DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.4393#0108
90 A THOUSAND MILES UP THE NILE.
fury of the storm went on increasing. The wind howled;
the river raced in turbid waves; the sand drove in clouds;
and the face of the sky was darkened as if by a London
fog. Meanwhile, one boat after another was hurled to
shore, and before nightfall we numbered a fleet of some
twenty odd craft, native and foreign.
It took the united strength of both crews all next day to
warp the Philaj and Bagstones across the river by means
of a rope and an anchor; an expedient that deserves
special mention not for its amazing novelty or ingenuity,
but because our men declared it to be impracticable. Their
fathers, they said, had never done it. Their fathers'
fathers had never done it. Therefore it was impossible.
Being impossible, why should they attempt it ?
They did attempt it, however, and, much to their aston-
ishment, they succeeded.
It was, I think, toward the afternoon of this second
day, when, strolling by the margin of the river, that we
first made the acquaintance of that renowned insect, the
Egyptian beetle. lie was a very flue specimen of his race,
nearly half an inch long in the back, as black and shiny as
a scarab cut in jet, and busily engaged in the preparation
of a large rissole of mud, which he presently began labo-
riously propelling up the bank. Wo stood and watched
him for some time, half in admiration, half in pity. His
rissole was at least four times bigger than himself, and to
roll it up that steep incline to a point beyond the level of
next summer's inundation was a labor of Hercules for so
small a creature. One longed to play the part of the Dens
ex machina and carry it up the bank for him; but that
would have been a denouement beyond his power of ap-
preciation.
We all know the old story of how this beetle lays its
eggs by the river's brink; incloses them in a ball of moist
clay; rolls the ball to a safe pi ace on the edge of the desert;
buries it in the sand; and when his time conies, dies con-
tent, having provided for the safety of his successors.
Hence his mythic fame; hence all the quaint symbolism
that by degrees attached itself to his little person, and
ended by investing him with a special sacredness which
has often been mistaken for actual worship. Standing by
thus, watching the movements of the creature, its untiring
energy, its extraordinary muscular strength, its business-
fury of the storm went on increasing. The wind howled;
the river raced in turbid waves; the sand drove in clouds;
and the face of the sky was darkened as if by a London
fog. Meanwhile, one boat after another was hurled to
shore, and before nightfall we numbered a fleet of some
twenty odd craft, native and foreign.
It took the united strength of both crews all next day to
warp the Philaj and Bagstones across the river by means
of a rope and an anchor; an expedient that deserves
special mention not for its amazing novelty or ingenuity,
but because our men declared it to be impracticable. Their
fathers, they said, had never done it. Their fathers'
fathers had never done it. Therefore it was impossible.
Being impossible, why should they attempt it ?
They did attempt it, however, and, much to their aston-
ishment, they succeeded.
It was, I think, toward the afternoon of this second
day, when, strolling by the margin of the river, that we
first made the acquaintance of that renowned insect, the
Egyptian beetle. lie was a very flue specimen of his race,
nearly half an inch long in the back, as black and shiny as
a scarab cut in jet, and busily engaged in the preparation
of a large rissole of mud, which he presently began labo-
riously propelling up the bank. Wo stood and watched
him for some time, half in admiration, half in pity. His
rissole was at least four times bigger than himself, and to
roll it up that steep incline to a point beyond the level of
next summer's inundation was a labor of Hercules for so
small a creature. One longed to play the part of the Dens
ex machina and carry it up the bank for him; but that
would have been a denouement beyond his power of ap-
preciation.
We all know the old story of how this beetle lays its
eggs by the river's brink; incloses them in a ball of moist
clay; rolls the ball to a safe pi ace on the edge of the desert;
buries it in the sand; and when his time conies, dies con-
tent, having provided for the safety of his successors.
Hence his mythic fame; hence all the quaint symbolism
that by degrees attached itself to his little person, and
ended by investing him with a special sacredness which
has often been mistaken for actual worship. Standing by
thus, watching the movements of the creature, its untiring
energy, its extraordinary muscular strength, its business-