October 18th, RamadÁn, 1842.

My dear Friend,

The leading topic of conversation in this country, at the present time, is the state of the Nile, which has hitherto (to the 18th of October) continued rising, and occasioned a general fear that a severe plague will ensue on the subsiding of the inundation. In 1818, it rose until the 16th of October; but never so late since that time, nor for a considerable period before. Our house is flooded in the lower part; and in some of the streets of Cairo, the water is within a foot of the surface, while it has entered many of the houses.

This is the 12th day of RamadÁn, or the month of abstinence; and I do heartily pity those who observe the fast, for the weather is again intensely hot, and it is marvellous how any person can observe the law, denying himself from daybreak to sunset even a draught of water. I really think there are very many conscientious fasters; and it would interest you exceedingly to walk through the streets of Cairo during this month, and observe the varieties of deportment visible among the people. Some are sitting idly, holding an ornamented stick, or with a string of beads in their hands. Boys, fasting for the first time, and even men, are endeavouring to distract their attention with the most childish toys; while many are exhibiting, in various ways, that fasting does not improve their tempers.

Some days since, as it drew near the hour of sunset, an aged couple were passing near our present dwelling, the old woman leading her blind husband by the hand, and carrying his pipe, that it might be ready for him as soon as the law should allow him to enjoy it. Bent as they were by age and infirmity, it was sad to see that they were evidently among the fasters, and it was a sight to excite compassion and respect; for as so many of the aged sink into their last earthly home, when the month of abstinence has passed, the fear that they too might prove martyrs to the requirements of their religion was far from groundless, and naturally present to the mind of the observer.

The great among the Muslims in general turn night into day during RamadÁn; therefore they are seldom seen in the streets. Most of them sleep from daybreak until the afternoon; while others break their fast in private. I do not think that this is done by the lower orders; and no one can hear the cry of joy which rings and echoes through the city at sunset, when, in token that the fasting is over, for at least some hours, a cannon is discharged from the citadel, without rejoicing with the people, that another day of RamadÁn has passed. But no sound is so imposing as the night-call to prayer from the numerous menarets. I mentioned to you our impressions on hearing it first at Alexandria; but here, in Cairo, it is infinitely more striking. On some occasions, when the wind is favourable, we can hear perhaps a hundred voices, in solemn, and indeed harmonious, concert. Here the Mueddins, raised between earth and heaven, call on their fellow-creatures to worship Heaven’s God; and oh! as their voices are borne on the night-wind, let the silent prayer of every Christian who hears them ascend to a throne of grace for mercy on their behalf. They are more especially objects of pity, because they have the light of the Gospel in their land; but how is that light obscured! prejudice, and (shall I write it?) the conduct of many Europeans dwelling among them, and calling themselves Christians, have blinded their eyes, and because of the sins of others, the true Christian spends his strength in vain. Far be it from me to cast a sweeping censure, but our respectable and respected friends here will join me as I raise my voice against those nominal Christians, who, by their profligacy, prove ever “rocks a-head” to the already prejudiced Muslim. This always important city may now be ranked among “men’s thoroughfares” in a wide sense, and we must only hope that the day may come when the phrase, “these are Christians,” will no longer convey reproach.

The Mohammedan months are lunar, and consequently retrograde; and when RamadÁn occurs in the summer, the obligation to abstain from water during the long sultry days is fearful in its consequences. At sunset, the fasting Muslim takes his breakfast; and this meal generally commences with light refreshments, such as sweet cakes, raisins, &c.; for, from long abstinence, many persons find themselves in so weak a state, that they cannot venture to eat immediately a full meal. Many break their fast with merely a glass of sherbet, or a cup of coffee. This refreshment is succeeded by a substantial meal, equal to their usual dinner. They often retire to obtain a short sleep. Usually, two hours after sunset, criers greet all the persons in their respective districts, beating a small drum at the doors, and saying something complimentary to the inmates of each house. Again, the morning call to prayer is chanted much earlier than usual, perhaps an hour and a half before daybreak, to remind all to take their second meal; and the crier also goes another round, making a loud noise, in which he perseveres until he is answered, at each house where his attention is required. Thus, you see, no small pains are taken to remind the faster to avail himself of his opportunities; and it is singular to hear the variety of noises which disturb the nights of this most unpleasant month. At daybreak, each morning, the last signal is made from the citadel, by the firing of a cannon, for the removal of all food; and on some occasions, this report seems to shake the city to the very foundations. The open lattice windows oblige us to hear all the noises I have described. Our windows are furnished with glazed frames, in addition to the carved wooden lattice-work, but the former are only closed in the winter, for those who desire to enjoy any sleep during the hot season must keep all windows (and if possible doors also) open. Judging by my own surprise at the degree of heat we have endured since our arrival, I imagine you have no adequate idea of it. On my opening, a few days since, a card-box full of sealing-wax, I found the whole converted into an oblong mass, fitting the lower part of the box.

As to the vermin of Egypt, I really think that the flies occasion the greatest annoyance, so abundant are they, and so distressing. Nets placed at the doors and windows exclude them; but there are days, indeed weeks and months, in Egypt, when the temperature is so oppressive, that it is not possible to allow the air to be impeded, even by a net. Musquitoes, too, are very troublesome in the mornings and evenings, and much reduce the comfort of early rising. This is a serious inconvenience here, for we find the most agreeable hours are in the early mornings and in the cool evenings, after sunset. The old houses abound with bugs, but in this respect we have been particularly fortunate; for we have not been annoyed by these very disgusting insects. Fleas are very troublesome during their season, I am told, but with us their season has not yet begun; and I think and hope cleanliness in our houses will, in a great degree, prevent their attentions. “There are insects” (as I once heard a lecturer on natural history express himself) “which must be nameless in all polite society;” therefore, my dear friend, they must be nameless here, but of these we have seen five. These arrived at five different times in parcels of new linen from a bazaar, and their arrival has occasioned the closest scrutiny when any thing new is brought to us.

Rats, also, are extremely annoying, and nothing escapes their depredations, unless secured in wire safes, or hung up at a sufficient distance from the walls. These animals run about our bedrooms during the nights; and I sometimes think they come in at the open windows. They are generally harmless, but sufficiently tiresome. Lizards, too, are very common, but perfectly innocuous, and occupy themselves entirely on the ceilings and windows in chasing flies, on which they seem to subsist. I told you I feared much from the antiquated cobwebs that spiders would be numerous. They are so, truly, and so very large that I will not risk giving my opinion of their size; it is so far beyond any European specimen I have seen. But the gravest annoyances are scorpions, and of these we have found three, one of which was exactly three inches in length. I was much distressed on finding these, but comforted on hearing that if the wound they inflict be immediately scarified, and an application of sal ammoniac be made, it does not prove fatal. These applications, however, though absolutely necessary, are very painful; and I trust we may be spared the necessity of resorting to such means. Fearing for my children, for their sakes I am a coward, and I feel it is ever necessary to bear in mind that we cannot wander where we can be outcasts from the care of Heaven, or strangers to the protecting Providence of God.

I have suffered this letter to remain unfinished for a whole week, expecting daily that I might be able to tell you of the end of this year’s inundation. This I am now able to do; but must first mention, that we have experienced a most extraordinary storm of wind, accompanied by such clouds of dust, that we were obliged to close our eyes and wait patiently until its fury had in some measure passed away. When it abated we looked out upon the city, and could only see the tops of its menarets above the sea of dust, and its lofty palm-trees bending before the blast. I have heard such a hurricane, during the night, once since our arrival in Cairo, and fearful indeed it was, but I have never seen its effects until now. This was not one of the winds to which the Easterns give a name, such as the ZÓba’ah, the KhamÁseen winds, or the Samoom; but a strong sweeping wind from the northeast. In looking down upon the many ruins of Cairo, I feel astonished by the fact of their withstanding such a hurricane. A storm like this is generally preceded and followed by a perfect calm.

This day (the 25th of October) is the first of the decrease of the Nile. It is usually at its greatest height, as I have already mentioned, at the end of September. It is not extraordinary that it should be a high inundation; that is well accounted for this year, as it has been in the two preceding years, by the construction of many new embankments, but it is the lateness of the inundation which is so exceedingly unusual. It rose considerably on the 23d instant, and on the 24th slightly; and I find no one with whom we are acquainted here among the residents who remembers such an occurrence.

“A very grievous murrain,” forcibly reminding us of that which visited this same country in the days of Moses, has prevailed during the last three months, and the already distressed peasants feel the calamity severely, or rather (I should say) the few who possess cattle. Among the rich men of the country, the loss has been enormous. During our voyage up the Nile, we observed several dead cows and buffaloes lying in the river, as I mentioned in a former letter; and some friends who followed us two months after, saw many on the banks; indeed, up to this time, great numbers of cattle are dying in every part of the country, and the prevailing excitement leads me to recur to the subject.