Americans in the Egyptian Army: Diary of an American Girl in Cairo

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DIARY OF AN AMERICAN GIRL IN CAIRO,
DURING THE WAR OF 1882.

BY FANNY STONE.

From The Century Magazine, June, 1884

INTRODUCTORY LETTER.

FLUSHING, LONG ISLAND, April 4th, 1884.
EDITOR OF THE CENTURY.

DEAR SIR: My daughter has corrected the proof of her diary which you sent her.

At your request I add a few words of explanation, giving some general account of the circumstances under which the diary was written.

As you are perhaps aware, I was at that time, and had been for a dozen years, the Chief of the General Staff of the Khédive in Egypt. My duties at that critical period required me to be a part of the time in Alexandria and a part of the time in Cairo. On the 6th of July I took the evening train for Alexandria, expecting to return on the 8th. On the 8th I found it impossible to leave, as matters looked very threatening, and I could not telegraph for my family to leave Cairo without creating more panic. I felt that it was probable that the British Admiral would eventually bombard Alexandria, but I could not conceive that he could bombard an open sea-port after having proclaimed that he entered its harbor “as a friend,”—certainly not without giving such clear and timely notice that the thousands of Europeans residing in the interior cities (to whom no notice was given) would have opportunity to leave; for he and all the British authorities must have known perfectly well that the bombardment of Alexandria by any European fleet would cause the enraged inhabitants to work vengeance on all Europeans who might be in the country, of whatever nationality.

To my astonishment the notice of only twenty-four hours was given, and that notice was given late in the afternoon of the 9th of July, after the departure from Cairo of the last train on that day for Alexandria. At the same time the foreign war-ships and ships of refuge were advised to quit the harbor at noon on the 10th !

This barbarous disregard on the part of the British of the lives of citizens of all other nationalities caused me, as well as thousands of others, fearful anxiety, and caused the horrible death of scores of Europeans—French, Germans, Austrians, and Italians.

I was forced to decide in a moment the best course to pursue to secure the safety of my wife and daughters a hundred and twenty miles in the interior. There was no train to leave Cairo until 8 o’clock A. M. on the 10th, and that train would be due at Alexandria at 3 o’clock P. M., three hours after the departure of the ships of refuge. I felt that four ladies struggling in a railway station for a place, in the midst of a crowd of panic-stricken Europeans, would have but small chance; and even should they succeed in securing places in the railway carriages, it was more than probable that they would be turned out at some point of the road to make place for soldiers on their way to the threatened city.

Even could they reach Alexandria, the ships would not be there to receive them, and I could find no place of safety for them in a town about to be bombarded. I hastened to the telegraph office and sent a dispatch to the senior officer of the Staff at Cairo, informing him that the British were about to act, that I remained at my post, and confided my family to the honor of the Staff. It was a desperate situation, but my decision proved to have been the correct one; for the families that left Cairo by the 8 A. M. train of the 10th arrived too late to get on board the ships, and were subjected to the horrors of the bombardment.

The following morning I placed my son on board the Lancaster frigate, and with a heart full of the deepest anxiety went about my duty near the Khédive, with as calm and cheerful a countenance as was possible.

During the day of the 9th of July, the palace of Ras-el-Tin was thronged with European officials of high grade. Even after the announcement of bombardment the English Consul-General, the English Postmaster-General (of Egypt), the English Collector of Customs, and the high functionaries of the various administrations were quietly eating their dinners and suppers in the city they were about to bombard, and jokingly discussing the probable effect of the heavy gun practice, apparently not thinking of or caring for the women and children of nationalities other than British in the interior. All British subjects had been carefully sent away.

On the 10th only five Western officials remained around the Khédive in his palace—one American and four Italians. One of these was myself; another, an Italian rear-admiral; another, the physician to His Highness; another, his secretary; the other, his master of ceremonies. These five, with a few Turkish, Armenian, and Egyptian officers and officials, formed the little court of the Khédive through the scenes of the bombardment and the three days following, during which the palace of Ramleh was surrounded by troops sent to burn it and shoot down all who should attempt to escape.

Then came the British occupation of Alexandria, and the campaign against Arabi. During this campaign I did all of which I was capable to aid the allies of the Khédive; well knowing that while such was my duty, yet the performance of that duty, day by day, and act by act, must necessarily add to the dangers clustering around my family in their isolation. In my position every act was, of course, well known and conspicuous to the enemies of the Khédive.

This situation continued for my family and myself until the 8th day of August, when I had the happiness of receiving them on board the Dakalieh at Port Saïd.

This happy result was due principally to the prompt decision of Commander Whitehead, United States Navy, who, not fearing to take upon himself responsibility when an American family was in danger, promptly acceded to my request to enter the Suez canal, and at Ismaïlia to demand of the authorities at Cairo that the family should be brought there and delivered to him on the deck of the U. S. ship Quinnebaug.

Means were taken to cause information of his resolve to reach the ears of Arabi, and he acted before being subjected to a demand in the name of the U. S. Government.

Had Admiral Seymour given even forty-eight hours’ notice of his intention to bombard, he and his Government would have been spared the frightful responsibility which now weighs upon them of causing the horrible death of European men, women, and children, who perished miserably in the interior, and of hundreds of Egyptian women and children who perished in the bombardment and in the panic flight from the hastily bombarded town.

During the so-called “massacre” of June 11th, 1882, in Alexandria, European men were struck down by the infuriated populace, but not a woman or child was injured. During the Christian bombardment of Alexandria scores of Egyptian women and children perished, and their husbands, brothers, and fathers wreaked vengeance, a little later, on the innocent and helpless Europeans at Tantah and Mehallet-el-Kebir.

Very truly yours,
CHARLES P. STONE,
Lieut.-General.

Cairo, July 6th, 1882.—This has been a day of excitement, and mamma looks pale and tired, in spite of her efforts to bear up bravely. This morning papa announced his intention of going by the evening train to Alexandria, and proposed taking Johnny with him. I saw a pained look in mamma’s eyes, and knew she would suffer much from the separation from her dear boy, even for two days only. as proposed; but he looked so wistful and longing when she asked him if he would like to go that she gave her consent. I wish she had not. I think that perhaps she would have decided differently, if he had not come to her as she was packing his traveling-satchel, and said, with an affectionate gesture, “If you need me, ‘marmee,’ or would be happier to have me stay, I shall be much better pleased to be with you.” That settled it; and with great tears dropping on his linen, she went on with the packing.

Since the massacre of last month in Alexandria mamma has been terribly anxious when papa has been called there; but as his service requires him to be there to-morrow, there is nothing left us but silent endurance and hope.

I had a wretched foreboding all day that some unhappiness was in store for us. The constant coming and going of the staff-officers, the pale faces of mamma and sister, and the alarming telegrams, all conspired to make me nervous and unhappy.

At about five o’clock I left my chamber, thinking I would go and try to comfort mamma. I met her maid in the corridor, who told me she was in her chamber, reading. Sister was with Todas Santas in the morning-room, and papa and Johnny in his cabinet (directly under mamma’s room), with a staff-officer, examining a new rifle. While the maid was still speaking there came from below a loud report. I staggered back a few steps, and just then papa and Johnny came dashing upstairs, exclaiming, “Where is your mother?” I pointed to the chamber door, and followed them in. Mamma was sitting before her toilet-table, her book fallen from her hands, her hair covered with plaster from the ceiling, and a great hole a few inches from her feet, where a bullet had pierced the heavy Persian carpet. The bullet had gone up and buried itself in the ceiling overhead, bringing down a shower of plastering. The rifle had gone off while papa was handling it!

Papa and Johnny left for Alexandria by the 6 P. M. train.

July 7th.—Telegram from Johnny saying, “All well.”

July 8th.—Letter from papa. He thinks that Admiral Seymour will finally bombard Alexandria; and that if he cannot find a pretext he will make one. Mamma had an interview with some of the staff-officers, and they say that Arabi will betray the Khédive; that he is determined to rule Egypt, and whatever the Khédive may say or do, Arabi will try to put him aside, even should it mean assassination.

July 9th.—No news from Alexandria.

July 10th.—After passing an anxious day we were startled by having the card of Ali Pacha Cherif (a cousin of the Khédive) brought to the drawing-room. We thought he was with His Highness in Alexandria, and felt instantly that he was the bearer of bad news. He came in his costume de voyage, covered with dust, and looking very much agitated. He said: “Madam, I bring you news from Stone Pacha. Admiral Seymour has given notice that he will bombard Alexandria to-morrow. The Khédive has left the palace of Ras-el-Tin, and gone to Ramleh [which is a few miles east of Alexandria, on the shores of the Mediterranean]. We had only twenty-four hours’ notice in which to escape from the city. The Christians have fled to the ships. The Mussulmans are scattered over the country trying to find safety. Stone Pacha desired me to say that he is with the Khédive at the palace of Ramleh, and your son John Bey is at sea, about ten miles out on the flag-ship Lancaster. The English threaten to keep up the bombardment twelve hours. After it is over the Pacha will return to the Hôtel d’Europe, and your son may return after a few days.”

There is great excitement in the city of Cairo. The Arab women are going through the streets to-night wailing and covering their heads with dust.

July 11th.—The staff-officers came to the house in great numbers to-day to tell us there is no danger for us. The bombardment is said to have ceased at sunset to-day. Official telegrams state that several fine buildings were destroyed, all the forts silenced, and large numbers of Egyptian soldiers killed. Some of the English ships were struck, and report says many English were killed and wounded.

Mamma tried to send a telegram to papa, but failed, as all the European employees, both here and at Alexandria, have fled, and we must wait until they can be replaced by the Egyptian operators who were turned out when the English took charge of the telegraph department; so they say. Neither can we send letters, as the post-office department is also in confusion; however, that will soon be regulated.

Mamma came to the desperate determination of sending our faithful Oster Mohammed to Alexandria with a letter to papa, asking him to send Johnny home, and imploring him to give her definite instructions as to what we shall do.

The panic is simply frightful. The trains going to Port Saïd and Suez are crowded. I thought all the Christmas had gone in the panic following the massacre; but I suppose those now going are the poor ouvriers, who hoped to stay on. The different foreign governments are paying their passage to some safe port. Mamma has ordered Mohammed to go to the Hôtel d’Europe, and if papa is not there to seek him at the Ramleh palace; and we expect him back to-morrow evening, as the express trains are stopped, and he must take any accommodation he can get. We felt very sad when we parted with the faithful creature; he has been with us for nearly thirteen years, and loves us better than he does himself. When he bade mamma good-bye he said, “My lady, I will find the Pacha if I live; and if he orders me to go to Johnny Bey, I shall go if I have to fight every step of the way.” We trust him implicitly. Oh! if papa would only tell us to go, we might reach some safe spot. But, alas! Johnny is separated from us, and every hour that we must remain increases the danger of trying to escape. The railway stations are crowded with infuriated natives who insult Christians, and I hardly believe we could get permission to have a staff-officer accompany us, as these officers are already suspected of wishing ill to the “Arabi party.” Mamma has busied herself all day in putting our clothes, or some of them, into trunks, hoping papa will tell us what to do.

July 12th.—Officers have been running in and out all day, bringing the wildest reports that are flying about the city. They say it would be extremely perilous for us to attempt to escape; at any rate, we must abide by papa’s decision. Some of the staff-officers applied for a guard for our house, and two policemen were sent to stand at our gate; but to-day mamma demanded that papa’s two orderlies from the War Department should be stationed in the garden, near the door.

They came, and we feel safer; for two finer, braver men never lived. They came to mamma to thank her for having applied for them. They said: “We never had a friend until Stone Pacha came to Egypt. He took us from poverty and wretchedness, and made us what we are, happy, well-fed, well-dressed men, with our families living in comfort. We swear by the heads of our dear children, by the bread that we have eaten, and better than all, by the Prophet, that no harm shall come to the Pacha’s wife and children until we lie dead on your door-step.”

We feel safer, but we long to have news of papa and our dear boy. I wish Mohammed would come; we thought surely he would be here this afternoon, as mamma ordered him to return by the first train after communicating with papa. Poor mamma! She ordered several nice dishes from our dinner to be kept warm, saying with a hopeful voice, “You know, girls, my boy will be ravenous after his journey.” I wonder how she can even hope he will come.

It is nearly midnight. Sister is pacing up and down her chamber, waiting. As I look from my window, I see the four armed men looking like statues in the moonlight, and two faithful servants sleeping on the graveled walk before the door.

July 13th.—Mohammed returned about two o’clock this morning, and brought a letter from papa, but, alas! not Johnny boy. He had a frightful journey down and back. The train was crowded with horses and munitions of war going down, and with wretched fugitives coming back. He was twelve hours en route to Alexandria, and found papa at midnight at the Hôtel d’Europe.

The next morning papa took Mohammed with him to see the forts. Many were utterly demolished, and he saw several dead soldiers still lying under the great cannon. They visited the hospital. It must have been a heart-rending sight; the wounded were lying on the bare stone floors, covered with blood and dust, gasping for water, and some dying for want of proper care, as there were only three doctors there. Oh, how could Arabi bring such misery on his country! Why did he not make some preparation for the sick and wounded? He evidently knows nothing of war, although he boasts of his patriotism, and makes such desperate threats against all foreign powers.

Papa’s letter was only a few lines, telling us what we knew before, that Johnny was safe on the Lancaster, giving a short description of the bombardment, and thanking her for sending him clothing, but unable to give us a hint, under the circumstances, as to what we were to do, for while he was writing the bombardment recommenced.

I watched mamma’s face as she read the letter. When I saw the tightly compressed lips, the despairing gesture with which she handed it to sister, saying, “Read it to the children, Hettie,” I knew we were in a “bad fix,” as Johnny says. We all crept off to our rooms without speaking, without even looking each other in the face. I knew positively that mamma would never leave Cairo without papa’s orders; and he, knowing the danger of Christian ladies traveling alone, cannot yet advise us to leave.

Alexandria is in flames; the soldiers and low class of Arabs are pillaging and plundering, and Arabi is encamped near Ramleh.

This morning, after breakfast, mamma called us all to her, and said: “My children, we are in great trouble, but we must look it bravely in the face, and try to help each other to bear it. Papa has a good reason, of course, for leaving us here; he may rescue us yet; only we may have to undergo great suffering in the meantime. You know he left me money enough only for a few days’ expenses. That is all gone, and I must use your little store; I shall be forced to exercise great economy, as it will last but a short time. Now, I want you to promise me to be patient, to be cheerful, and always brave. Go on with your studies, keep always busy, and trust to me to save you, if it is possible, when the worst comes. We have fire-arms enough in the house to defend ourselves until we can get help from the staff-officers; and if they fail us, you can be brave and face death like good soldiers. Only promise me never to let an Arab touch you. When it comes to that, remember I expect you to save yourselves by putting a bullet through your heart. Don’t leave me to do it.”

We all kissed her, and gave our sacred promise to do all she required; then we all went to our different duties. Johnny is safe, thank God!

We went out driving this afternoon, taking an orderly on the box with the coachman; but even he could not prevent our being insulted in words, and we shall in future be forced to remain in the house. That will be hard to bear in this hot weather; but we must be cheerful and patient, as we promised this morning.

The streets are crowded with wretched Arabs from Alexandria. They are the worst-looking people I ever saw—filthy, degraded women, and fierce, brutal men. We hear that the chief of police is almost desperate about having them pouring into the city in such numbers. What to do with them is the question. They left the trains shouting, “We have come to teach you Cairenes how to kill Christians;” and they are sleeping on their bundles of dirty rags on the sidewalks to-night.

July 14th.—Terrible news from Alexandria. The Khédive, they say, had all his preparations made to come to Cairo, where he might be with his people, and try to stop the English from taking the country. The royal train was ready and waiting for him, when the palace was surrounded by soldiers sent by Arabi to massacre him and all the court! The Khédive sent to know the meaning of the movement. When the officers of the regiment came into his presence they said: “We have been sent here to fire the palace, and shoot every person who may attempt to leave it; but we cannot do it. We want to remain with Your Highness, and guard you.” They all swore fidelity to him, but advised him to fly to the palace of Ras-el-Tin, in Alexandria, and call upon the English to protect him, as Arabi was determined to take his life. Then there was a scene of confusion-a general rush for the carriages. Those who could get none went on foot, the soldiers escorting them. They were fired upon by soldiers, or Bedouins, on the way. One carriage carrying four ladies of the court had a horse killed, and they were forced to make their way on foot through the sand and dust for two miles, in their delicate satin slippers and trained dresses. The sister of the vice-queen, Madame Daoud Pacha, who was dangerously ill, was carried on a mattress, and was so alarmed by the firing and confusion that she is in a dying condition. Not succeeding in their infamous designs, Arabi’s troops went to the railway station, and destroyed the beautiful railway carriages, smashing everything they could lay their hands upon.

The Khédive called upon the English admiral for protection, and is safe from Arabi; but oh!—God protect us!—we are in greater danger than ever, since the news has reached Cairo that General Stone remains faithful to the Khédive, even while he is with the English. We have no claim upon them now for protection. Even the staff-officers may desert us. Papa telegraphed them that he intrusted us to their honor; but at that time the Khédive was with his own people, and we were all in sympathy. Our dining-room servant was insolent to mamma at dinner to-day, and we heard him tell mamma’s maid that “the Bashaw had gone over to the English.”

Great excitement prevails in the city. All the horses are being seized for the service of the army, even the mules in the watering-carts. The dust on the streets is terrible. Sister ventured out to the chemist’s this morning in the carriage, and to her horror found the horses seized by two policemen. She remonstrated, and they were on the point of taking her to the guard-house, when an officer rushed to the rescue, and explained to the policemen that the horses of officers were not yet to be taken.

The refugees from Alexandria are being quartered in the furniture magazines of the Khédive. Arabi has retreated to Kafr-Dowar, about fifteen miles from Alexandria. There is no hope of communicating with papa.

Midnight.—Sister has just left me. She came softly into my chamber an hour ago, followed by Todas, both looking like ghosts with their pale, frightened faces, and told me that she had been roused by a tapping at her window. She sprang up and found Mohammed standing below. He had thrown a handful of gravel to waken her, being afraid to call lest he should attract the attention of the policemen, whom he distrusts. His story is a terrible one. There has been a massacre of Christians at Tantah, a station on the railroad between Cairo and Alexandria. We have been sitting here shivering with horror for an hour, and finally determined not to tell mamma until to-morrow morning, as she gets so little sleep at the best.

July 15th.—This morning we heard that seven staff-officers had been ordered to Kafr-Dowar. They are all in a terrible strait. All their sympathies are with the Khédive, and they detest Arabi. But if they refuse to obey the orders of the Minister of War, they will doubtless be shot. Mamma advised them to go, and to take the first chance to escape to Alexandria.

Mamma sent Mohammed with them, telling him to try to get permission to go to Alexandria. She has written to papa imploring him to give her permission to leave, to send her money enough to get us to Palermo, and to send Johnny to join us there.

Several of the staff-officers have offered her as much money as she needs; but she invariably makes the same reply: “You know how much I thank you for your generous kindness, but I cannot leave Cairo until I have permission from the General.”

We told her the news from Tantah, but she is firm, and will not leave until we can be sure of papa’s approval. We have faithful friends in Moktar Bey, Omar Bey, Latif Bey, Sadic Bey, Abdul-Razak Effendi, and Ismaïl-Effendi Nazeem. All of them are staff-officers. Latif Bey has refused to serve Arabi, although he was offered the command of a regiment. All these officers have offered us refuge in their houses. They said to-day, “General Stone is the father of the staff; we will protect you with our lives.”

Mamma says we must never show fear. As long as the people see that we are not afraid of them they will respect us. The instant we “show the white feather” our lives are not safe an hour. The officers are coming and going all day. Sometimes they are with us until eleven o’clock at night; and it is really amusing to see the wonder and admiration with which they regard mamma’s courage.

Arabi says he will finish this war without calling upon the staff to help him. Bah! he is a fool; the staff are the only officers worth having in the Egyptian army, and he has already called seven of them. What is to become of us if the rest of them are called?

The Moudir of Tantah has called for a regiment to quell the infuriated populace.

Mamma read, as usual, to us to-night a chapter from the “Following of Christ”; and I seem still to hear her soft, low voice saying, “It is good for us now and then to have some troubles and adversities, for oftentimes they make a man enter into himself, that he may know that he is in exile and may not place his hopes in anything of this world.”

July 16th.—Nothing of importance has happened to-day. Moktar Bey left this morning with a thousand men for Damietta; but, as he is to return immediately, we do not feel much alarmed at his absence. Mamma is anxious about our health. The heat is very great. This morning she consulted with the orderlies, and they advised her to let us take a walk in the early morning before the Arabs are awake. They will accompany us; but we shall wait until the day after to-morrow, as Ramadan commences at sunset.

Ramadan is the thirty days of fasting and prayer kept by the Mussulmans every year. It is very hard on the poor creatures when it comes during the summer season, for they are forbidden to touch food or drink between sunrise and sunset. At sunset, when the evening gun is fired, they may eat and drink, and as often as they like during the night; but they suffer greatly through the long, hot summer days. Generally they carouse all night, and sleep a great part of the day. Therefore we may take our walk before they are stirring in the morning. Tradition says that Mohammed the Prophet prayed to God for help to make his followers humble, and that God sent the Archangel Gabriel to him, saying He required all Mohammedans to pray fifty times a day for thirty days, and during that time they were forbidden to touch food or drink from sunrise to sunset. Mohammed remonstrated, saying that his people were not strong enough to pray fifty times a day and fast all day; therefore they were ordered to pray five times and fast.

I think the Franciscan monks have left. The church doors are closed, and the bells have not been rung since last Sunday. I wish they had remained. I felt so ashamed when the English clergyman left, the first one of his flock, and it has been such a comfort to sit in my window and see the good fathers at their work in the garden; and the chime of the bells was sweet in my ears, reminding me that we were not the only Christians in this dreary, unhappy city.

Our baker has gone, and in future we shall have to eat Arab bread, as ours was the last European baker in the city. He told our cook the other day that he would escape in disguise, and perhaps he may, as he has been twenty-five years in the country, and speaks Arabic like a native.

July 17th.—Mohammed returned this morning. Alas he did not reach Alexandria. When he arrived at Kafr-Dowar he went to an officer, and asked him if Stone Pacha was there. The officer turned upon him with an oath, and told him that Stone Pacha had joined the English. “But, thank God,” said he, “we paid him well for it; for we burned him to death in the Hôtel d’Europe, before we left Alexandria.” Then he ordered Mohammed to return to Cairo, and told him that if Arabi caught him there he would be shot. Poor fellow! he was in an agony of distress. He dreaded coming back to us with such heart-breaking news, and was walking slowly back to the railroad when a soldier spoke to him. Mohammed asked him if it were true that Stone Pacha was killed, and the soldier said, with a shrug of his shoulders: “Perhaps, but I doubt it. I think the Bey you have been talking to only said that to torment you. However, if you value your life, go back to Cairo at once. If you will come with me, I will disguise you as a fellah; and you had better lie down in a cattle-car, and pretend to be sleeping when you see any one approaching.”

So Mohammed went with him to his tent, put on a disgustingly soiled old galibeer, and hid himself in a cattle-car.

Mamma is evidently determined to show us how a brave woman can bear trouble. She must be suffering greatly at this moment, not knowing whether she is widowed and we are fatherless; yet the only change in her that I can see is a sort of “hunted-down” look in her eyes, and a sharp, fierce way of speaking, which is unusual to her.

This morning sister came to her and said that Ali and mamma’s maid were closeted in the pantry, and that she had overheard them speaking disrespectfully of us, calling us “dogs of Christians,” and threatening us. After a few minutes mamma called them to her in the morning-room, and even now, as I think of the interview, I tremble. She told them that they had proved themselves to be faithless wretches; that she had fed them for years, and been like a mother to them; and now, in the first moment of trouble, they had turned traitors to her. Then she told them they were mistaken in thinking they could frighten her. “There never lived the Arab,” said she, “who could frighten me. No, not Arabi and all his troops can do it. Go to your work, you miserable cowards, and the first time you look insolent I will have you thrashed. Never dare to threaten me again until you are beyond my reach!”

I never saw creatures so completely cowed and frightened as they were. They went sneaking from the room, but begged, before leaving, to be allowed to kiss her hand. They didn’t do it, however, and got a reply which must have burned their ears. This evening, when the staff-officers heard of it, they shook their heads and said that mamma was imprudent; but she fired up, and told them that her position was a desperate one and required desperate measures.

They say that the report that papa was killed is false.

July 18th.—Sister, Todas, and I took a short walk early this morning. We were accompanied by the two orderlies. We went to the little English chapel, hoping to be able to get in and get some books from the library. We found the boab sleeping at the door, and having roused him, he opened it for us. I was astonished at seeing the orderlies follow us in, and more astonished when they took cushions from the seats, and placed them on the floor to kneel upon. I asked them, “Is it possible that you are going to pray in a Christian church?” “Why not, my lady?” said they. “We Mussulmans can pray anywhere. Do we not all pray to the same good God? Jesus Christ belongs more to us than He does to you. You call Him the Son of God, which He was not. He was a great Prophet, and we love and respect Him. We love His blessed mother, too, the Sitta Miriam.”

We left them to their prayers, and went into the little library to get our books. When we reëntered the chapel we found the orderlies looking with great curiosity at the organ; and when I told them it was a “musica,” they begged me to play for them. I sat down and played “Nearer, my God, to Thee,” and when I told them how our dead President loved it, they begged me to play it again.

Todas says she never saw such a rapt expression on a face as was on theirs until the music ceased. Poor fellows! they are such fine brave men, and do so long to see us safe with papa. I wonder what Arabi and his creatures would have said could they have looked in and seen a young Christian girl playing sacred music to two armed Mussulmans in a Christian church.

Moktar Bey returned to-day. He says the whole country seems to have gone mad. He was called a Christian by a rich merchant of Damietta, because he denounced the war. There was a great meeting of the notables to-day, and Raouf Pacha, Ali Pacha Moubarek, and others were appointed to go to Alexandria and discuss the situation with the Khédive. I doubt Raouf Pacha’s getting permission from Arabi to pass. He (Arabi) very much fears that people may know the truth; they must believe his story, and he will throw every obstacle in the way of their hearing any other. Mamma is going to send a letter to papa by Raouf Pacha.

We are very fortunate in having a well-stocked store-room. Mamma says she can stand a siege of three months.

Ten more staff-officers have been called.

July 19th.—Our troubles are increasing. This morning Major Abdul Razak Effendi requested a private interview with mamma, which lasted nearly an hour. When he left she called us all to her, and told us that there had been a massacre of Europeans at Mehallet-el-Kebir; that two European officials of the cadastre had been killed, cut into small pieces, and carried about the town by a procession, while the dogs were fed with their flesh! The women made what they call “the cry of joy,” and waved their handkerchiefs. The sheiks of the mosques saved several families by shutting them up in the mosques, and afterward concealing them in their houses; and one sheik saved a gentleman by shaving his head, putting him in saïs costume, and letting him run in front of his horse to a place of safety, about ten kilomètres away. Many of the sheiks have behaved well thus far. One of them (Sheik Ibrahim) in Alexandria saved a large number of men on the 11th of June, by shutting them up in his mosque and guarding them until the riot was over.

Abdul Razak Effendi[1] says we must leave our house without delay, and advised mamma to prepare to go to-night to Omar Bey’s house. He said we ought to get away without allowing our servants (except our Mohammed) to know where we are going. Shortly after he left, Omar Bey and Ismaïl Effendi came also to urge us to leave, and Omar Bey said that we would be safe in his house. Mamma said she would consider the matter, and give them an answer at sunset.

Then we had a regular pow-wow among ourselves. Mamma told each one of us to give the best advice she could, which made us very proud, so that we chattered like three magpies, while she sat and listened. Finally she said: “Well, girls, I will tell you what I think about it. It is all nonsense to suppose we could leave this house without our destination being known; for I have seen three men watching the house the last three nights past, and they will follow us. I shall not run away from my servants like a coward, and leave my house to be pillaged. Omar Bey’s servants would betray us to their neighbors, and in case of trouble we should be caged there, and probably be the cause of ruin to his family. His house is situated in the old part of the city, where the air is foul, and we should be deprived of the comforts to which we are accustomed. The result would be disastrous in every way. We would be prisoners in an old Arab house, out of spirits, out of health, and so miserable that it would soon be a mercy if the Arabs should come and cut our throats. I propose that we stay at home like brave women, and live like Christians as long as we can.”

We always agree when mamma speaks, and at sunset she told the officers of her decision. They left us looking very unhappy.

Sister called me into the library to-night, telling me to walk softly and not to bring a light. She led me to the window and whispered to me to look through the shutters. I did so, and saw a man crouching behind the shrubbery in the garden, watching the door of the vestibule. We went out of the house by the back door to notify the men, and crept round to the lodge, where they were taking their supper; but they, in their surprise at seeing us appear there, made such a stir that the man took fright and escaped. He must have come over the wall from a neighboring garden, and I do not doubt that he had listened to all the conversation with the officers; but as this was carried on in French, perhaps he may not have understood it.

Papa has always told us never to be afraid of spies, for a man who descends to such mean work is so low that he cannot be fully believed even by those who employ him.

July 20th.—The boab of the Khédivial Geographical Society came to mamma this morning, and said that his uncle had been ordered to Kafr-Dowar, and would leave at noon. He said that if mamma would send a letter to papa by him, it would surely reach him, for his uncle’s intention was to desert and make his way to Alexandria as soon as possible. Mamma wrote a short letter, telling papa not to be anxious, and trying to comfort him by making the best of everything. We never speak of Johnny boy to mamma. A few days after he left we were all coming down-stairs to dinner, and as we turned on the first landing we saw his old straw hat hanging on the hat-rack. The boab had found it in the garden and hung it there. We fled in different directions to have our cry out, and since that day we talk of him only when the staff-officers are here. Five of them were here to-day. They do not cease urging mamma to leave our house, and take refuge in their families; and she finds it difficult to explain to them why she prefers to remain at home. Sadic Bey says we had better have our clothes packed in small trunks, as there will be no question as to the danger of our remaining in Cairo after the English attack Arabi, and the latter shall commence his retreat on Cairo. He intends to take us to Arabia with his family. We shall find it hard work traveling on camels in this hot weather.

The spy did understand our conversation, or at least enough of it to make trouble for us. Omar Bey was called to the War Department this morning, and told that he was reported as having talked treason in a certain house, and should it be repeated he would be put in irons in the citadel! We hear that several of the staff-officers have deserted Arabi, and arrived safely at Alexandria.

July 21st.—Our cook came to mamma to-day and begged her to discharge Ali, Fatmah, and the boab. He said they are all traitors to us, and he is afraid we will be poisoned by one of them. “I have been your servant for eight years,” said he, “and it is my pride to serve you well; but I must leave you unless those servants are sent out of the house, and forbidden to enter your doors again. You know you are safe with me, but I don’t trust those three, who have access to your dining-room; and should you be poisoned it would be my ruin. I will do Ali’s work, and Mohammed will attend the door.” He is a good, honest man, and I know papa trusts him perfectly. Poor mamma! she looks tired to death, and I know she hardly sleeps at all, for I frequently hear her walking about her chamber, when I wake in the night. I wish the English would hasten their preparations, and attack Arabi. He is growing stronger, and the people are beginning to believe it is a holy war. We do not receive much political news from Europe. I believe the Turks are fooling both England and Arabi; at any rate, Arabi says he is working under the Sultan’s orders, and England seems to believe that Turkey will help her to restore order in Egypt. The Turks are cunning diplomatists; but I think it may end in Turkey’s losing Egypt this time. Abdul Razak told us to-day that there are sixty Greeks left in Cairo, and they have all moved into a certain quarter of the city and are living together. They have put their houses in a state of defense, and only one-half of them ever leave at a time. They are all heavily armed, and have a signal for assembly in case of danger.

Every evening at about nine o’clock a band of children, led by a man, parade the streets crying, “Long live Arabi! God give him victory! Death to the Christians!” This evening they came and stood in front of our gate, crying, “Death to the Christians!” but the orderlies rushed out upon them with clubs, and frightened them well. Arabi’s wife pays these children to do this, and they stand for an hour at a time before her door, shouting like so many lunatics.

Mamma paid the three faithless servants, and sent them away at sunset. The two men were very sullen, but Fatmah cried, threw herself down at mamma’s feet, and begged to stay; but mamma was firm, and Fatmah left the house in tears.

July 22d.—One officer after another has been here to-day, imploring us to leave our house; but mamma positively refused to do so. Then they begged her to keep the house closed and try to make the people believe we had gone. She only laughed at them, however. She insists that our only chance of safety lies in our courage; and at sunset she has every door and window opening to the front thrown wide open, and lamps lit in the rooms. At night, on retiring, we see that the ground floor is well barricaded; but on the floor above we sleep with all our windows open. We sit in the vestibule opening on the front balcony until eleven o’clock, with five lamps in the chandelier, the door and windows open, and mamma has had the piano moved in there. We receive the officers there, and talk freely about the events of the day; but I think it would puzzle a spy to make much of our conversation, as we have adopted the plan of speaking four languages at once. We do it in this way. One of the officers makes a remark in French, sister says a few words in Arabic, I go on in Italian, and mamma in English. Sometimes, when we get confused, we explain to each other in a low voice in French. All the officers speak French well, some a little Italian, and some of them English. They do not like sitting in a blaze of light, perfectly visible from the street; but mamma’s word is law to them.

July 23d.—Mamma made an announcement at the breakfast-table this morning that fairly took our breath away. Our money will last only about a week longer! I don’t know what she intends to do about it; but when Todas said to sister and me, “Don’t fret, girls; ‘mamma’ will manage to have bread and beefsteaks for us every day, or I am a Dutchman, and she wont borrow the money for it either,” my spirits rose, and I reproached myself for not having encouraged the dear mother, by saying we would not mind living on the stores in the magazine till the end of time. I often think of what Jo said in “Little Women,” “I wonder what girls do who have not a good mother.”

To-night Todas saw a man perched in a tree, looking in at a window, and she gave the alarm; but he scrambled down and ran like a deer. The orderlies fired at him, but he got away through Rousseau Bey’s garden.

July 24th.—Mamma sent a letter to Arabi Pacha this morning, demanding papa’s pay for the month of July! The officers looked at her in perfect amazement when she told them, and said: “Madam, you will not get a centime. How could you do such an imprudent thing?” She replied: “I shall get it, but I may have to go to Kafr-Dowar before I succeed.” One of them said: “If all American women are like you, I would not like to go to war against your men.”

Mamma had a note from one of the staff-officers at noon, stating that he and another had been called to Kafr-Dowar, and that they would call in the evening to consult her about it. When they came she was ready for them in every sense of the word. She demanded to know if they had come to tell her that they were going to Kafr-Dowar to serve Arabi against their sovereign. When they said, “We must go,” she rose from her chair, and said that she was disappointed in them, that she had believed they were faithful to the Khédive, and would resign rather than serve against him.

“I am a woman,” said she; “but rather than obey an order of Arabi Pacha that would compromise my husband’s fidelity to the Khédive, I would let them kill me. You are not faithful soldiers. I cannot understand how you can go. I was not brought up to understand fidelity in this way.”

“Madam,” said one of them, “they would not accept my resignation; they would shoot me, and how would that help the Khédive or me?”

“It would not help the Khédive,” said she sternly, “but it would save your honor!”

They were very much agitated, and said:

“His Highness will understand that we were forced to go when Arabi called for us.”

“And,” said she, “will you dare to face His Highness and give the same excuse that will be given by every traitor in Egypt?”

Then they swore to her that they would do everything in their power to save their honor. She said:

“When you shall have succeeded in that, you may return and tell me so!”

Raouf Pacha has gone to Kafr-Dowar, and has carried a letter to papa. He and Ali Pacha Moubarek may be said to be the representatives of the Khédivial party here. I hope they may be allowed to pass to Alexandria.

July 25th.—The two officers are gone. They will try to escape if possible.

The moudirs [governors of provinces] who have failed to raise troops for Arabi are being brought in and put in irons at the citadel. Among them is our acquaintance Ibrahim [2] Bey Tewfik, who was formerly one of papa’s staff-officers. He is very firm and a courageous loyalist. His beautiful little daughter is one of our schoolmates.

Mamma complained to the Prefect of Police yesterday about the band of children who parade the streets, and it has been forbidden for the future. I wonder how she dares to be so bold, but she says it is the best plan, and by the results I know she is right.

Since Fatmah left we have to do the chamber-work, and I find it helps to pass the time, though it certainly does not improve the appearance of our hands; and it makes me give up a half-hour of my music lesson. I never worked so hard in my life. Mamma is always on the watch, to see that we are not idle; and even when she reads or plays on the piano for us, we are not allowed to “hold our hands.” I shall have linen under-clothing enough to last me until I am an old woman, if this lasts much longer.

How I shall enjoy being lazy by and by, if the Arabs do not kill us before the war is over!

We got a letter from papa this morning. It was brought into the lines by Monsieur de Lesseps’ servant. Papa and Johnny are at Ras-el-Tin palace with the Khédive. They are very anxious about us, not having heard from us since Mohammed was at Alexandria on the 12th; though they had heard that he was afterward at Kafr-Dowar, trying to get through to them. Papa thanks mamma for being so brave, as was shown by her letter by Mohammed; tells her to keep up good courage, promising to rescue us. Johnny was a week on board the flag-ship, and saw all the bombardment. We have a cousin, who took care of Johnny. He is a midshipman, and one of the officers of the flag-ship told papa that he is one of the finest young men he ever met. So our Johnny boy was in good hands.

There was a great row in the garden to-day. The orderlies and Mohammed called the policemen idle, lazy vagabonds, and threatened to report them to the Prefect. The policemen were insolent, and it ended in the orderlies putting on their swords and marching them off to the guard-house. One of the policemen, seeing mamma on the balcony, shouted, “I am glad to go; I don’t want to protect dogs of Christians.” They will be severely punished, for the Prefect of Police is an inflexible officer, and I think he deserves the approbation of the civilized world for the way in which he has preserved order in Cairo. He is untiring in his vigilance; and, although an Arabist, he will save his head, I hope, even if the English take Cairo while he is in charge. Not a Christian has been hurt here, not a house robbed, and he has even succeeded in sending all the Alexandrian ruffians out of town.

July 26th.—The two officers returned this morning from Kafr-Dowar, and came direct from the station to see and tell mamma. They were travel-stained and weary, but they would not go to their families until they had apprised mamma of their return. I believe they were sent for to make maps; and one, being in poor health, declined for that reason, and the other, having suffered from ophthalmia, declared the work impossible for him, so they were let off.

Arabi has sent an order for £50 on account of papa’s pay, to be given to mamma! and he sent her many compliments!!

We take our walk every morning. It is like walking through an enchanted city of the fairy tales. In the whole European quarter there is not a house open excepting our own. Even the few Arab families who have houses in this quarter have left them and gone into the heart of the city, fearing that in case of pillage they might be killed.

All the staff-officers in Cairo were here this evening, and mamma read parts of papa’s letter to them.

July 27th.—Major Abdul Razak came this morning to tell us that he and Ismaïl-Effendi Nazim have resolved to escape to Alexandria. They will not serve Arabi, and they expect every day to be called upon to do so. They are planning to get away the day after they receive their month’s pay. They implored mamma to make an effort to go with them in disguise, but she says it would be madness to attempt it.

“How could I disguise myself as an Arab peasant woman with my yellow hair and blue eyes? And it would be almost as difficult with the girls. We would be killed before reaching Ismaïlia.”

“Well, madam,” said Abdul Razak, “you will be killed if you remain. Every hour the danger is increasing; and even if we should resolve to stay, it is more than possible that we could not reach you in time of danger. We must, for your sake, try to get to Alexandria as soon as possible, and find help for you.”

“I will consult the officers before I decide,” said mamma, and so the matter stands.

July 28th.—Mamma sent for all the officers this morning and held a “council of war.” She told them that she was thinking of making an attempt to escape, and wanted their advice.

They were absolutely horrified at the idea, and told her that it would be impossible, that a rat could not escape from Cairo. Mamma did not, of course, speak of Abdul Razak’s plan, as it might have compromised him; but she told them that she was determined to make every effort in her power to reach Alexandria.

While she was speaking Abdul Razak and papa’s interpreter came in, and the former said that after leaving us yesterday he went to the War Department and learned there that two of mamma’s letters to papa had been captured and translated, to be sent to Arabi. They were taken from two men who had promised to take them safely to papa. Fortunately they contained nothing that could be disapproved of.

Nothing was decided this morning, but mamma says she has a plan which she thinks will succeed.

Sadic Bey’s wife and daughters spent the evening with us, and of course we did not see the officers again, as they cannot enter a room where Mussulman women are unveiled. Madame Sadic begged us to come to her house and try to escape with them to Arabia; but mamma told her that she had determined to reach Alexandria if possible; that since she had received papa’s letter saying he wished we were with him she had resolved to make every effort in her power. “If I fail,” said she, “I will go with you.”

We had a bad fright last night. Just about one o’clock sister heard a sharp rap at her door. She sprang out of bed and called to me. We soon roused mamma and Todas, and then we boldly demanded, “Who is there?” Then we heard Mohammed say, “I must speak to Madame.” Mamma threw on her dressing-gown, and opened the door. She found Mohammed waiting to tell her that Moktar Bey had come to get a letter for papa, as Raouf Pacha had finally obtained permission to pass Kafr-Dowar and enter Alexandria, and would leave Cairo at day-break. We girls all crept back to bed again, and mamma wrote a few lines to papa. I know now by experience that I shall be terrified almost to death if the Arabs come to attack us in the night.

July 29th.—We have been busy packing all day. Mamma has written to Arabi asking permission to leave. She stated her reasons for wishing to go, and asked that a guard might be furnished her to Ismaïlia. The letter was sent to the War Department yesterday, and when the officers came here this morning mamma read a copy of it to them. They said it was perfectly useless to have sent it; but mamma replied that Americans believe that what is worth having is worth asking for. Abdul Razak was here this afternoon, and said that there is to be a council at the War Department to-night, and Arabi has ordered mamma’s letter to be read, and the advisability of letting her go discussed.

July 30th.—There was a frightful noise in the streets last night. All the population seemed to be shouting and beating tin pans. We soon heard that an English prisoner had been brought in, and the poor foolish citizens thought it was Admiral Seymour who had been captured!

To-day all papa’s papers have been packed in good strong boxes. Mamma had the iron safe, containing his diaries for twelve years, broken open, and we hope to save them even should we be unable to take them with us. Some of the officers came to-day to tell us that when mamma’s letter was read last night at the council a Pacha rose and said: “She must not be permitted to go. She is a dangerous woman to our cause. Her house has been a rendezvous for traitors, and she is kept well informed as to everything we do.”

Mamma is beginning to show the strain upon her. She looked as though she were dying yesterday when she heard papa had been shot while reconnoitering the outposts from Alexandria. We did not believe it; yet such reports increase our anxiety. The officers begin to bring sorrowful faces to us. They say we will not be permitted to go, and we get almost distracted by the different counsels they offer—Sadic Bey urging us to fly to Arabia; Omar and Latif Beys, to go to their houses and disguise ourselves as women of the country; Abdul Razak and Ismaïl Nazim, to let them save us by flight through the desert to Port Said.

If we went to Arabia, mamma would break her heart in anxiety about papa and Johnny, and we have not money enough for such a journey. Sadic Bey replies that we would be his honored guests, and looks grieved when we give that as an excuse; but he cannot, of course, understand mamma’s pride. I think I have already given our reasons for not taking refuge in the houses of the officers, and the wild project of escaping across the desert to Port Said is not to be thought of. We would be killed by the Bedouins. Surely we shall be able to decide upon something before the army begins to retreat toward Cairo, for we shall have no hope afterward.

July 31st.—No reply comes yet to mamma’s letter. They evidently intend to hold on to us. Abdul Razak and Ismaïl Effendi are waiting to hear the decision before they attempt to escape. Their alarm for us increases day by day. They say that every evening they see men watching the house. Abdul Razak has left his own house, and sleeps at night in one nearly opposite ours, whence he could reach us quickly.

Mamma has finally decided what to do in case her demand is refused. She intends to send for the leader of that band of Greeks and ask their protection. At the first signal of danger we will go to them with Mohammed and the orderlies. Mamma was very pale when she told us of her plan, and I knew it was simple desperation that had forced her to such a decision. “We must have a fixed plan,” said she. “The staff-officers may not be able to save us, as two of them are resolved to escape, and the others may be called to the seat of war any day. These Greeks are desperate men, but they are brave. I think—indeed, I believe—they would give their lives to save us, and we have Mohammed and our brave orderlies. And now, girls, I am going to give you another shock. To-night, about nine o’clock, put on your hats and wraps. I am going to reconnoiter Cairo in the open carriage.” I thought she had gone mad, and felt so sick and weak that I could not stand. She quietly remarked, however, “You need fresh air, and I am going to try the effect of it on you, young lady.”

True enough, after dinner she ordered the open carriage, and we all followed her to the gate. The streets were in a blaze of gas-lights, and the lamps on the carriage threw their light directly on mamma’s and sister’s faces. The servants remonstrated, but it was useless. One of the orderlies mounted on the box beside the coachman, and away we went straight into the heart of the city, where thousands of Arabs were congregated on the sidewalks, eating, drinking, and smoking, after their day of fasting.

For once in our lives we created a sensation. Every man, woman, and child seemed petrified with astonishment on seeing four Christian ladies driving boldly through the streets at such a time.

We drove rapidly, as mamma said it would not do to leave them a moment in which to recover from their surprise, or we might be treated to a pistol-shot. We drove past nearly all the open-air cafés in Cairo, and only once heard a word spoken to us. One man cried after us, “Affarum ya Nousranieh!” i.e., “Bravo! you Christians!”

When we returned two officers were waiting at the door, and came to meet us. They were in despair about us, of course; but we were in such high spirits after our dare-devil drive, as they called it, that we only laughed at them.

August 1st.—We have had no answer from Arabi Pacha. Raouf Pacha is in Alexandria, and we hope much from his interview with papa. A man came this morning to say that he had come from Port Saïd, and that the American Consul there had told him to tell us that papa is working hard to rescue us.

We have had the wives of all the staff-officers here to-day. They cried, and drew such pictures of the treatment we would receive on the railway train, that I was glad to see them go away. Of course we cannot go, even should Arabi give us permission, unless he provides us with a guard.

We drove again this evening, taking a different direction, through the European quarter and across the Nile to Gezireh.

All our clothing is packed, and so are all papa’s papers.

August 2d.—Raouf Pacha arrived here last night from Alexandria, and brought a letter and money from papa. When he passed through Kafr-Dowar, Arabi told him that we might leave, and he would furnish a guard.

It seems that Raouf Pacha told Arabi that we were going to be demanded by the commander of the United States ship Quinnebaug, in the name of the United States Government, and that this ship would be at Ismaïlia on the 4th. He advised Arabi to let us go, and Arabi sent instructions to the War Department to give us notice.

This morning His Excellency Yacoub Pacha, Under Minister of War to Arabi, came to see mamma. We girls were curious to hear what he had to say, so Todas and I hid behind a portière, whence we could see as well as hear. He is a fine-looking man, very graceful and dignified, but there was a stern expression on his face, and I thought mamma would have trouble with him; for she had said laughingly, when his card was brought in, “Girls, I am going to get a special train for you, and select my guard, and Arabi’s government will pay for it.”

It was an interesting interview. I never heard before so many complimentary speeches. One would have thought that he was the best friend that papa ever had, although we know quite the contrary; and mamma was equally eloquent and skillful in her part of the conversation.

Finally he said, with a charming smile, that Arabi had ordered a special train and a guard for us. “But madam,” said he, “take no care on yourself about it, whatever; I will see that you reach Port Saïd, and your expenses will be our affair. I have telegraphed Monsieur de Lesseps to have a steam-boat ready for you at Ismaïlia.”

He then said she might take as much baggage as she chose, and when she asked if it would be examined, he looked horrified at the very idea. Bravo! we shall be able to get papa’s papers away.

Mamma asked if she might select her own guard and take three of her servants with her. He bowed, and said nothing could give him more pleasure than to gratify any request of hers. He then told mamma that it was reported in Alexandria that the English prisoner here was treated with the greatest cruelty, and he asked her if she would be so good as to visit the gentleman and talk with him freely. He said that he had given orders that everything should be done to make him comfortable, and he hoped that mamma would be satisfied with the treatment which the gentleman received. Mamma promised to go at four o’clock.

Moktar Bey accompanied him, and as he left the house he sent Moktar back to mamma to say that he feared she might have need of money on her arrival at Alexandria, and that he would be honored if she would permit him to place £500 or £1000 at her disposal. This offer was, of course, courteously declined.

At four o’clock Moktar Bey came to conduct mamma to the place where the prisoner is confined. I accompanied them, carrying several volumes of Dickens’s, Thackeray’s, and Lever’s works. Arrived there, we found that the place looked like anything else than a prison. It was the school of the young Egyptian princes, a little palace in the center of a beautiful garden near Abdin palace. We entered a pretty reception-room, and a fair young English lad came forward, smiling, to meet us. He was the picture of youth and health, with all the surroundings of such luxury as can be seen in the Egyptian capital. The apartment that he occupies is that of the Khédive’s eldest son, and his north-country clothing had been replaced by an elegant suit of white linen, much more suitable to the climate of Cairo in August.

Mamma laughingly told him that he looked to her more like a young English prince at home than a prisoner of war; and he replied that he was called the “guest of Arabi Pacha,” and that he had only to express a wish for anything except liberty, and it was gratified if possible.

We remained with him an hour and a half in pleasant conversation, and mamma could find nothing in which to add to his comfort but some English books, a small addition to his wines, and a few drawing materials. Two young Egyptians who speak English remained constantly with him, and seemed to take pride in doing everything in their power to please him. These young men followed us to our carriage, and promised to serve him faithfully.

August 3d.—Mamma wrote to the under minister to-day, thanking him for his kindness to the young gentleman, and urging upon him the duty of humanity. He replied, giving her his sacred promise that he should be carefully guarded from violence, and well cared for, and all her suggestions carried out.

Mamma called up a colonel who is under great obligations to papa, and who is devoted to Johnny, and charged him to watch over the young prisoner, and protect him as he would her son under the same circumstances, and obtained his promise.

Should he need any pecuniary assistance, this officer has orders to do all that is necessary, on papa’s account.[3]

Abdul Razak and Ismaïl Effendi have been ordered to Tel-el-Kibir, a station on the railroad to Ismaïlia, and they will leave to-morrow morning. Abdul Razak has been appointed Chief-of-Staff of that department, and thus will have many opportunities of escape, which he will take advantage of. He and mamma have arranged that she is to consult papa, and if he approves, she is to send a letter to Abdul Razak, through the United States Consul at Port Saïd, which letter is to contain a certain expression, which will be the signal. He hopes to take twelve other staff-officers with him to Alexandria. We had all our books packed to-day in strong boxes (nearly two thousand books and pamphlets) and sent to Latif Bey’s house. All our drawing-room and vestibule furniture has been stored in our friends’ houses. Mohammed and our cook are going with us. When mamma said she would take only Mohammed with us, the other servants set up a cry of woe, and implored her not to leave them behind. They kissed the hem of her dress, and said they would go anywhere with her, and serve without wages, etc. Finally, mamma decided to take the cook with us, and pacified the others by explaining that they could serve us better by staying at home and preserving our property. She has paid them two months’ wages in advance.

August 4th.—His Excellency Yacoub Pacha wrote mamma a beautiful letter to-day. I make an extract from it to show how desirous he is to please mamma, and to remind me always to be grateful to him, whatever may happen in future.

“À MADAME STONE PASHA.
. . . . . .
Quant à votre maison, vos meubles et vos chevaux, nous veillerons à leur conservation; de même les fourrages dûs aux chevaux de Son Excellence votre mari seront livrés chaque mois au Colonel Moktar Bey. Maintenant permettez-moi de vous déclarer, que, quoique je n’ai pas eu l’honneur de faire votre connaissance personnelle que lors de ma visite, je vous ai quitté plein de regrets sur votre départ. Veuille la Providence que votre absence ne soit que de courte durée, afin que vous puissiez contempler souvent mon fils Jean Bey, lequel je n’ai pu voir qu’une seule fois à Alexandrie. Ainsi je vous prie de le contempler à ma place, et de l’embrasser une fois de plus pour moi.

Je termine en vous priant de vouloir bien être l’interprète de mes sentiments auprès de S. E. le Général Stone, et d’agréer mes salutations les plus empressées.

J’ai l’honneur d’être
le plus dévoué
le Sous-Ministre de la Guerre,
(cacheté) YACOUB SAMY.”

All the families of the officers have been here to-day to bid us good-bye. Crowds of idle Arabs have been hanging about the place all day, and the orderlies have been busy chasing them away.

Ismaïlia, August 5th.—We left our house this morning and drove to Kasr-el-Nil. His Excellency Yacoub Pacha had arranged that we should leave from that place, saying it would be more private than at the general railway station. When we arrived at the palace (which serves as ministry of war) we found His Excellency and a number of officers of high grade waiting to receive us. About five hundred officials and soldiers were standing in the court of the war office, and the great vestibule was crowded. Yacoub Pacha offered his arm to mamma, and we followed, each accompanied by an officer. We passed through the vestibule, when everybody made a low salaam, and entered the minister’s reception-room. What a gorgeous saloon it is! Mamma told me afterward that it is a saloon where she has been received many times at the entertainments of the ex-Khédive Ismail. When we were seated His Excellency ordered sherbets, and turning to mamma said that our train was not quite ready, and in the meantime he would like to converse with her. They exchanged many compliments, and finally His Excellency arose, and, opening a desk, took from it several papers. These papers proved to be a confidential letter from Monsieur de Lesseps to Arabi, and two telegrams from Monsieur de Lesseps concerning the Suez Canal. These documents will no doubt form a part of the official publications, and it is not for me to estimate their importance.

Finally His Excellency folded up the papers and ordered coffee. After taking coffee, and another exchange of compliments, we went out to take our departure, followed by a crowd of soldiers. The final leave-taking was oriental and elaborate. We soon found ourselves going with great speed toward Ismaïlia, accompanied by Moktar Bey, a guard of soldiers, our two orderlies, and our servants.

When we reached Tel-el-Kibir, Abdul Razak sprang into the carriage, and whispered: “Don’t forget the signal. We are waiting.”

When we arrived here to-day at three o’clock P. M. we found Monsieur de Lesseps’s carriage waiting to convey us to a hotel, but he did not present himself.

We shall have to wait here two days for a steamer for Port Saïd.

We find that a fine sea-going steamer sent expressly and most graciously by His Highness the Khédive is awaiting our arrival at Port Saïd. I hope such grandeur will not make me too proud. However, I don’t think anything is too grand for mamma.

August 6th.—We have had a tiresome day. We walked an hour through the deserted little town and went to look at the iron-clads on Lake Timsah. Moktar Bey and the orderlies are devoted to us; they long to escape with us; but, as one of the orderlies said to-night: “Madame’s honor is concerned, and we must return to Cairo, even if we must die without seeing the Pacha.” Moktar Bey has sworn on the Koran to return from Ismaïlia and bring back the soldiers with him.

August 7th.—This is weary waiting; we have had two telegrams from the United States Consul at Port Saïd to know when we are coming.

August 8th, night.—On board steamship Dakalieh. We left Ismaïlia this morning, and arrived at Port Saïd at two o’clock P. M. The United States Vice-Consul-General met us at the landing, and took us to this beautiful great ocean steamer Dakalieh, where, to our joy, we found papa waiting to surprise us! Johnny is at Ras-el-Tin palace, Alexandria. Papa left there the day before yesterday to come and search for us, having become uneasy by reason of the delay, and he left Johnny there to receive us, in case by chance we should cross each other on the way between Alexandria and Port Saïd. The telegraphic cable has not yet been laid down between the two ports, and Arabi has cut the wires of the land telegraph line.

Alexandria, August 9th.—We did not leave Port Saïd until ten o’clock last night, our anchor having been entangled with that of a Russian steamer. We had a delightful voyage, and I can now understand how glorious it must be to be a prince, and have at one’s disposal a fine large steamer. As we neared Alexandria the captain hoisted the Pacha’s pennant at the main to indicate that papa was on board, and the American flag at the fore to inform the American sloop-of-war that the family was on board.

The British iron-clads at the entrance of the harbor exchanged salutes of flags with our ship; the United States corvette Quinnebaug did the same as we passed her; and as we got further in there was Johnny with some staff-officers in one of the Khédive’s barges, on the watch for us. As soon as we dropped anchor, a little steam-launch from the Quinnebaug came alongside with the compliments of Captain Whitehead, to take us ashore, where we found a carriage sent by His Highness to the arsenal wharf to await us.

Oh! what joy to be safe, and all together again. We are temporarily established in an exquisite little palace belonging to Baron de Menasce, the United States Consul here, which was kindly placed at our disposal. His family is absent in Europe, and the palace was partly pillaged after the bombardment; but the place is beautiful still, and enough furniture was spared by the pillagers to make us very comfortable. It was very pleasant on entering this refuge to pass under the shield of the United States, which is beautifully painted over the door-way.

August 11th.—Admiral Seymour and several high English officials called to-day to congratulate mamma on her escape, and to thank her for what they termed her kindness to the young English midshipman in Cairo.

August 22d.—Immediately after our arrival here, papa submitted to His Highness the plan for giving signal to Abdul Razak, and His Highness having approved it, the letter was sent. Now we have had the satisfaction of seeing the result, for Abdul Razak and several staff-officers with him have safely arrived here, and have been received by the Khédive.

Fanny Stone.

[1] Major Abdul Razak Effendi was afterward promoted to the grade of Colonel in the staff, and was killed in battle, while serving on Baker Pacha’s staff, near Teb. [Back]

[2] This Ibrahim Bey Tewfik is the same who afterward made the heroic defense of Sinkat, and perished with all his troops, bravely fighting to the last in the name of the Khédive, rather than surrender. [Back]

[3] The above description of our visit to the prisoner is taken from a letter which mamma wrote to his mother shortly after we reached Alexandria. [Back]