knew their exact value and asked only the rate that the Museum,
the crowned heads and the savants were anxious to pay for them.  Some
of the "Corks" openly scoffed at this line of talk and threw the gaff
into him without mercy.  This hurt the great man's feelings, and he
jumped up and told them that he was rarely asked for a guarantee, but
since suspicion had been cast upon him in an unfair way, he would clear
himself by giving each purchaser a written guarantee.  Whereupon he
pulled out a book like a cheque-book and filled out the details, signed
it, and handed each purchaser a "guarantee."  This had a tendency to
restore confidence and he made some more sales; but it was getting late
and we adjourned to the steamer.

[Illustration: THE SPHINX--THE GRAND OLD GIRL OF ALL SCULPTURE.  THE
SUN'S KISS WAS THE ONLY ONE SHE EVER HAD.  THE QUEEN OF POST-CARDS, TO
WHICH THE PYRAMID BEHIND HER RUNS A CLOSE SECOND]

We had a _table d'hôte_ dinner, and when the Nile fish course was
reached, Gooley appeared between the tables, arrayed in gorgeous,
Arabic robes, and addressed his audience thus:

"Laydies en genteelmen, ef you plaze: my family has been story-tellers
on the Nile for many generations, and ef you plaze I shall tell you
some Arabian Nights tales."

With many gestures and admirable poise he told his stories between the
courses; the "Corks" laughed, but the laughter had an apologetic ring
that did not speak well for its sincerity.  The truth is, the men were
afraid to laugh in the presence of the ladies, as the stories were full
flavored and spicy; but still, no one fainted.  I may say that during
our voyage Gooley repeated this performance at each dinner and changed
his costume on every occasion, always coming out with some little
pleasing surprise, such as a silver ornament stuck through the top of
his ear (where there was a hole for it).  Some of the Arab stewards
also wore these, but none was so grand as Gooley's.

Dinner over, we sat out on deck in comfort, as the sun had set and the
flies had quit for the day.  Beside us was anchored J. P. Morgan's
_dahabiyeh_, Mr. Morgan and his party dining on board.  He had been up
the river and was coming down in easy stages, landing at the various
points of interest.

Next morning we mounted donkeys, and with Gooley Can leading we started
for Karnak.  It was a funny experience, as some of us had never ridden
a donkey, and many had not been on horseback for years.  We were a
weird looking crew, with our heads in net bags and using our fly-whips
like flails.  Each donkey has a "boy" (half of them are men), who prods
and whips his charge, but without any cruelty, as the riders would not
allow it.  These boys are full of tricks: when I alighted squarely on
the ground, one of them had edged up to me and he set up a loud howl,
claiming I had lit on his toes and had broken two of them.  I had seen
the trick played before, and noticing an Englishman near with a heavy
whip I reached for it and made the "boy" really suffer.  His friends
laughed at his failure, and before long he joined in the merriment at
his own expense.  He had asked me for three dollars damages, equal to a
dollar and a half a toe.  On comparing notes in the evening we found
that three passengers had parted with _bakshish_ on similar claims.

We now entered the largest ruin in the world, the Temple of Karnak, a
monument of unparalleled grandeur, whose vast proportions overpower the
imagination.  The temples at Karnak and Luxor are connected by an
avenue six thousand five hundred feet long, with a width of eighty
feet, on each side of which are ranged a row of sphinxes.  To describe
these wonders in detail would require weeks, as will be understood when
it is explained that one place, called the "Hall of Columns," alone
contains a vast forest of pillars arranged in groups running from
thirty-five to sixty feet high and each having a circumference of
twenty-seven feet, all highly carved and ornamented.  Another object of
interest, the First Pylon or Corner Tower, is three hundred and
seventy-five feet wide and a hundred and forty-two feet high.  Many
kings and rulers had a hand in the construction of these great
buildings, and it took fifteen centuries to complete them, but one
character stands out above all other men and things as a builder of
these ruins and the king-pin of Egypt--


_Rameses II._

Rameses II. was the greatest advertiser of any age or time.  He erected
rows of colossal statues to himself all over Egypt, and for fear some
one would not notice a _single_ figure, he would place half a dozen
side by side.  He was usually represented in his Sunday clothes, with a
pleasing smile, and a granite goatee on his chin as big as a
narrow-gauge freight car.  (See photograph.)  "Ram" was the most
celebrated of the Pharaohs; he reigned seventy years, and was over a
hundred years old when he died.  As a young man he won a real battle,
and he spent the rest of his life singing about it through paid,
professional poets.  He had one hundred and eleven sons and fifty-nine
daughters.  (That was going some!)  However, suspicious hieroglyphics
have been found that go to show that Ram was chased in many battles,
and that one barbarian had the audacity to tin-can him into the
neighboring desert, from which he did not return for many moons.
Kadesh was his Thermopylae, and the Khetas compelled him to recognize
their independence at the treaty of Tanis.  This made the old man sick,
as he was not accustomed to taking "second money."  They had no
"germans" in those days, but Ram is shown in one of the alto-rilievos
in his temple nimbly leading the cake-walk, leaning as far back as ever
Dixey did when exploiting that dance.  In the matter of carving, Ward
McAllister couldn't hold a candle to him: he used no knife nor fork,
but slashed his Christmas turkey in pieces with his dirk, ate it and
called for the next course.  His wife never got any of the white
meat--the drum-sticks were good enough for her.  He was more than a
two-bottle man: this is made plain in the reliefs by the number of
"empties" that are stacked upon his table, and also by the fact that he
built and stocked a celebrated wine cellar at Thebes, his best vintage
being "1333 B.C."

[Illustration: RAMESES II.  THE GREAT PHARAOH OF THE XIXTH DYNASTY AND
THE GRAND OLD MAN OF ALL TIME.  AS HE APPEARS NOW IN A GLASS CASE IN
THE CAIRO MUSEUM.  IT IS THREE THOUSAND TWO HUNDRED YEARS SINCE HE DID
A STROKE OF WORK.  YET HIS BODY IS SO IMPERISHABLY EMBALMED THAT, IF
NOT DESTROYED BY FIRE.  IT IS CERTAIN TO BE WITH US TILL THIS EARTH HAS
PASSED AWAY.  FOR MANY REASONS RAMESES II. IS NOW THE MOST UNIQUE,
PICTURESQUE, AND CELEBRATED PERSONAGE IN ALL HISTORY.  WE MUST TAKE OFF
OUR HATS TO HIM.]

When Ram dropped into his smoking den after the coronation, the first
thing he did was to order all the stone-cutters, from Cairo to the
Sixth Cataract, to get out their tools and cut his praises on the
stones, rocks, pyramids, tombs and obelisks, according to the plans and
specifications of his architects, professional poets and press agents,
all along the river right down to low-water mark, and there they stand
to this day.  One of the favorite postscripts is that this great king
never took off his hat to anybody that ever "blew up" the Nile.  Even
in those very, very early days they had a masonic understanding that he
who sails on the Nile must "contribute," and it is a curious fact that
that requisition has never been revoked even unto this writing.

On the whole, Ram was a magnanimous man and did not forget his wife; he
had her done in a group with himself in which she stands behind his leg
and hardly reaches his knee; something like a prize doll at a fair.  He
got other men to do the most of his fighting and, for that matter,
almost everything else, but he never failed to take the credit for
whatever they did.

[Illustration: ARAB TYPES--CAMEL DRIVERS--SUNBURNT SNOWBALLS OF THE
NILE]

The great men of England are buried in Westminster Abbey, and
succeeding generations gaze on their statues with awe and admiration;
but as there is nothing of the kind in Egypt, the authorities content
themselves with placing the conspicuous heroes and kings of the past in
full view in glass cases in the museums, where even the small boys may
stare at them in the "altogether," without blanket, bathrobe or pajamas
to cover their physical imperfections.  After "life's fitful fever,"
poor old Ram and his historical rivals and friends sleep well in these
hard, ebony boxes in the museum at Cairo.  Ram had lots of air and
elbow room during his spectacular career, and it seems hardly fair that
he should be kept on exhibition now, although his mummy is most
interesting and always draws a crowd.  To parody William a little, it
might be said:

  To what base uses may we come!
      *      *      *      *
  Imperial Ram'ses dead and turn'd to clay
  Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
  O, that that earth, which set the Nile on fire,
  Should lie in glass! this is a fate too dire!


Ram, scarabs, flies, and _bakshish_ are, after all, the main things of
Egypt and the Nile.  I once asked Gooley Can confidentially:

"How many statues did the great king put up for himself--two hundred?"

"Oh, very many more than that! he was a busy man."

But in many departments he had his rivals.  Now there was Bubastis I.
of the twenty-second dynasty.  (His name seems somewhat similar to that
of our old friend Bombastes, when pronounced by a man with a cold in
his head--but anyway, we'll call him "Bub.")  He was a man of not a few
accomplishments, many habits and some deeds: for instance, he made a
grand-stand play when he started out for Jerusalem with twelve hundred
chariots, sixty thousand horsemen and four hundred thousand footmen.
He took it hands down in a canter--and took a whole lot of other
things, too, when he got his hands in the bags of Solomon's temple.
This was a "classy" performance and gave him some small change for the
evening of his days.  Thebes was his home town and he was as well known
in the all-night restaurants as Oscar Hammerstein is on Forty-second
Street.  He was a great poker player, and wore an amalgamated copper
mask when engaged in a stiff game; it was a helpful foil when trying to
work his passage on a pair of trays.  This, mind you, was in the stone
age of poker, when a man couldn't hide his feelings when he held a full
hand.  To-day the player sits disconsolate and looks woebegone when
glancing at his royal flush.

When Bub got hard up he made raids on the "capitulists" of the day, and
often cleaned up both banks of the Nile, from Wady Halfa to Port Said.
When short of funds he frequently staked ten cars of watermelons or a
bunch of steers on a single hand, and most always "pulled it off."  He
became infatuated with an odalisk who was a popular favorite at the
Beni Hassan opera house--the rock he split on was _Annie Laurie_, that
good old song, then well known in Lower Egypt, which she sang with chic
and abandon.  Bub met her at the stage door after the performance, took
her to a "canned lobster palace," and then eloped with her to the
Second Cataract, instead of coming right over here to Niagara Falls and
doing the thing up in regulation style.  I assume they had a _Maid of
the Mist_ at the cataract, and if so he certainly had his photograph
taken in a suit of oilskin--but, of course, this is only an assumption.
However, it is a certainty that he was a plunger and often cornered the
melon crop in the Produce Exchange at Abydos, when the sprouting season
was delayed by floods.  It is said that Bubastis I. had more scarabs
buried with him than had any other king that ever ruled the land; I
have no doubt of it, for some of them are offered daily at Shepheard's
by a dozen scarab scalpers.

Some sceptical readers may raise their brows at this synopsis of a
great man's life, but no suspicions need exist.  It was all told to me
in strict confidence by Gooley Can in his tent at Luxor, over a cup of
afternoon tea.  He explained that he had dug out these facts in the
museums in the slack season when tourists were scarce, and that I could
rely on them implicitly.

While he was at it, Gooley gave me a few tabloid truths regarding Setee
I., who, it seems, rivaled and even excelled both Ram and Bub in the
realm of sport.  Setee, as his name implies, was not of royal blood,
but was descended from a line of chair makers, having their main
factory at Beni Suef.  As a youth of eighteen he won the single sculls
championship, defeating a large field.  He was the captain of the
cricket eleven, and defeated the Asia Minors in a game which lasted
most of the summer, scoring three hundred and seventy-five runs off his
own bat in the first innings.  This was a great boost for cricket, and
it has been popular in England ever since.  He was fullback on the
Pyramids eleven, and was famous in his day as a punter.  He kicked as
many goals for his side as ever Cadwalader did when "Cad" was Yale's
great centre rush.  It was Setee's custom, of a Sunday morning after
church was out, to take his pole and vault the Sphinx, just to astonish
the Arabs on their native heath; and he was never known to touch her
back in making the record.  In common with most of the great Pharaohs I
have been describing, Setee had a trick of cutting his name on any
statue of a dead one that he thought would advance his fame with future
generations; he never hesitated to hack out the other fellow's
signature and insert his own.  In these cases he usually asked the
stone-cutter to add a few kind words to show posterity that he was a
great man and a good fellow.  It will be seen at a glance that this
broad-gauge and fearless type of man would be eminently fitted for a
dazzling banking career, and feeling entire confidence in himself,
Setee organized the First National Bank and Trust Company of Wady
Halfa--a comprehensive title, perhaps, but that was what was wanted.
He became its first president, and inaugurated a splendid system of
banking--one very much needed to-day.  Some of his plans embraced the
charging of "reverse interest "--_i.e._, five per cent. for the
responsibility of caring for the depositor's money.  He had an act
passed compelling all of his subjects worth a thousand _piastres_ to
deposit in the royal bank, and they had to do it.  If anybody failed on
him, the debtor had a tooth pulled every month till the debt was paid.
But somehow the snap was too soft, for it fell out that in a few years
Setee had all the money and there was no more to get nor any customers
to do business with, so he closed the bank and with great success
promoted the first Nile Irrigating Company, the remnants of which are
slowly working out their salvation to-day.

Gooley also stated that the men were not the whole thing by any means:

"Just think what a bird-of-paradise Queen Hatshepset was, and all the
history she made!" enthusiastically exclaimed my historical Boswell.
She was the daughter of King Thothmes I., who gave her a Pullman palace
car name; she was regarded as the Boadicea of the Orient.  "Hattie"
built temples, fought battles, and was, in fact, found on the firing
line during most of her reign.  Like most other ladies, she had her
personal idiosyncrasies: for instance, she wore men's clothes when not
engaged in court functions; she shaved twice a week, but let her beard
grow when on an extended campaign so as to give her all the appearance
of a warrior.  Hattie made a famous expedition to a place called Punt,
and there she swindled the natives by exchanging the cheap dry-goods
she had with her for gold and rare jewels.  She married her
half-brother, Thothmes II., and made it very hot for him during their
reign.  She wore the "pants" in theory as well as in practice and was
the undisputed leader of the "four hundred" in Cairo, being the
headliner in the Levantine book of _Who's Who?_  Her greatest work was
the erection of the vast temple of Der-al-Bahari, part of it ornamented
in fine gold.  Hattie smote her pocketbook for the count on this
structure--like as not she had to mortgage her Luxor villa to meet the
final pay-roll.  Den Mut was her architect and he grew rich as the
buildings increased.  He owned a centipede barge on the Nile, which was
the badge of big money in those days.

[Illustration: RAM IN THE LIME-LIGHT, WITH THE INEVITABLE GOATEE.  THE
ONLY WAY HE COULD TRIM IT WAS WITH A BLAST OF DYNAMITE]

Gooley wasn't always a treasure; he frequently irritated me by
designating certain things as "cool-o-sall'." I said to him one day:

"Gooley, when I was a boy they pronounced that word _colossal_."

"Mr. Bayne, I don't care what they called it when you were a boy; I
call it cool-o-sall', and that goes on the Nile.  What's been good
enough for King Edward you will have to put up with."

The crowd laughed and I subsided--for awhile.  Afterward I caught
Gooley on his dates, but he again called me down:

"Mr. Bayne, if you think you can do this thing better than I can, why,
get up here and try it!"

And so we rattled along from one gibe to another till we mounted our
donkeys, rode out from the temples and started for the steamer.  As we
came away we passed Mr. Morgan, who had chosen the cool of the evening
for his visit, even though the light was not so good.

There is an art in horse-racing known as the "hand ride," perfected by
Todd Sloan--_i.e._, swinging the hands from side to side and thus
rolling the bit to excite the animal.  I tried it on my donkey and as
he had never experienced it before, it excited him so much that he
started out with a rush that threw me over his head before we had gone
ten yards.  I was somewhat crestfallen, but remounted, and took "an
humbler flight" for the rest of the journey.

[Illustration: OUR OWN NILE DONKEY, "BALLY-HOO-BEY."  KNEW HIS BUSINESS
LIKE A BOOK, BUT OBJECTED TO THE TOD SLOAN RIDE (SPOKEN OF IN THE
TEXT)--A WILD WEST EFFORT IN THE FAR EAST.  ALI BABA, JR., IN THE
SADDLE]

Next day we started down the Nile, stopping at many places, but as they
did not compare in interest or importance with Luxor, Karnak or Thebes,
I shall not try to describe them.  The season was closing, the river
had fallen six feet while we were coming down stream, and the Nile was
now so low that we frequently stuck on the shifting sand-bars.  As the
pilots could not see the channels in the dark, we tied up at some town
on the banks every night and consequently made slow time.  After dinner
the shopkeepers brought down their wares, spread sheets on the ground
and opened up for business by torchlight and the light furnished by the
steamer.  The "Corks" were active buyers for home consumption, and
after a violent passage of arms usually got what they wanted at a
discount of ninety per cent. from the first offer.  If there is
anything on earth that these towns did not bring down to us, I want to
see it!--from monkeys to tame snakes in the line of living things, and
from lion skins to mummies in the dead.  The natives were not allowed
on board, and as there was great jostling on shore, the "Corks" stood
on the deck and the articles for sale were rolled in bundles and fired
at them for inspection, the owners giving the price in _piastres_ by
signs on their fingers.  After a native made a sale, his fellows took
him by the throat and ran him to the back of the dock.  He had been
successful and they would not allow him to compete again that evening.
Toward the end, some "Corks" would risk it and mix with the crowd on
shore, but their clothes were literally torn off them in a few moments,
which caused an immediate retreat.  The natives were so excited and
each so persistent in his efforts to get more than his share of the
trade, that they frequently pushed one another into the Nile, wetting
themselves and their wares, much to the amusement of the onlookers.
But high above this rude brawling the scarab stood alone.  When a fresh
bag of them was opened, a blight fell on all other wares.  Bargaining
in them, indeed, was regarded as a kind of sacred function, as it was
believed we were dealing in the jewels and mascots of the deadest
people in all history.  No greater investment could possibly be made
than to float a corporation and start a factory in Connecticut for
their manufacture and distribution, for it is but the few who may own
the genuine--there aren't enough to go round.  None of the manufactured
product need be offered in America; they can all be absorbed on the
Nile.  One man shouted with glee, as he waved a small bag of them in
the air:

"What's the use of bothering with Steel common?  See what I have got
for a five-dollar bill!"

The sport ran high, and while it was active an Arab appeared on deck
with a basket.  He approached me and said he had five sacred kittens
and some scarabs, and as he was not much of a salesman, a little short
in his English and out of funds, he wanted me to auction them off to
help him out.  As I had done this kind of thing before, I accepted the
delicate position and in a short time had planted his stock in new and
responsible hands that would not be likely to throw it again on the
market in its present critical condition.  He gave me his oriental
blessing and stole out softly into the night; his parents haven't seen
him since.

Perhaps it may have been noticed that wherever we went there were
unusual doings and excitement.  This is true, as, long before we
arrived anywhere, our coming was heralded in the papers, and as the
party was exceptionally large, all Southern Europe and North Africa
felt bound to get a whack at our pocketbooks.

Two striking things may be seen on the Nile.  One is the irrigation of
the land by hand: this is accomplished by lifting up the water in
buckets by means of poles balanced with a weight equal to that of the
water.  This hard work is done by hundreds of thousands of natives, who
are practically naked and do this labor in the hot sun.  The banks are
lined with them on each side for more than a thousand miles.  When the
length of the Nile is reckoned from its extreme source, it is four
thousand and ninety-eight miles long, making it perhaps the longest
river in the world, although the Mississippi, the Amazon and the Congo
are about as long.  Between Khartoum and the sea the Nile has six
cataracts, some of them very rapid.  Dry up the Nile and Egypt would be
like the Desert of Sahara in a month; the river is its very heart's
blood and makes it everything it is.  Labor is cheap on the Nile: the
men who hoist the irrigating water get only a few cents a day; a hotel
waiter gets a dollar a month, with board and lodging; and so it goes in
proportion.

The other activity that arrests one's attention is the planting of
melon seeds in rows on the flat banks at low water.  Later the river
overflows them and when the flood subsides the plants are well on the
way toward bearing.  Our negroes call them "water-millions;" that name
would be most appropriate in Egypt.

When Beni-Hassan was reached we made an early start and rode out on
donkeys to see the famous tombs hewn out of the living rock.  As we
were returning we met Mr. Morgan and his party coming up the hill.  A
sand-storm had blown up, and it was quite dark and very disagreeable.
I am sure he would have liked to be out of it, but he had his nerve and
poise with him and went through to the bitter end.  We had started
while this same sandstorm was still in action; not being able to see
clearly, we ran into a flight of Nile freight boats, and in trying to
avoid sinking one of them got on a rock and it punched a large hole in
our steamer's bottom.  We sank almost immediately, but as our keel was
near the river bed we had not far to go.  It took twelve hours to pump
out the boat and patch the hole, during which time the Morgan
_dahabiyeh_ came up, but finding we were not in danger, passed on.
Later we went after them and took the lead, but lost it again in
shallow water.

[Illustration: TEMPLE OF LUXOR ON THE NILE.  "RAM" IS VERY MUCH IN
EVIDENCE, BUT ONLY A SMALL PART OF HIS SCULPTURAL OUTPUT IS SEEN, AS
THE STONE-CUTTERS' LIENS HAVE NOT YET BEEN SATISFIED]

Next day we arrived at Cairo, and I found at Shepheard's an invitation
for dinner from De Cosson Bey, who controls and manages all the great
public utilities of Cairo.  He married a Philadelphia belle who had
often visited at my house in New York, so we had a very pleasant
evening, rehearsing the scenes and experiences of _auld long syne_.
The evening was a social oasis in a strange land and quickly taught me
how they live and what they do in Cairo.  My hostess spoke the language
like a native and managed her Arabic _ménage_ with skill, _à plomb_ and
distinction.  I ate and drank many strange concoctions never previously
included in any _menu_ I had ever had the pleasure of exhausting.  I
did not dare to ask the names of the rare dishes, as I might not have
liked them if I had--sometimes one had better not "know it all," or
even a part of it.  To be thoroughly happy in a case like this it is
best to leave minute details and even a general knowledge of such
things to the inquisitive.  I had, however, sufficient curiosity to
speculate on the dishes, and have made a tentative _menu_ of them,
assuming the courses, from their color, flavor and general appearance,
to be as follows:

  --:--MENU--:--

  NILE GREEN POINTS
    A pearl in every oyster

  GUM(BO) ARABIC PUREE
    _Siccative_

  CROCODILE HARD-BOILED EGGS
    Sauce _à la_ Queen Hat-shep-set

  BREAST OF THE ONE-LEGGED PINK STORK
    Stuffed with Baby Sausages

  BROILED SCARABS ON BUTTERED TOAST
    Sauce _de la Pyramide_

  BRIE _de_ BAGDAD
    Foil cases, Crimean vintage '34

  BENI-HASSAN DATES

  ALLIGATOR PEARS

  CAFE _à la_ BWANA TUMBO
    From the Wady Halfa bean

  Wine
    SAMIAN FIZZ

  Music
    By the "FLOWER BUDS OF CAIRO"

  Decorations
    By the BEGUM MACCUDDYLEEKI, period of Akbar the Great


The De Cossons lived in the suburbs, about two miles out on the road to
the Pyramids, in a detached place without a street or a number, and
quite hard to find when the sun had set.  My hostess had prepared an
elaborate map in two colors, red and blue, showing where I was to go
and what I was to do and say after crossing the great steel bridge that
spans the Nile.  Armed with this formidable document, I went to the
noble bandit who controls the carriage service in front of Shepheard's,
and in a confidential whisper explained the map and the circumstances
to him, at the same time slipping into his extended, yawning paw a wad
of _bakshish_.  I stipulated that I must have a driver who understood
at least some English.  He made a great show of grasping the
intricacies of the map and the instructions that went with it, and
presently, with a wild gleam in his eye, as if he had found a sure way
to his "graft," he announced that he was ready and willing to take all
responsibility.  He had an official, high-backed chair on the sidewalk
and asked me to use it till he returned.  Then darting into the
darkness, he quickly found a man (who looked like the First Murderer in
_Macbeth_) on whom he could depend to rob me and divide the spoils with
him.  Dressed in his flowing oriental robes as Cairo's most abandoned
criminal, he shook me warmly by the hand and whispered, as I stepped
into the carriage:

"I have arranged everything."

I had a sufficient glimmering of what was going on to meekly pipe to
him:

"Yes, I haven't the slightest doubt of it."

We started out at a brisk pace which soon relaxed into a funereal jog,
and went on and on through narrow, squalid streets till we reached the
Nile.  Although I had given myself an extra hour for emergencies, I
became impatient and asked him:

"But where is the big bridge with the bronze sphinxes on it that we are
to cross?"  He sadly wailed in reply:

"Ah, sahib, it ees so hard to find eet in the dark!"

In a burst of sarcastic anger, I shouted at him:

"Well, get off and light a match, and maybe you'll hit it by accident!"
Assuming with an innocent look that I had spoken seriously, he took me
at my word, jumped off his perch, lit a match and peered all round him.
Then I got "real" angry, and told him De Cosson Bey kept a professional
torture chamber, and that I would have him ground to sausage meat if he
trifled with me another moment.  Well knowing the impotence of my "hot
air" blast, he simply smiled and took up his burthen of "finding" the
bridge.  This he soon accomplished, as it was about as easy to find as
a saloon in the "Great White Way."  The instructions accompanying the
map stated that the Maison Antonion was on the left of the Pyramid Road
after three crossroads had been passed.  I began to look out for and
count the roads, so when we had crossed two and were approaching a
third I halted the Jehu and said:

"This is the third road; turn down here."

"No, sahib, eet is de private entrance to Hunter Pasha's palace, an' he
keep de mos' wicket dogs you ever see in awl yo' life."

So on we went till I began to realize that the kidnapper was trying to
take me out to the Pyramids for a late dinner with the Sphinx.  It was
clear moonlight and I saw an English lady walking along the road.  I
tried to have the driver stop, but he pretended that he did not
understand me, so I jumped out and, profusely apologizing to the lady,
explained my emergency.  She said:

"Why, you are a mile past De Cosson Bey's place: there it is with the
flagstaff on the tower."

Then she had a heart-to-heart talk in Arabic with my friend and we
returned briskly to the "third road."  I halted the procession for a
settlement about fifty yards from the house, well knowing that trouble
was coming in pyramids, and feeling that I did not wish to assault the
ears of my hosts with the clash which was now inevitable and which
would undoubtedly contain a large percentage of language that could
hardly be called diplomatic.  He demanded about ten times the regular
fare.  I protested, but he explained that after sunset all fares were
double and charged by the hour, at that; and that when the Nile had
been crossed the driver had the privilege of fixing the fare according
to the circumstances.  This vested right, he claimed, had not been
disputed since his ancestors had driven Napoleon out to the battle of
the Pyramids a century ago.  I could not deny his statement as I had
not been among those present, but I reduced the settlement to a
compromise by threatening to spring on him the Hessian troops that De
Cosson Bey retained for such occasions.  Then we drove up to the house
as genially as if we had been long parted relatives, and I supposed we
held the secrets of the passage of arms between ourselves.  But I was
mistaken, for I noticed at dinner that my hosts smiled knowingly at
each other as if they had some amusing thought in common.  When I could
stand this no longer I asked what they were laughing at.

"Why, at your stopping so near the house for the usual stormy, cab-fare
settlement.  Wise visitors always settle out on the Pyramid Road, so
they may regain their composure before alighting.  We threw up the
windows and heard every word of the picturesque, verbal duel, and we
came to the conclusion when the flag fell that the oriental had had his
hands full throughout the entire entertainment."

[Illustration: ANOTHER PART OF KARNAK; ONLY ONE MAN ON THE JOB, BUT HE
IS QUITE EQUAL TO ALL ITS REQUIREMENTS AND EMERGENCIES]

I left next day by train for Alexandria, and I remember it was
thirty-five years ago that I started from that city for Port Said,
whence I took a steamer for India, passing through the Suez Canal, then
not long opened.  Time flies, but the canal is still there, at the old
stand, doing a steady business with all the nations of the earth that
go down to the sea in great ships as daily customers.  F. J. Haskin has
written an interesting and graphic description of this great work,
recently published in the New York _Globe_, in which he says:


"On the great breakwater at Port Said stands the bronze statue of
Ferdinand de Lesseps, his right hand extended in a gesture of
invitation to the mariners of all nations to take their ships through
the great canal which was the fruit of his genius and diplomacy.  Not
one word is there to indicate that his fortune and good name lie buried
in the failure of another canal, half way round the world.

"The romance of the Suez Canal is suggested by everything the visitor
sees at Port Said, the 'turnstile of the nations.'  But the tragedy of
the canal, the terrible cost of life, the shameful waste of money, the
enslavement of the Egyptians in governmental and financial bondage, the
wreck of French hopes and aspirations--not one hint of all that tragedy
is discernible.  Ferdinand de Lesseps, Ismail Pasha and the Egyptian
people gave civilization and commerce one of its greatest gifts in the
Suez Canal, but the cost to them was all they had--and they were never
repaid.

"Every day in the year a dozen great ships make the procession through
the canal--the ninety miles of slow travelling which saves them the
cost of circumnavigating the great continent of Africa.  They pay well
for it, and the owners of the canal shares wax fat.  England controls
the canal, the construction of which John Bull attempted in every
manner to prevent.  English ships bound from "home" to Bombay cut down
the distance from 10,860 miles to 4,620 miles by taking the canal
route, and the vast majority of ships which pay tolls to the canal
company fly the British flag.  Germany comes second, a long way after;
Holland third, and the French, whose dreams of commercial empire cut
the ditch, are fourth.  The United States has not been represented in
the canal in a decade by any commercial ship--only vessels of the navy
and yachts of the Yankee millionaires show the Stars and Stripes to the
Bedouins of the desert who bring their caravans from Mt. Sinai to the
canal."


MOST IMPORTANT OF CANALS

"The tonnage of the Suez is not one-third as great as that of the Sault
Ste. Marie Canal in the Great Lakes, but its importance to the commerce
of the world is greater than that of any other passageway of the seas.
Wherever there is a strait or a narrow passage through which commerce
may go, there is sure to be a British flag flying, a British band
playing, and a red-coated Tommy Atkins strutting about with a swagger
stick.  Suez is not an exception.

"Fourteen centuries before Christ, nearly 3,500 years ago, the Pharaoh
Setee I., father of Rameses the Great, cut a canal fifty-seven miles
long from a branch of the Nile delta to the bitter lakes, which are now
part of the Suez Canal and which were then the northern extremity of
the Gulf of Suez.  That connected the Mediterranean with the Red Sea,
and Egypt waxed great.  But the nation decayed, and the sands of the
desert filled up the ditch.  Eight hundred years later the Pharaoh
Necho undertook to dig the canal.  More than a hundred thousand lives
were sacrificed to the project, but it was abandoned when a priest
predicted that its completion would cause Egypt to fall into the hands
of a foreign usurper.  A hundred years after Necho, the Persian Darius
took up the work on the abandoned canal, but his engineers told him
that its completion would cause a deluge, and he desisted.  About three
hundred years before Christ was born, Ptolemy Philadelphus constructed
a lock-and-dam canal through which ships made the journey from one of
the mouths of the Nile to the site of modern Suez.  Continued wars
interrupted commerce, and the locks and dams fell into decay, so that
Cleopatra's navy was unable to escape to the Red Sea by canal.  The
Roman engineers later patched up the canal so that their galleys made
their way from sea to sea; but when the Arabs came in A.D. 700 they
found it choked up.  Amrou, the Arab, cleared it out, but it was soon
permitted to fill up again, and not until the great Napoleon reached
Egypt was the canal project again considered.  Napoleon abandoned the
idea only because his engineers assured him that the level of the
Mediterranean was thirty feet below that of the Red Sea.  He then
considered a lock-and-dam canal, but he evacuated Egypt before anything
came of it.  Of course, all those ancient canals were very narrow and
shallow, and no boat now dignified with the business of carrying cargo
for profit could have entered any one of them."


MEHEMET ALI WAS WARY

"Mehemet Ali, the great pasha who founded the present Egyptian
khedivate, was urged to attempt the canal project, but he was wary.  At
last he pushed it aside, and listened to the Englishman, Robert
Stephenson--the father of the railroad.  Under Stephenson's supervision
he built a railroad from Cairo to Suez, connecting with the line from
Cairo to Alexandria.  This formed the "great overland route" to India,
and brought great trade and many rich tolls to the Egyptians.

"The time came when Said Pasha ruled in Cairo.  To him came Ferdinand
de Lesseps.  Years before, while a clerk in the French consulate
general in Cairo, De Lesseps dreamed the dream of the great canal.  He
was not an engineer, but he was a master diplomatist.  He unfolded his
plans to Said, who loved France and all Frenchmen, and met with
encouragement.  It was a magnificent scheme.  The canal was not to cost
Egypt one cent, but was to pay fifteen per cent. of its receipts to the
Egyptian government, and at the expiration of ninety-nine years was to
become the absolute property of Egypt.  On such terms the concession
was given to De Lesseps in 1856.

"Then De Lesseps went forth to get the money.  France had just come out
of the Crimean War and could not advance money for ventures.  England
was opposed to a canal that would let anybody have a chance at India,
and the English government did everything possible to prevent the
Frenchman from obtaining funds.  He failed in Europe, for he could not
get enough even for a survey of the canal.  Nothing daunted, he went
back to Egypt and borrowed money enough from Said to survey the canal
and to exploit it through Europe.  Then came much planning and more
concessions, and much stock jobbing; but by 1860 the French company was
again without money.  Again the appeal was made to Said, and not
without avail; for he subscribed for more than one-third or the total
capital stock and promised to advance money for the construction
work--and all for a project that was not to cost Egypt anything.  That
was the beginning of Egypt's bondage to the money lenders of Europe,
for Said had to borrow the money he gave to the canal."


ISMAIL PASHA WAS EASY

"In 1863 the magnificently extravagant Ismail Pasha came to the throne
of Mehemet Ali.  He burned with ambition to make himself the greatest
ruler in the world, and the canal was a darling of his heart.  He was
the ready and willing victim of the loan sharks of Europe, and he would
sign anything in the way of an obligation if there was a little yellow
gold in sight.

"Meanwhile the canal was progressing slowly.  Ismail ordered the
Egyptian peasants to do the work under the ancient _corvée_ system.
Every three months 25,000 drafted fellaheen went to the big ditch to
dig.  Every three months a miserable remnant of the preceding 25,000
left the dead bodies of their comrades beneath the dump heaps.

"The Suez Canal was dug for the most part by those poor creatures who
scooped up the sand and dirt with their bare hands and carried it up
the steep banks to the dumps in palm-leaf baskets of their own making.
Task masters with cruel whips of hippopotamus hide punished the sick
and the fainting, as well as the lazy.  There were no sanitary
precautions, and the men died by the thousands.

"This horrible condition of affairs aroused the indignation of John
Bull, who protested to the sultan.  The sultan ordered the employment
of fellaheen labor to be stopped.  Then De Lesseps and the canal ring
descended upon Ismail and held him responsible for damages.  The case
was left to the arbitration of Napoleon III., who decided for the canal
ring, and Ismail was forced to pay a fine of nearly $10,000,000 because
his titular sovereign lord had ordered that Ismail's subjects should
not be murdered in the canal ditch.  Each month a new obligation was
fastened upon suffering Egypt.  Finally, when the canal was completed,
Ismail gave a great fête to celebrate its opening.  Few festivals have
been so magnificent, none so extravagant.  The celebration cost
$21,000,000.  Verdi wrote the opera _Aida_ to order that Ismail might
give a box party one evening, and an opera house was built especially
for that purpose."


ENGLAND IN CONTROL

"But Ismail had signed too many notes of hand.  The day of reckoning
came.  Ismail sold his canal shares to the English government, and by
their purchase Benjamin Disraeli gave the British empire dominion over
the traffic between the East and the West.  It was a bold stroke, and
it brought to an end the commercial aspirations of the French of the
Second Empire.  The canal company still has its chief offices in Paris,
its clerks speak French, and its tolls are charged in francs, but
otherwise it is English.

"Ismail was dethroned and died in exile, his magnificence forgotten.
De Lesseps ventured on another canal project, was plunged into
disgrace, and died a mental wreck.  Egypt, which once levied toll on
all the commerce passing between Orient and Occident, now watches the
trade ships pass by.  The digging of the canal was the greatest blow
ever given to Egyptian commerce.  But the losses of Ismail and De
Lesseps and Egypt make up the gain of the civilized world.

"Opened just forty years ago, its importance has increased with every
year, and its revenues are expanding each month.  It cost $100,000,000,
half of which was spent in bribes and excessive discounts.  With modern
machinery, such as is being used at Panama, it could have been built
for one-quarter as much.  As an engineering problem it is to the Panama
Canal as a boy's toy block house to a forty-story skyscraper.  How it
will compare with Panama as an avenue of commerce is a question to
which Americans anxiously await the answer."


The jubilee of the Suez Canal, work on which commenced in 1859, took
place on April 25, 1909.  When I passed through in 1874 its depth was
about twenty-six feet; the present depth is about thirty-two and a half
feet, and improvements are now going on which will bring it to
thirty-four feet.  The original width was seventy-one feet on the
bottom, and this has been gradually increased until at present the
bottom width is ninety-seven and a half feet.  In 1870 there passed
through the canal four hundred and eighty-six ships, whose gross
tonnage was 654,914.  Last year 3,795 ships used the canal, and their
total tonnage was over 19,000,000.  Truly this is one of the world's
greatest conveniences!

[Illustration: PILLARS OF THOTHMES III., KARNAK, EGYPT, WITH TWO YOUNG
MEN ON THE LOOKOUT FOR BUSINESS.  THEY ARE BOTH WORTHY OF EVERY
ENCOURAGEMENT]

These reminiscences take me back again to Alexandria, as it was there
that an original seaboard bank was founded.  Its first president was
Katchaskatchkan, a nephew of King Ram's.  The old man saw to it that
all the "squeeze" from the corn crop money was deposited here and that
it held the margins on Joseph's grain corner.  "Katch" broke his neck
by falling into the wheat pit, but the incident was soon forgotten in
the advancing prosperity of the bank.  The place is in ruins, but we
saw the "paying teller's gun," which was a decorated club with spikes
on it; it lay unnoticed in a nook in the big amalgamated copper vault,
covered with papyrus books and records of the bank.  Some of the old
past due notes on the shelves were still drawing interest and you could
hear it tick like the clanking cogs when a ferry boat makes her
landing.  The writer fairly shudders at what the interest on those
notes would now amount to, computed at five per cent. (the prevailing
rate paid for call loans in that historic corner), remembering that the
interest on a penny compounded at this rate since the dawn of the
Christian era would now represent fourteen millions of globes of
eighteen-karat gold, each globe the size of our earth!  We could not
help philosophizing on the change which had taken place in banking
principles and methods since those old days; and the whole inspection
was very interesting.

[Illustration: OBELISK OF THOTHMES I AND QUEEN HAPSHEPSET XVIII
DYNASTY.  TWO FINE OBELISKS IN THE TEMPLE OF KARNAK--A LITTLE
TOPSY-TURVY LOOKING AND VERY MUCH IN NEED OF REPAIRS]

I am reluctant to leave Egypt without saying a word about the "teep,"
as this land is the very home, the embodiment--the Gibraltar, so to
speak, of the wide-open palm for services rendered--or even when they
are not rendered.  Egypt is not the only place, however, of which this
can be said; there are others.  But no matter where the dear American
tourist lands he "gets it" both coming and going, and the "neck" is
usually the place where it first attracts his attention.  It is not a
new thing, by any means, for the Greeks suffered more from it than we
ever have.  They called it "gifts," and if a man didn't give, why, he
got nothing, just as he gets nothing to-day in "Del's" if he tries to
escape with a glad smile instead of the regulation tariff.  Usually, as
we all know, the rough time is at the reckoning and the departure, if
you haven't done the handsome.  The waiter, if he knows his business,
makes you feel your cheapness if you attempt to "do" him with an
affable "Good-night," instead of the real thing.  The change is so
arranged for you that you may have a wide choice of coins, but if that
scheme misses fire, there are still left the overcoat and the hat.  The
man who can pass through these ordeals with his nerve unfrayed and look
through the waiter as if he were a pane of glass, would never have
turned a hair if placed in front at the charge of Balaclava.  I
remember writing a _menu_ card for a dinner once, and when I came to
the sweetbread course it was shown that if you hadn't a coin you must
still do something.  Lucullus was waiting on the bank of the river Styx
for his turn on Charon's ferryboat, and of course, being a shade, he
had no money in his clothes; but this is what was said:

  When Lucullus got on Charon's skiff
    He didn't have a cent;
  So he handed out a sweetbread
    And on the boat he went.


This was as straight a tip as was ever given to a waiter or at a
horse-race.  There was nothing between Lucullus and the "bread line"
except his last sweetbread; yet as a gentleman he gave it up to the
ferryman rather than lose his poise when leaving the earth.

But to return to the twentieth century, about four thousand years since
the incident just related occurred: we have a variety of names for the
same thing.  It is _pour boire_ in France; _tip_ in England; _macaroni_
"for the crew" in Italy; _sugar-cane_ "for the donkey" on the Nile;
_bakshish_ in Africa; "_bakshish_" the first word the traveler hears
when he gets there, "_bakshish_" the last when he is leaving.  Why,
they say the Sphinx herself tears her hair and plaintively wails when
the sun has set, "_Bakshish!  Bakshish!!  Bakshish!!!_"  And the only
reason she does not hold out her hands for it is that she hasn't any.

[Illustration: THIS IS WHERE "RAM" FELL DOWN AND HAS NEVER SINCE BEEN
"LIFTED."  IT TAKES _PIASTRES_ TO PUT SUCH A BIG MAN ON HIS FEET.
STONY MACADAM, PRESIDENT OF THE BAKSHISH TRUST & TIPPING COMPANY, WITH
HIS CASHIER AND ENTIRE BOARD OF DIRECTORS IN ATTENDANCE.  IT'S A TOUGH
PROBLEM "STONY" CAN'T SOLVE IF THERE'S MONEY BEHIND IT]

Sailing from Alexandria we headed for the Straits of Messina and
reached them the day following, taking a passing look at Etna and
Stromboli.  Messina was not so badly damaged, we thought, as had been
reported, and it will undoubtedly be rebuilt.  Then we steamed past
Capri and made fast to the wharf at Naples.



ITALY

NAPLES

After strolling round Naples for a couple of days we took the train for
Rome.

On one of these strolls I saw what seemed to me a curious funeral.  There
were six horses with nodding plumes, hung with black robes, and driven in
three spans by a coachman who was a wonder in himself.  He wore a hat
with an enormous yellow cockade; a purple coat; patent leather Hessian
boots, with tassels; green tights showing the shape of his fine calves
(of which he was evidently very proud), and on his whip he carried many
silk ribbon bows.  "Beau Brummel" might have had a coachman like him--but
I doubt it.  Through a pane of glass might have been seen, thoroughly
ornamented and painted for public inspection, the face of the principal
whom these proceedings interested no more.  The hearse sported a forest
of plumes also, and behind it stalked six stalwart, high-class,
professional mourners, likewise in green tights and Tower-of-London hats,
all members of the Pallbearers' International Union (purple card), with
flowing beards and curling moustaches--probably the only men on earth
whom money causes to weep and pluck their beards in pretended sorrow when
in the throes of their commercial emotion.  If paid enough money they do
not hesitate to use the onion freely to produce the real thing in tears.
Next followed a dozen of mere puling mutes, of no caste or distinction
whatever but that lent by a big brass badge on the breast of each.  Then
came four rickety carriages of the Columbus era; they hadn't a soul in
them, but their cloth upholstered seats had been whitewashed with white
lead and showed by many cracks the risk any live human would take in
entering the vehicles.  There were no relatives of the dead present--and
you could not blame them.  The question arose, What is the meaning of it
all?  It seemed as though they had consigned the man to the grave at the
least expense with no bother--a curious form of burial from our
standpoint; it was strictly professional.


ROME

Rome has been so thoroughly exploited that perhaps the writing of a
layman on the subject would not interest the reader, so I shall not
attempt to go into details, for they would fill a very large book.  Since
I last visited it the city had grown to be large, clean and prosperous,
under the careful and serious management of the king, whose business in
life seems to be the welfare of his people and the advancement of their
best interests.  I met him and the queen at the Arch of Constantine; he
saluted, as he does to every one he meets when walking alone in the
suburbs of the city.

The three things that I remembered with the greatest interest on leaving
Rome--and I still admire them most of all--were Caracalla's Baths, the
Coliseum and the Forum.  Perhaps no purely secular work of man has ever
approached the Baths of Caracalla in sumptuous, artistic magnificence and
splendor.  They were more than a mile long and a little less than that in
width.  They consisted of three vast baths, marble lined, with rare
mosaic floors: one for cold water, one for tepid and a third for hot
water.  There were dressing rooms, refectories, lounging gardens, schools
of art, a court for athletes, another court for gladiators.  Highly
carved marble columns supported the roofs and the rarest statues stood in
niches.  The bathing capacity was the largest ever planned.  To sit there
alone and people it, as when it was at its best, with all the glory of
the emperor, the court ladies, the vestal virgins, senators, warriors,
artists, men of letters and the rest, is a treat to the imagination that
cannot be realized on any other spot.

[Illustration: THE ARCH OF CONSTANTINE, ROME--ONE OF THE FINEST EXTANT.
THE EMPEROR THOUGHT IT ALL OUT AND PLANNED IT TO ASTONISH POSTERITY, AND
INCIDENTALLY TO RECORD HIS OWN GREATNESS]

The Coliseum is the largest amphitheatre ever built: it is more than a
third of a mile in circumference; it had seats for fifty thousand and
standing room for thousands more.  The arena was two hundred and
seventy-three by one hundred and twenty feet.  Beneath it were the dens
for lions, tigers, bears and bulls, with rooms for the gladiators and the
human victims.  It was opened by Titus with a festival lasting over three
months in 80 A.D., and five thousand wild animals were killed during the
festivities.  It was the place where the Christian martyrs met their
deaths under the persecuting emperors.  The imagination runs riot while
trying to picture the tragic scenes that took place within its walls in
the presence of multitudes.  It had a "bad eminence" all its own.

The Forum was in the early days the very heart of Rome, and all that was
great in it.  It contained over sixty temples, public buildings, tombs,
triumphal arches, columns and great statues.  Here Cicero and other
orators spoke to the people, and famous teachers made it their resort;
its name represented the thought and refinement of the age of which it
was the glory.

When I was in Rome I happened to be domiciled in a bedroom that had a
connecting door with another room of the same size.  This door was of
course locked, the other room being occupied by an Italian.  We had to
make a flying start for Naples at 5 A.M., and I got up at 4, in order to
shave, dress and breakfast in time to catch the train.  I opened the
proceedings by starting to strop my razor on a big leather strop; the
door being quite flimsy, my Italian neighbor heard me distinctly, and as
he was trying to fall asleep he became very angry, jumped out of bed and
protested in loud and profane language.  I paid no attention to his
protest and then he rang his bell long and violently.  As I wanted to
make a respectable appearance at breakfast, I kept on stropping
diligently.  This added to his indignation, and when the chambermaid
entered his den in response to the bell, he ordered her to go into my
room and stop the noise.  She rushed toward me and intimated that the
gentleman was at the point of death--that he might die at any moment from
heart disease, unless he were permitted to sleep.  I felt that a guest
had a right to shave in his own room, therefore I did not desist.  My
irate neighbor then jumped out of bed and in his _pajamas_ ran downstairs
and brought up the manager, the cashier, the porter and a hall-boy.  When
I opened my door the deputation implored me to cease stropping and start
shaving at once, and thus restore peace to the strained situation.  I
explained that I was hurrying to the train and that this would be the
last of me; at which the Count rushed forward and grasping my hand,
exclaimed:

"Pardon, signor! shave all you like and do it now, but don't, for
heaven's sake, miss the train on any account, for if you commence that
horrible slapping again I shall make my way to the nearest mad house!"

When the cause of the disturbance had ceased, he soon fell asleep, and
when I began to lather my face he was artistically playing a "_fluto_"
obligate with his nose.  At this I began to knock on the door, and he at
once called out:

"What now?  What you want?"

"I want you to stop snoring or I'll alarm the house and have you
expelled."

"Ah, you get even with me, you do!  I catch the leetle joke.  What will
you haf to drink, signor? the wine is on me."

We left Rome and went by train to--


POMPEII

On a former visit to Pompeii I thought it a grand place, but after all,
when the traveller has seen the best, it is ordinary and commonplace.  It
was a town of only about 30,000 people and almost all of them escaped, so
no particular distinction belongs to it in any respect.

We continued on to Naples, and on the following morning took a local
steamer for Sorrento.  We had a look at Vesuvius, which was quiet and
somewhat depressed--as it had lost six hundred feet of its cone at the
last eruption.


SORRENTO

Landing at Sorrento we took a thirty-mile carriage drive along the
precipitous coast, resting and lunching in a convent at Amalfi, perched
high up on the hillside whither we had to climb.  Then another drive to
the train, which landed us back in Naples in the early hours of the
morning.


MONTE CARLO

Again we embarked on the _Cork_, and landed at Villefranche.  Next day we
drove through Nice and on to Monte Carlo, where we witnessed the motor
boat races.  After dining at the _Hotel de l'Hermitage_, we visited the
temple of chance with its twenty-five tables, devoted to a variety of
games.  It was all a distinct disappointment.  The much vaunted
decorations on the walls of the rooms were polychromatic but
uninteresting--attempts at classic decoration such as an Italian
sign-painter could easily equal when working for his board.  The building
itself was overdone in elaboration, and represented French architecture
in the era when it had "broken loose."  The grounds, however, were fine
and the flower display the finest to be found anywhere.  The players, men
and women, were a debased crowd, of all nationalities.  Sordid greed had
eaten into their faces and there was no delight for them in anything
except in grabbing the gold the turn of the wheel gave them--and it
didn't give them much in return for what they staked.  The games are
"square."  There is no cheating other than the well understood
"percentage" in favor of the bank, but they are played so quickly that
the player's capital is turned over thousands of times in a week, and as
each turn means on the average a loss to him of the "percentage," the
money does not last long.  Some gamblers plunge for large sums for a
short time, and are lucky enough to "break the bank at Monte Carlo;" but
they return and give it all back to the prince with interest.  All he
asks of them is that they shall keep on playing at his game.  The visitor
wonders most at the dexterity with which the money of all varieties is
raked, tossed and flung about the board by the croupiers, with apparently
the utmost recklessness and without mistakes.  They have spent their
lives at it and know it the way Paderewski knows his keyboard.  Three men
are employed at each table to follow all the betting, and they watch like
hawks every one playing.  So perfectly is the whole thing done that never
a word is spoken; it's all action--simply the placing of the coin on the
spot.  Most of the players have systems they follow, and prick their
cards at each play.  Hundreds of others who have no money follow their
systems, just to see whether they would have won if they had had anything
to risk.

[Illustration: THE FORUM, ROME'S GREATEST HISTORICAL CLUB, WHERE EVERY
MAN HAD A HEARING IF HE HAD ANYTHING TO SAY.  SOME GREAT THINGS WERE SAID
THERE AND THOUGHTS COINED WHICH ARE PASSING CURRENT AS OUR OWN TO-DAY]

We had a charming, moonlight drive back to Villefranche along the shores
of the Mediterranean, where the _Cork_ lay awaiting us, and when all were
aboard we steamed out through the Straits of Gibraltar to Liverpool.


LIVERPOOL

It was a general holiday at the time in that city, and I lounged about
the streets, looking at the crowds of people.  The "Pembroke Social
Reform League" was holding a mass meeting at the foot of Wellington's
monument in St. George's Square to protest against the Government's
building eight _Dreadnaughts_ at a cost of 14,000,000 pounds.  The crowd
was all composed of working men and was most orderly; the speakers were
clever and moderate in their attitude.  I became interested, and edged up
to the foot of the steps in order to hear what was said.  The meeting had
lasted about an hour, when one speaker in finishing, remarked:

"I see an American here: will not the gentleman step up and tell us how
America feels about these things?"

I was immediately threatened with heart disease and protested, but before
I knew what I was about a couple of them had pulled me up on the steps
and I was really "up against it," so I had to say something or beat an
ignominious retreat.  I have always been in full sympathy with
disarmament and the reduction of naval fleets, so I told them I had just
returned from Spain, Italy and Turkey, and had there seen the armies
drilling and the idle navies anchored in the ports, for the most part at
the expense of the poor people, many of whom had neither food nor decent
clothing.  At this point a young man called out:

"We are Englishmen--we want no Yankees here!"

I replied:

"Young man, you have made a bad start: I was born less than three hundred
miles from where I stand, and I visited this square many times before you
were born."

This statement was received with applause and I was allowed to finish
what little I had to say in peace.  The meeting adjourned after
unanimously passing a resolution protesting against the _Dreadnaughts_.
Meetings of this character were held continuously all day.

[Illustration: THE BATHS OF CARACALLA, ROME, WHERE THE ROMANS HAD THE
BEST TIMES OF THEIR LIVES AND WERE ALWAYS IN THE PICTURE WHILE IT LASTED]

Then we took a new steamer to New York, and the cruise of the _Cork_ was
a thing of the past.

Retrospectively I might add that we suffered from a kind of artistic and
historical dyspepsia, brought about by our inability to digest the
immensity of the things we had seen and their variety.  After leaving
Madeira the stopping places came so fast that our sightseeing was indeed
hard work, each new place blotting out the one that had preceded it.
Undoubtedly we would after a while remember the scenes and places
visited, and we would surely do so if we read the standard writers on
these subjects.

Of the management it may be said that it had a Herculean task to perform,
and its work was well done.  If the amount of detail it had to face and
arrange had been placed in less skilful hands or neglected, it would have
been fatal to our comfort and progress.

My companions were on the whole a bright, alert and sympathetic company.
Here and there, of course, there was some friction; human nature, under
the strain put upon it by the length of the cruise and the number of
people, could not be expected by the most exacting critic to behave
better.  The unimportant differences of opinion and misunderstandings
that arose under trying circumstances will fade with the years as they
fly by, and leave only bright, pleasant, interesting memories of all the
wonderful things it was our privilege to see on this remarkable trip.

I offer a humble apology for the slang I have used in these pages, but it
has seemed almost impossible to describe the scenes in connection with
Jerusalem and Cairo without it--in fact, I couldn't help it!

I regret exceedingly that the anonymous character of this little effort
will not permit me to mention the names of many men and women who, by
their good-fellowship, sincerity and helpfulness, assisted one another to
pass the time and make things "go," when sometimes the going was far from
good.

If in any of these lines I have given offence I hope to be pardoned, as
none is intended.  Every one knows that a succession of compliments and
eulogies makes uninteresting reading, therefore I feel sure of being
thoroughly understood; and further, I should like to add that I believe
the formula, "I move we adjourn," will be appreciated by the patient and,
I hope, forgiving reader.  At this stage of the proceedings the aeroplane
must be lowered to kiss the dew and so glide into its hangar, regrets
being current that we had not the pleasure of Messrs. Cook and Peary's
company as passengers.

THE AUTHOR.




THE END





End of Project Gutenberg's A Fantasy of Mediterranean Travel, by S. G. Bayne