alongside the marble, and the stone used was too soft and already in
places was crumbling. In Egypt, where it rarely rains, the climate is
kind to the jerry-builder, and it's only when Jupiter Pluvius wants a
laugh and sends a regular tropical downpour that the buildings that
were a thing of beauty and a joy forever come to earth and are no more.
We ourselves were on one occasion victims of this god's fun. We were
told that it never rained, and our huts were built just to shelter us
from the sun, but at 2 A. M. the grim old weather-god turned on the
shower, and no doubt it amused him a good deal to hear our curses as we
tried to shelter ourselves and tucker beneath greatcoats and
water-proof sheeting. There was no chance of "getting in out of the
rain," for there was not a water-proof shelter for miles. Egypt is not
the only place, though, where the residents know least about their own
climate!

Heliopolis, anyway, is a skeleton of a town, for most of these
buildings were merely occupied in the front, by Greek and Indian
merchants who had anticipated our coming. In these shops anything
could be bought, from a microbe (which was sometimes given away) to an
elephant (nearly always a white one)! However, there were silks galore
and filagree-work of beauty, but the biggest trade was done in colored
handkerchiefs, crudely worked on a sewing-machine with a design of the
pyramids and "Advance Australia." The cuteness of these merchants was
also evidenced in the signs on their stores. The first Australian to
stroll down those streets was amazed to see, in huge lettering, "The
Melbourne Store," next door to "The Sydney Shop." They even knew our
slang, for here was "The 'Fair Dinkum' Store," and across the way
"Ribuck Goods." Prices were pretty much what you liked to pay. At any
rate I never failed to get an article by paying only a quarter of the
first-named price.