crops, Great Britain will be morally responsible for the loss and individual suffering. Lord Cromer, Sir Edwin Palmer, and others, representing Great Britain in Egypt, together with Nubar Pasha and his ministry, can and will do the work in spite of all opposition, but the former will look for, and doubtless obtain, the encouragement and support of the home government and of every well-wisher of Egypt in this country. dam resembles a massive ridge of rock, two "bad Niles," and the loss of sevspringing from the rocky bed of the eral million pounds' worth of summer river the better. The French commissioner, on the other hand, proposed au open dam, or barrage-mobile, made up of isolated narrow piers with numerous sluices sixteen feet wide and up to eighty feet in height. In the opinion of the British commissioner a slight tremor of earthquake, such as the Parthenon has recently experienced, the explosion of a boatload of powder dropped down the river by a few dervishes, or of a high explosive shell fired against one of the sluices or placed in position by an Anarchist, would suffice to destroy one of these huge sluices, and then the rush of the impounded waters would throw down each pier and sluice in succession and the country below would be devastated. These details are of interest only as illustrating the kind of difficulties which arise when an attempt is made to devise a dam at reasonable cost elsewhere than at Philæ. But it is hardly necessary to say that every patriotic Englishman would rather see the stones of Philæ temple broken up for concrete than allow Egypt to be involved in financial ruin either by embarking in an enormously costly scheme, or by building a structure of doubtful stability, so long as his countrymen have the leading voice in the management of Egyptian affairs. As regards Philæ temples the matter stands thus: The under-secretary of state and the commissioners have stated in no equivocal terms their appreciation of the importance of the question. The British commissioner has personally examined the ruins, and is in the possession of plans showing every detail. He is of opinion that the solidity of their construction, the absence of windows, and the solid rock foundation, render it far easier to raise these temples bodily than any of the buildings he has seen so dealt with in America. The well-drilled garrison at Assouan would be delighted to work the elevating screws with military precision, and no doubt can be entertained as to the success of the operation. When raised, the ruins surely must be of greater interest to any intellectual tourist than before. Half of the wonder and admiration excited by the Such being the facts of the case, and monumental works of ancient Egypt the whole of the responsible engineers arises from the magnitude of the of the government and the majority masses handled and transported by the of the commissioners being in abso- old Egyptians rather than from their lute accord on all points, what is the artistic merit. It would be in accord, conclusion to which the average com- therefore, with the spirit of the surmon-sense individual must inevitably roundings if English engineers raised ultimately be driven? It has been tens of thousands of tous where the proved beyond dispute that the estab- Egyptians raised hundreds. From the lishment of a reservoir in the valley of archæological point of view the condithe Nile is a pressing necessity which tion of the temples when raised would will result in incalculable benefit to the be unchanged, as every stone would country at large, and that at Phile remain as originally laid by the buildalone are found the conditions neces- ers, and as shown on every drawing sary for the building of an absolutely and photograph. From the artistic safe and reasonably cheap dam. The dam, therefore, must be built at Philæ, and with the least possible delay, or in the event of the occurrence of one or point of view the appearance would be enhanced, because the temples would rise out of a wide, placid lake, whereas when now visited by tourists the Nile with the view to find, if possible, an alternative to the Philæ reservoir; and the labors of the other engineers of the Public Works Department in the same direction acquit them of all charge of Vandalism. The conclusion to which most Englishmen will come after a careful consideration of the facts relating to Nile reservoirs and Philæ probably will be that the whole question may be safely left in the hands of their able and tried is low, the stream insignificant, and the director of reservoirs, has personPhilæ island appears to stand in a hol-ally inspected every yard of the Nile low. It is true that careful levelling Valley, and tramped the adjoining deswould show that the floor of the tem- erts for hundreds of miles under cirples stood some three hundred and cumstances often of great hardship, eighty feet above the Mediterranean, instead of three hundred and forty feet, and that fact may be fatal to the project in some minds. Whether, on being told that the temples had been raised bodily the visitor would exclaim "How wonderful!" and examine the ruins with renewed interest, or whether he would say "What Vandalism!" and return indignantly to his "Cook's steamer," would depend upon his individual temperament. However, if the temples are neither to be raised, re- representatives in Egypt, whose sucmoved, nor occasionally flooded, the cesses in the past in the face of the only course will be to find some other most persistent opposition, and whose site for a reservoir, and to induce the intimate knowledge of the requireBritish Parliament to contribute the ments of Egypt, constitute them far extra cost of three or four millions better judges of the best policy to sterling, or to raise that amount by adopt than any individual or body of public subscription, for Egypt certainly individuals in this country could be. will not find the money. Such being The work will be an arduous one, but the present state of affairs, lovers of the representatives of Great Britain in Philae may do well, perhaps, to remem- Egypt are men of exceptional zeal and ber that under some circumstances ability, who can be relied upon to bring "silence is golden," and that the pres- any work they undertake to a satisfacent may be such an occasion. The tory conclusion, whatever may be the cost of raising Philae temples is in-personal sacrifices involved or opposiIcluded in the estimates submitted to tion encountered. government, and possibly not too much curiosity will be evinced as to how the sum intended for compensation for property and buildings is made up. If, however, there should be a great deal of talk about Phile, it is not improbable that the natives, who care not a piastre about the ruins, may suggest that those who do should find the 200,000l. required, and not the Egyptian taxpayers. From Macmillan's Magazine. THE CLIFF-CLIMBERS. I. All CREGBY is curiously placed high up on a plateau overlooking the sea. round the village there is rich farming land, but this ends suddenly to the eastward in a great pale wall of limeHard words have been used in con- stone overhanging the sea for several nection with Phile, but it is to be miles with never a break, and forming hoped that with a better knowledge of between the plane of the land above the facts this will cease. To call an and the plane of the water below a engineer a" Vandal" because from the curious vertical world, some hundreds force of circumstances he is compelled of feet in depth, which belongs to to interfere with an interesting ruin, is neither. Hither in the breeding season as silly and offensive as to style a man come myriads of sea-birds - guillea "snob" because from causes beyond | mots, razor-bills, puffins, and kitticontrol he is compelled to wear a wakes-in obedience to an instinct shabby suit of clothes. Mr. Willcocks, which is older than all human history; nothing for it but to leave climbing and confine himself to such field-work as he could do. But that the family might not altogether lose its much-needed share of the egg-money, it was agreed that his eldest son Simon, a lad of sixteen, should be admitted into the gang. and here on the bare ledges of the Dick's limbs so that he could no longer cliffs they lay their great eggs and seek work the rope; after which there was to rear their unshapely chicks. For these eggs there is always a ready sale, and it has been the custom of the villagers for many generations to gather, in due season, this harvest of the rocks during six weeks of every year, in June and the early part of July, carning thereby a greater profit than their ordinary field-labor would give them. This harvest is regulated by ancient custom, and by some curious unwritten law of Cregby certain families have the monopoly of it. One of the most ancient stems of this climbing aristocracy was the family of the Cowltheads. So far back as the parish registers reached, or the gravestones in the little churchyard were decipherable, there had always been Cowltheads in Cregby; and no one has ever heard of a time when the right to climb the very best part of the cliff has not belonged to them. Yet in the course of ages it happened to the Cowltheads, as to many another ancient family, that the stock grew feeble, and it had come to pass that although there was still nominally a Cowlthead gang, its leader bore another name. At the time referred to there was but one Cowlthead who climbed, and he, Simon, was a raw youth, clever enough with the ropes as every one owned, but for the rest entirely lacking experience and common sense. So young a man would not have been accepted by the other climbers had it not happened that he was the only one of the family available. His father, Dick Cowlthead, a dull, heavy man wanting in enterprise, had gone to the cliff for several years, but had made no headway, and willingly sank under the guidance of an energetic new-comer without any hereditary claims, a new-comer who was at first only a stop-gap, taken on when another of the old families "ran to women-folk," and could supply no climber. And while yet in his prime the rheumatism (no doubt, had he been a richer man, the doctors would have called it gout,) had stiffened This lad was by no means a favorite in the village. It was his unhappy fate to have been born with an ancestral taint in the form of an uncontrollable predilection towards waggery, while for the rest he was unfortunately like his father, exceedingly dull and stupid, a heavy-faced, tow-headed country lout of the most pronounced type. Now a joker with wit is often more or less of a nuisance, but a joker without that quality is always an absolute infliction, especially in a country place. And as the playfulness of a young bullock was grace itself compared with that of young Simon Cowlthead, it is not at all surprising that the inhabitants of Cregby came cordially to detest this ungainly youth, and to visit their displeasure at his mischievous pranks upon various parts of his youthful anatomy. It may be readily imagined that this youth was from the first a constant source of anxiety and annoyance to the shrewd and energetic John Bower, the man who had worked his way to the head of the gang. The methods of the climbers are so simple and secure that accidents are of rare occurrence. Such as do happen are chiefly small injuries from falling stones dislodged by the friction of the rope as the climber swings himself below. Of the three men who form a gang one descends to do the actual work of gathering the eggs, while the other two remain above at the more arduous, if less dangerous, task of lowering and hoisting their comrade. At the spot selected for a descent a stake is driven into the earth near the edge of the cliff, and to this stake a stout cord is fixed. This is the hand-line, which serves for signalling and to relieve the strain on the main cord. Then the man who is to descend ad Even when the season was over, and the ropes carefully coiled and housed till another year, Simon could not be kept from off the cliffs. He would slink away from his proper work on every opportunity, in spite of his mother's tongue and his father's hand, to enjoy the dangerous pleasure of scrambling along the face of the precipice wherever he could find hand-grip and foothold. justs about him a double loop of rope, on land, the grace and dexterity with or short breeches of canvas, at the end which like some wild ape he bounded of the much stouter climbing-rope, and from ledge to ledge in that strange sometimes may further secure himself middle-world would have seemed inby a strap passed loosely round the comprehensible. John Bower's explahips. All being ready, the climber nation was that "climin' was bred in taking up the hand-line walks down the bone." the short slope which caps the precipice, passes over the verge, and is lost to view, while his two comrades, seated above, with feet well planted in little pits cut out of the turf, brace themselves to their labor, making of their thighs and bodies a living brake. And thus they hoist or lower the climber, according to the nature of the signal which he gives. If he be skilful the man below will greatly lighten their labor, by supporting the greater part of his weight on the hand-line at the instant that their effort on the main rope is felt. To work thus in rhythmical unison with the men above, to watch and avoid those terrible missiles, the falling stones, to prevent the twisting of the ropes, and, by keeping the feet in touch with the cliff (for which purpose the legs must be held almost horizontally), to avoid bruising the body and smashing the eggs against the face of the rock, these are things which mark the expert in cliff-climbing. Now it is not given to every one, not even though he be born in the village of Cregby, to swing at ease, a living pendulum, at the end of two or three hundred feet of rope with a great precipice still below you, and the blue sea, so strange and dizzy to look upon from this point of view, beneath and around you. Hence when after the two first seasons young Simon, upon trial below, proved, to the surprise of his companions, as capable there as he had been lazy and incompetent at the top, John Bower wisely made the most of the lad's faculty. "He's good for nothing at aught else, so we'd better keep him below," he remarked to his mate. This arrangement was entirely to the lad's satisfaction. He revelled in the work, for the excitement of it stirred fresh life in his clumsy frame. To any one who had beheld his sluggishness But in the fifth year of his climbing, when the youth had already begun to think himself a man, a terrible occurrence prematurely ended his career in the cliffs. The Cowlthead gang had worked nearly the whole of that fine June day with excellent results. Towards evening John Bower said, "We'll just try Fowerscore, and then go home." It may here be observed that we have taken such liberties with the speech of John Bower and his mates as may render it intelligible to those who know not the tongue of Cregby. "Nay," said Simon, out of temper at a recent rough reproof of John's for his careless handling of some eggs, "I've done enough for to-day. Leave Fowerscore till to-morrow." But John Bower was masterful, as became the chief of a gang. "If thou won't climb Fowerscore, I'll climb it myself," said he. And he led the way to the place. Now this Fourscore was one of the most difficult spots in the cliff because of the great overhang which the upper part of the precipice had at this point. For this reason the attempts of the climbers to reach its ledges had, until a short time before, always failed. Here the birds, finding themselves undisturbed, clustered thickest, until every square inch of rock flat enough to support an egg had its occupant, and the possessors of places had to do con tinual battle with their envious and "Now he's landed! That's all right! less fortunate sisters for their right to remain. But three or four winters previously the frost had dislodged a great slice of rock from the brow, and in the following season John Bower, taking advantage of this fall, had descended, and by a long in-swing had gained footing on the ledges, where a rich harvest awaited him. Into the bags slung on either side of him he counted eighty eggs, and with this as a sufficient load, considering the nature of the ascent, he returned to the top, and twice again descended for fourscore more. After that the climbers regularly visited their freshly conquered territory, and whoever descended would have counted it shame to return without a full burden; wherefore as Fourscore the place was known. The rope hung slack now, and they knew that Simon had reached the broad ledges and made fast his lines, while he moved independently and comfortably along, gathering his spoil two hundred feet below. But a longer pause than usual followed. "He's restin' a bit," was John's interpretation. Then the cords showed motion again, and immediately a sharp shake of the hand-line gave the signal for hoisting, and the two men began to tug with all their might upon the main rope. It was not light work to raise the weight of a man, with the added weight of a cable, vertically from such depths, and the two men breathed hard as they pulled. They had recovered only a few feet when John was aware of something wrong below. "He lifts unaccountable dead an' heavy," he panted." "He can't be —," with a jerk he had tumbled back on the grass, the other man lay sprawling behind, and the rope made a great leap and then shook lightly and loosely at the cliff edge. When they reached the spot, Simon stood sulkily aside while John and his mate made their preparations. Soon all was ready, and the elder had begun to adjust the rope upon himself, when the young man with a bad grace grew jealous and yielded. John handed it over to him at once, and the lad took "My God," said John hoarsely. up the hand-line also and steadied him-"It's broken !" In a second he was self down the short upper slope. "Mind to kick all loose stones down as thou goes, lad, and see that the rope don't rub on them sharp edges below thee, and mind the lines don't swing out o' thy reach when thou lands," was John's admonishment as the young man disappeared over the verge. Then the men at the top braced themselves to the strain, John sitting first with heels well set. on his feet and the slack was spinning up through his hands as if it were under the drum of some swift machine. Speedily the end of the rope all frayed and torn came up the slope. "Surely he's stuck to the hand-line !" cried the man in despair, and he seized that cord. But there was no resistance upon it, and in a moment it also lay in a useless coil at his feet. "Run out to yon nab, Jacob, for heaven's sake, and see if you can't see the poor lad!" And he himself, all For a short time the rope was paid away in little jerks, showing that Stephen had still some hold of the cliff shaking, ran out upon a narrow spur with his feet. "Steady now!" cried in the opposite direction. He crept John, who had been carefully noting down the upper slope, and hung most his course. "He'll swing clear in an- perilously over the very verge with other minute," and as he spoke the only a handful of grass holding him rope suddenly became taut. "Let him back from destruction. "Oh, Jacob! have it as he swings," he exclaimed; can you see aught?" and then at each sway they let out the slack more and more rapidly that the climber might pass the deep bight before the cords began to twist. 66 Now "Lord help us, neither can I! Back, he's touchin' again!" said John.man, quick! I must go down!" and "Oh, John, nought at all!" came back the woeful answer from the other spur. |