  Cairo—Cheop’s Pyramid—Venice—The St. Gotthard Tunnel—On the Rhine—Visit in Holland and England—Father Nugent—Arrival at New York. The train has stopped, and we are in Cairo, the capital of Egypt. The beautiful, the joyous, the memorable Cairo, with its gorgeous mosques, its half mystic, half historical monuments, its narrow streets, and a life, a commotion and an oriental splendor strongly reminding one of the legends “One Thousand and One Nights.” In company with a friend from America I visited the principal mosques, bazars, parks and other places of interest, and the next day we drove out to the great Cheop’s pyramid, which is located about eight miles from the city. Here I again met with a monument of antiquity which filled me with wonder and admiration. The pyramid of Cheops was built before the birth of Moses,—yes, before Jacob came down with his sons to Egypt,—and it is possible that Joseph pointed out the same to his aged father as a proof of the greatness of the country and its resources. MOHAMMEDAN MOSQUE. According to Herodotus one hundred and twenty thousand men were occupied twenty years in building it. Its base covers about eleven acres, and its height is about four hundred and eighty feet. One can get an approximate idea of the enormous mass of material in it, when it is calculated that it contains stone enough to build a wall one and a-half feet thick and ten feet high around all England,—a distance of nearly nine hundred miles. The renowned Sphinx is hewn out of the solid rock. It is in a reclining position, and, although partly buried by sand, I could easily trace its back for a distance of thirty paces. At the foot of the pyramid I met an Arabian chief, a gesture from whom showed me that he belonged to the mystic brotherhood of Free Masons, which gave rise to warm handshaking, and an interesting conversation through the aid of my interpreter. In pressing the hand of this son of the desert sighing under despotism, and reading the feelings of his heart through the wrinkles of his face, while he talked of the great country in the West, whence I came, and whose free institutions, granting equal rights to all, were to him a heavenly light pointing forward and upward, I felt more deeply than ever before what a blessing it is to be a citizen of a commonwealth where a man is measured, not by his birth or his wealth, but by his own personal merits. THE PYRAMIDS AND THE SPHINX. Returning to Cairo the remainder of the day was spent in the Boulak museum, among the most wonderful antiquities RAMSES II., WHEN YOUNG. Their bodies—yes, even their features—were well preserved. They lie in coffins of wood, which show skilled workmanship, the corners being carefully dovetailed together. Even their shrouds and ornaments of flowers and herbs show plainly that the style of dressing the dead among the Egyptians four thousand years ago was very much the same as it is now with us. RAMSES II. When I stood among the ruins of Pompeii or of the tower The following day I took the train for Alexandria. The railroad follows the river Nile in its general course. The valley is densely populated, and wretched mud houses and villages appear in every direction. The cholera had now broken out in its most deadly form, and we saw many dead and dying at the stations. The steamer Tanjore lay ready to sail for Europe, and I was soon comfortably quartered in one of its spacious cabins. NILE BOAT. On Sunday, June 3d, a beautiful Italian day, as we were rapidly steaming north through the Adriatic sea, we could see the coast of Greece to the right and that of Italy to the left. We arrived at Brindisi the same afternoon, and at Venice two days later. Surely the beauties of nature and of art that meet the eve in this lovely city seem to be the climax of everything beautiful on earth, and, quietly gliding forward during many hours through numerous canals in a half-dreamy, half-waking condition, with two silent gondoliers at the oars, I could scarcely realize whether this was a beautiful dream, an illusion, or reality. RIALTO BRIDGE IN VENICE. The next morning, accompanied by an interpreter, I walked through St. Mark’s square, carefully studying its many wonderful attractions, its splendid shops, the clock, the With a shudder I crossed the Bridge of Sighs, with its horrid associations, and spent a quarter of an hour in the dark dungeons to which it leads, and in which so many poor mortals, prisoners often without accusers and guiltless of crime, had sighed and suffered through the cruelties of man to man, well knowing that when they crossed that bridge into the dungeon, they had left all earthly hope behind. In Venice I parted with my American companion, Mr. Robins, in whose company I had traveled all the way from Madras. Having promised to be in Holland at an early day, I was compelled to hurry, and left Venice on the evening of the second day. This time I took the route through the St. Gotthard tunnel, which is nine and a half miles long, and through which it takes nearly half an hour to pass. The beautiful lake Como and the grand Alpine scenery have been so often described, that I consider it superfluous to dwell on them in these pages. In Mayennes I left the railroad and took the steamer down the beautiful Rhine to Cologne, passing the vine-clad hills and the mediÆval castles, in delightful conversation with some American and Swedish tourists just returning from the German watering places. From Cologne I traveled by rail to Rotterdam, where I arrived June 9th, and met my old friend, G. P. Ittman, one The next day we all met at the office of the vice-president of the company, the banker Mr. W. F. Ziegelar. The board of directors held a meeting, at which I was elected business manager for America, and it was decided that Messrs. Ziegelar and Rebeque should meet me in America a month later, and that all of us should then proceed to New Mexico to inspect the property and investigate the economical standing of the company, after which I could decide whether I would accept the position or not. A few days later Mr. Ziegelar accompanied me to London, where one of the directors and many of the creditors of the Maxwell Company resided. Here I also found some friends from India, and in their company spent a couple of days at the beautiful country residence of an English nobleman, Sir Balfour. Among the prominent and excellent men with whom I formed an acquaintance at that place was Maj. Horace Durrant, formerly of the queen’s hussars, who was also largely interested in the Maxwell Company, and one of the men from different countries, nationalities and creeds who will always live in my memory like beaming stars on life’s varied journey. Soon afterward I renewed my acquaintance with John Ennis in Liverpool, an Irishman, and a friend of mine for more than twenty years. He is a man who is never happier than when he can do someone a favor, and he has had occasion to do me many. In the evening he took me out to Soon the great tent was filled, and could contain no more. Then a little man appeared on the platform, whom Mr. Ennis introduced to me as the Rev. Father Nugent, an Irish Catholic priest, very small in stature, but with a countenance beaming with intelligence and benevolence. He stepped to the front, and the moment he was seen by the vast audience order and perfect silence reigned. Here was another Keshub-Chunder-Sen, but with no new religion or doctrine to advance, only re-echoing what the man of Nazareth had said to the same class of people eighteen centuries ago. This priest has done much noble work, rescued many from a life of degradation, brought up and secured places in America for thousands of street gamins and orphans, and his name is better known, especially among the English-speaking Catholics, than that of any king or emperor. And who would not rather be a Father Nugent than a king? In the morning of the fourth of July I arrived in New York city, and soon found President Chester Arthur, Gen. Garfield’s successor, occupying rooms near my own in the Fifth Avenue hotel. After breakfast I was given an interview with |
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