Egypt and its monuments . deliciousdancing procession in honor of Rameses is very funny and very happy; full of the joy of life—a sort of radiant cake-walk of old Egyptian supple are these dancers! They seem to haveno bones. One after another they come in line uponthe mighty wall, and each one bends backward to theknees of the one who follows. As I stood and lookedat them for the first time, almost I heard the twitter offlutes, the rustic wail of the African hautboy, the mo-notonous boom of the derabukkeh, cries of a far-offgaiety such as one often hears from the Nile by
Egypt and its monuments . deliciousdancing procession in honor of Rameses is very funny and very happy; full of the joy of life—a sort of radiant cake-walk of old Egyptian supple are these dancers! They seem to haveno bones. One after another they come in line uponthe mighty wall, and each one bends backward to theknees of the one who follows. As I stood and lookedat them for the first time, almost I heard the twitter offlutes, the rustic wail of the African hautboy, the mo-notonous boom of the derabukkeh, cries of a far-offgaiety such as one often hears from the Nile by these cries came down the long avenues of thecenturies; this gaiety was distant in the vasty hallsof the long-dead years. Never can I think of Luxorwithout thinking of those happy dancers, without think-ing of the life that goes in the sun on dancing, are a few places in the world that one asso-ciates with happiness, that one remembers always witha smile, a little thrill at the heart that whispers, There. LUXOR joy is. Of these few places Luxor is one—Luxor thehome of sunshine, the suave abode of light, of warmth,of the sweet days of gold and sheeny, golden sunsets,of silver, shimmering nights through which the songsof the boatmen of the Nile go floating to the courtsand the tombs of Thebes. The roses bloom in Luxorunder the mighty palms. Always surely beneath thepalms there are the roses. And the lateen-sails comeup the Nile, looking like white-winged promises offuture golden days. And! at dawn one wakes with hopeand hears the songs of the dawn; and at noon onedreams of the happiness to come; and at sunset one isswept away on the gold into the heart of the goldenworld; and at night one looks at the stars, and eachstar is a twinkling hope. [ Soft are the airs of Luxor;there is no harshness in the wind that stirs the leavesof the palms. And the land is steeped in light. FromLuxor one goes with regret. One returns to it withjoy on dancing feet. One day I sat in
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