Helouan, Egypt,
November 1897.

Here we are in lovely sunshine (the thermometer at 80° in the shade), just on the edge of the desert, and quite contented to rest a while (after a very anxious voyage) before we move on up the Nile.

We sailed from London on October 1st, and had a smooth trip down the Channel, but I soon found my patient was much more of an invalid than I had expected, and was afraid he would get cold before we got into a warmer climate.

The first Sunday out we ran into a dense fog off Cape Finisterre, and our morning service was somewhat disturbed by the constant hooting of the foghorn; some of the passengers jumped up from their knees at each hoot, and the captain cut the service rather short and went up on the bridge. In a couple of hours we emerged into lovely sunshine, which soon dried the wet decks and awnings, but the next day, as we were putting on full steam to get into Gibraltar before sunset, we again ran into a thick bank of fog, and eventually had to change our course and put out to sea until the morning, as they are not allowed to run through the Straits after sunset.

The next morning I was up on deck before five, just as we were running into Gibraltar, and to watch the sun rise from behind the great rock was a most impressive sight.

We had a pleasant trip down the Mediterranean until we entered the Gulf of Lyons, and then the wind got up, and there was a nasty cross sea which made most of us feel squeamish and not sorry when we anchored at Marseilles early one morning; but there we had to tranship to a smaller steamer, and it was raining and cold, and when we got on board the Clyde we found they were still coaling, and that the lighter with all our baggage on board was not likely to come for some time, so we could not establish ourselves in our cabins. As there seemed no comfortable place on the boat, we concluded the best thing to do was to take a cab and drive up to a hotel to get warm. Then I went out to buy fresh cream and grapes, and to find out exactly at what time it was necessary to be on board.

I shall never forget the storm of that night after we left Marseilles. I tried to make some hot arrowroot; with much patience I managed it over a spirit lamp, which I wedged into my washing basin with supports; of course the tin of milk could not be trusted to sit on the top of the lamp, so I had to hold it there, and it was not an easy matter as I was flung from side to side in my cabin; then I found that a linseed poultice was indicated, so I again retired to my cabin and wrestled with the spirit lamp, and thought how little one appreciates the conveniences of a modern hospital until one has to do without them.

After that the groans and fearsome noises from other cabins around us were very bad, and I, who have always prided myself on being a good sailor, actually succumbed for an hour or two; but I dragged myself up again in the early hours of the morning to make another poultice, and by breakfast-time the sea began to go down, and the sun came out, but it was several days before some of the passengers crawled up on deck, looking like limp rags, and the tables in the saloon were very empty until just before we reached Alexandria.

We stayed some hours at Malta, and I had an interesting drive round the place.

From Alexandria we had meant to go straight on to Cairo, but eventually agreed it was best to stay a night at a hotel in Alexandria to rest before the dusty train journey.

We had a wretched night, and, not knowing how to find a good doctor if I needed one, I felt very lonely in a vast hotel where no one seemed to speak English.

The next day we managed to journey on to Cairo in the morning, and rested at Shepherd's Hotel until the evening, and then moved on to this place—about half an hour by rail from Cairo, and actually on the borders of the desert.

We have many friends in Cairo, and there is a good train service, so they often come out to spend the day with us, or for the afternoon, and then sometimes I go into Cairo to do necessary shopping or to pay some visits. Cairo is a very gay place, and the people very pleasant and friendly.

One day I went to lunch with some friends, and they drove me to see the Citadel (driving all through the native quarter of the town), and then we had tea with the sisters at the Military Hospital—a rambling big place, designed for a palace and not for a hospital—and they seemed very full up with enteric patients.

Then we went to see the Mosque, and were seized by the feet by several Arabs, who tied on sandals for us before we went inside, and in these we were allowed to flop about. The Mosque is a vast dome, nearly all marble and alabaster, with a lovely alabaster fountain, where the people wash their feet before going in to pray.

We walked all round the fortifications, and had a splendid view of Cairo, and then drove back to town just in time to see the Khedive arrive from Alexandria; a stout, sad-looking young man, his native escort very smart, and riding such beautiful little horses.

Another day I was invited to bicycle out from Cairo to Mena House; so I went into Cairo by the early morning train, and mounted a hired bicycle for the nine-mile ride to Mena House Hotel. The first two miles seemed very perilous, as our route lay all through the town, and many water-carts made the roads very slippery, and electric trams and steam trams rushed about in a most confusing way, and natives in swarms (many of them blind) seemed to take a pleasure in strolling in our track, and stupid donkeys and sad-eyed camels with unwieldy loads kept turning about in unexpected directions, and looking at us in a reproachful way, as much as to say they thought bicycles quite out of place in their country.

The narrow bridges over the Nile were thick with traffic, and I was quite glad when we got out to the open country and on to a good road with trees all along.

We left our bicycles at the hotel, and walked out to the great Ghizeh Pyramids, really a most marvellous sight.

The big Pyramid covers as much ground as Lincoln's Inn Fields; enormous blocks of stone, apparently just tumbled one on the top of the other, and yet the whole worked into such perfect shape. To think of how they can have brought these vast blocks of stone down, without mechanical help, from Upper Egypt (for there was no such stone to be found near there) is indeed wonderful.

The Temple, also, is a thing to marvel at, great blocks of granite and alabaster cut and fitted together so perfectly, the doorway as straight as possible, and to think that all this work was done from 3000 to 5000 years ago and is still as sound as ever.

We had not time to climb the Pyramid, but of course we paid our respects to the Sphinx, and wished we could stay to see her by moonlight, when she is said to be even more impressive than in the daylight.

They gave us a very good lunch on the balcony of the hotel, which is said to be the best managed in Egypt; and I should think it would be a very pleasant place to stay at, nice airy rooms and a lovely marble swimming-bath at the back.

As we rode back there was a good deal of wind against us, and I was out of practice and rather tired, so I found the crowded streets of Cairo alarming, and was much relieved to give up my bicycle without having run over any one or damaged the machine.

I think there was more of a crowd than usual, as the Khedive had driven to the station to meet the King of Siam, and we saw the whole procession pass on their way back to the palace.

The King of Siam was very gorgeous in a white uniform with much gold lace, and his two sons were a somewhat curious contrast to the natives around, in their Eton suits and top-hats; they are going up the Nile on a private boat.

Helouan is beginning to fill up for the season (we were about the first arrivals), and we have many visitors. We are in comfortable lodgings, quite on the outskirts of the village; the servant who chiefly waits upon us is a fine Arab with a black moustache, who stalks about in a white night-gown down to his heels, tied round with a red sash; he wears a red fez cap with a blue tassel, and red sandals on his feet; he does most of the housework, for which purpose he puts a housemaid's apron with a bib over his night-gown! His name is "Abdul" (the "slave of God"); and there is a small Arab boy called "Ishmael," who runs messages, and is most interested in our doings.

The mosquitoes are pretty bad at night here, and we have to sleep in nets. Last week we had two days with a south wind blowing, and then the beasts—creeping, crawling, and flying—were a trial; there were great wasps (quite three times as large as English ones), and horrid little beasts that look like bugs (only they fly and don't bite) settling on our dinner-table;—I am sure the south wind must have been blowing in the time of the plagues of Egypt!

I am busy collecting things that we want to take up the Nile for our house, as we shall then be 450 miles from the nearest shop, and it is rather difficult, as I don't know at all what the house is like.

There are so many things that I should like to do and see in Cairo, but I have not time, as we are leaving by the first tourist steamer that goes up the Nile, and I don't like to be out for any length of time, but I did manage a visit to the great native hospital, the Kasr-el-Aini, where I know several of the sisters.

It is a very fine place with a very up-to-date theatre; the nurses are all natives (men for the male patients), but they all work under the English sisters.

The sisters have a most delightful Home, their dining and drawing rooms are very spacious apartments, and they each have a very large room, which most of them screen off into bed and sitting rooms.

There is a special fund which provides a carriage and pair for their use, and they have a very good tennis court in their garden, in which they are "At Home" one day each week, and the Cairo people go to tea with them and to play tennis.

I have not told you a word about the native bazaars and all the quaint sights of the Cairo streets, but every one writes about them, and I find them too dazzling to describe. I could sit for hours on the balcony at Shepherd's Hotel just doing nothing but watch the people. Take my advice, and come to see Cairo some day, for it is a most fascinating place, and I am quite loth to leave it.