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By Root 1401 0

the tumultuous, rocky rapids of the First Cataract is hazardous, we had to leave the steamer at Assouan and take the railroad to Shellal, at the south end of the cataract. There we were fortunate enough to find passage on a paddle wheeler. The captain turned out to be an old acquaintance of Emerson’s. A good many of the inhabitants of Nubia turned out to be old acquaintances of Emerson’s. At every wretched little village where the steamer took on wood for the boiler, voices would hail him: “Essalâmu ‘aleikum, Emerson Effendi! Marhaba, Oh Father of Curses!” It was flattering, but somewhat embarrassing, especially when the greetings came (as they did upon one occasion) from the painted lips of a female individual inadequately draped in a costume that left little doubt as to her choice of profession.

Our quarters on the steamer, though far from the standards of cleanliness upon which I normally insist, were commodious enough. Despite the inconveniences (and the awkwardness I have referred to earlier), I greatly enjoyed the trip. The territory south of Assouan was new to me. The rugged grandeur of the scenery and the ruins lining the banks proved a constant source of entertainment. I took copious notes, of course, but since I plan to publish an account elsewhere, I will spare the Reader details. One sight must be mentioned, however; no one could pass by the majestic temple of Abu Simbel without a word of homage and appreciation.

Thanks to my careful planning and the amiable cooperation of Emerson’s friend the captain, we came abreast of this astonishing structure at dawn, on one of the two days each year when the rays of the sun lifting over the eastern mountains strike straight through the entrance into the farthest recesses of the sanctuary and rest like a heavenly flame upon the altar. The effect was awe-inspiring, and even after the sun had soared higher and the arrow-shaft of golden light had faded, the view held us motionless at the rail of the boat. Four giant statues of Ramses II guard the entrance, greeting with inhuman dignity the daily advent of the god to whom the temple was dedicated, as they have done morning after morning for almost three thousand years.

Ramses stood beside us at the rail, and his normally impassive countenance showed signs of suppressed emotion as he gazed upon the mightiest work of the monarch whose namesake he was. (In fact, he had been named for his uncle Walter; his father had proposed the nickname for him when he was an infant, claiming that the child’s imperious manner and single-minded selfishness suggested that most egotistical of pharaohs. The name had stuck, for reasons which should be apparent to all Readers of my chronicles.)

But what, you may ask, was Ramses doing at the rail of the steamer? He should have been in school.

He was not in school because the Academy for Young Gentlemen in Cairo had been unable to admit him. That is the word the headmaster used—“unable.” He claimed they had no room for another boarder. This may have been so. I had no means of proving it was not. I cannot conceive of any other reason why my son should not have been admitted to a school for young gentlemen.

I do not speak ironically, though anyone who has read certain of my comments concerning my son may suspect I do. The fact is, Ramses had improved considerably in the past few years. (Either that, or I was becoming accustomed to him. It is said that one can become accustomed to anything.)

He was at this time ten years old, having celebrated his birthday late that summer. Over the past few months he had shot up quite suddenly, as boys do, and I had begun to think he might one day have his father’s height, though probably not the latter’s splendid physique. His features were still too large for his thin face, but just lately I had discovered a dent or dimple in his chin, like the one that lent Emerson’s handsome countenance such charm. Ramses disliked references to this feature as much as his father resented my mentioning his dimple (which he preferred to call a cleft, if he had to refer to it).