the effect of his subtler efforts now drowns them altogether.
The crowd, in fact, appears to grow noisier and more restless every half-hour. The laughter and shouting and chatter of a British gathering of expectant sightseers would have died away into the silence of fatigue and of its dogged endurance long ere this; but the animation and mobility, the bird-like chirp and hop and twitter of these people seem inexhaustible. Except for a row or two of greybeards on the upper tiers, they are never still. Every turban seems in perpetual movement, every eye rolling, every mouth grinning, every hand gesticulating. The mere shifting play of colours which it produces is wearying to the eye and brain. It is almost a relief when, at certain, or rather uncertain intervals, the bank is cleared, and another side of the almost infantile Egyptian character is exhibited, as childish fear and submissiveness take the place of childish merriment and noise. The Mudir, as we
