Cairo and Damascus. These muster the largest numbers, and are marshalled with the greatest splendor. The departure of the pilgrims from Cairo is the event of the year. They are accompanied out of the city by a military procession, and by a vast multitude mounted on horses and camels. Their return is welcomed with still greater demonstrations. Troops go out to meet them, and escort them into the city; crowds throng the streets through which they pass; the Khedive, surrounded by his officers of state and by thousands of soldiers, awaits their coming; and when the sheikh rides into the public square on the sacred camel, bearing the sacred carpet which for one year has covered the tomb of the Prophet, the bands strike up their most triumphant airs, which are answered by the thunder of cannon from the Citadel.
If such be the splendor of their departure and return, something of this must surround their great encampment on the desert; for of all these caravans moving to and fro, and of this religious enthusiasm rolling between Cairo and Mecca, Nukhl is the centre. Standing in front of the fort, I could not but think what a spectacle it must be when the plain is covered with thousands of pilgrims, of different Oriental races and languages, in the picturesque costumes of the East; and how impressive the scene when, as the sun touches the western horizon, all turn, as by a common instinct, towards Mecca, and bow upon the sands and worship.
With such associations as these, this plain is not altogether desolate. Few things in a country are more suggestive than its roads, especially those which lead to great capitals, and along which sweeps a flood of tumultuous life. The Coliseum itself has not more associations than the Appian Way, over which the legions marched, "bringing many captives home to Rome"; and hardly less inter-
