Idolatry | Page 5

name.
It has seen the mystic ceremonies of Egyptian priests, and counts their
boasted wisdom as a twice-told tale. It has watched the unceasing toil

of innumerable slaves, piling up through many ardent years the idle
tombs of kings. It has beheld vast winding lengths of processions
darken and glitter across the plain, slowly devoured by the shining city,
or issuing from her gates like a monstrous birth.
But whither wander we? Standing in this hotel of modern Boston, we
must confine our inquiries to a far later epoch than the Pharaohs'. Step
aside, and let the old history sweep past, like the turbid and eddying
current of the mysterious Nile; forbearing to launch our skiff earlier
than at the beginning of the present century.
The middle of June, eighteen hundred and sixteen: the river is just
beginning to rise, and the thirsty land spreads wide her lap to receive
him. Some miles to the north slumbers Cairo in white heat, its outline
jagged with minarets and bulbous domes. Southward, the shaded
Pyramids print their everlasting outlines against the tremulous distance;
old as they are, it seems as though a puff of the Khamsin might
dissolve them away. Near at hand is a noisy, naked crowd of men and
boys, plunging and swimming in the water, or sitting and standing
along the bank. They are watching and discussing the slow approach up
stream of a large boat with a broad lateen-sail, and a strange flag
fluttering from the mast-head. Rumor says that this boat contains a
company of strangers from beyond the sea; men who do not wear
turbans, whose dress is close-fitting, and covers them from head to
foot,--even the legs. They come to learn wisdom and civilization from
the Pyramids, and among the ruins of Memphis.
A hundred yards below this shouting, curious crowd, stands, waist-deep
in the Nile, a slender-limbed boy, about ten years old. He belongs to a
superior caste, and holds himself above the common rabble. Being
perfectly naked, a careless eye might, however, rank him with the rest,
were it not for the talisman which he wears suspended to a fine gold
chain round his neck; a curiously designed diamond ring, the
inheritance of a long line of priestly ancestors. The boy's face is
certainly full of intelligence, and the features are finely moulded for so
young a lad.
He also is watching the upward progress of the lateen-sail; has heard,

moreover, the report concerning those on board. He wonders where is
the country from which they come. Is it the land the storks fly to, of
which mother (before the plague carried both her and father to a
stranger land still) used to tell such wonderful stories? Does the world
really extend far beyond the valley? Is the world all valley and river,
with now and then some hills, like those away up beyond Memphis?
Are there other cities beside Cairo, and that one which he has heard of
but never seen,--Alexandria? Wonders why the strangers dress in
tight-fitting clothes, with leg-coverings, and without turbans! Would
like to find out about all these things,--about all things knowable beside
these, if any there be. Would like to go back with the strangers to their
country, when they return, and so become the wisest and most powerful
of his race; wiser even than those fabulously learned priestly instructors
of his, who are so strict with him. Perhaps he might find all his
forefathers there, and his kind mother, who used to tell him stories.
Bah! how the sun blisters down on head and shoulders: will take a dive
and a swim,--a short swim only, not far from shore; for was not the
priest telling of a boy caught by a great crocodile, only, a few days ago,
and never seen since? But there is no crocodile near to-day; and,
besides, will not his precious talisman keep him from all harm?
The subtile Nile catches him softly in his cool arms, dandles him,
kisses Him, flatters him, wooes him imperceptibly onwards. Now he is
far from shore, and the multitudinous feet of the current are hurrying
him away. The slow-moving boat is much nearer than it was a minute
ago,--seems to be rasping towards him, in spite of the laziness of the
impelling breeze. The boy, as yet unconscious of his peril, now glances
shorewards, and sees the banks wheel past. The crowd of bathers is
already far beyond hearing yet, frightened and tired, he wastes his
remaining strength in fruitless shouts. Now the deceitful eddies, once
so soft and friendly, whirl him down in ruthless exultation. He will
never reach the shore, good swimmer though he be!
Hark! what plunged from the bank,--what black thing moves towards
him across the water? The crocodile! coming with tears in