DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.14563#0098
CHAPTER VIII.
the desert and the railroad.
The first view of the great Lybian desert, which some
fifty miles north of Cairo encroaches upon the very bank
of the Nile, impressed us powerfully by its contrast with the
richness of soil we had hitherto seen. We went on shore,
and began to traverse the sea of sand, hoping to gain a ridge
that would command a distant prospect. But the ridge
receded as we advanced, and after an hour's walk, we
seemed no nearer than when we started, for there was
nothing by which the eye could measure distances. How-
ever, from a slight elevation which we gained, we saw
before us an immense arid waste, stretching as far as the
eye could reach, but broken into ridges by sand drifts, where
the whirlwind or the sirocco had spent their fury. It was a
solemn and impressive sight. Yet even in this waste were
signs of life. Here and there a few stinted shrubs marked
where the sand was a recent deposit upon a good soil, and
the sight of a little girl tending a solitary calf far from any
human habitation, showed us how tenacious is the poor
Egyptian peasant of every inch of fruitfulness. The feather
of an eagle, and the feather of a dove, that lay upon the
sand, were suggestive of a life-struggle that had here been
waged between the victim and the destroyer.
But most affecting was the sight of a whole village
deserted and buried by the sand, even the sycamores and
the palms that had been planted and cherished to shield it'
the desert and the railroad.
The first view of the great Lybian desert, which some
fifty miles north of Cairo encroaches upon the very bank
of the Nile, impressed us powerfully by its contrast with the
richness of soil we had hitherto seen. We went on shore,
and began to traverse the sea of sand, hoping to gain a ridge
that would command a distant prospect. But the ridge
receded as we advanced, and after an hour's walk, we
seemed no nearer than when we started, for there was
nothing by which the eye could measure distances. How-
ever, from a slight elevation which we gained, we saw
before us an immense arid waste, stretching as far as the
eye could reach, but broken into ridges by sand drifts, where
the whirlwind or the sirocco had spent their fury. It was a
solemn and impressive sight. Yet even in this waste were
signs of life. Here and there a few stinted shrubs marked
where the sand was a recent deposit upon a good soil, and
the sight of a little girl tending a solitary calf far from any
human habitation, showed us how tenacious is the poor
Egyptian peasant of every inch of fruitfulness. The feather
of an eagle, and the feather of a dove, that lay upon the
sand, were suggestive of a life-struggle that had here been
waged between the victim and the destroyer.
But most affecting was the sight of a whole village
deserted and buried by the sand, even the sycamores and
the palms that had been planted and cherished to shield it'