necessary. These kind of "tableaux vivants" or "art studies" give
quite a thrill of novelty to Cairene-English Society,--a touch of
savagery,--a soupcon of peculiarity which is entirely lacking to
fashionable London. Then, it must be remembered that the "children
of the desert" have been led by gentle degrees to understand that
for harboring the strange locusts imported into their land by
Cook, and the still stranger specimens of unclassified insect
called Upper Ten, which imports itself, they will receive
"backsheesh."

"Backsheesh" is a certain source of comfort to all nations, and
translates itself with sweetest euphony into all languages, and
the desert-born tribes have justice on their side when they demand
as much of it as they can get, rightfully or wrongfully. They
deserve to gain some sort of advantage out of the odd-looking
swarms of Western invaders who amaze them by their dress and
affront them by their manners. "Backsheesh," therefore, has become
the perpetual cry of the Desert-Born,--it is the only means of
offence and defence left to them, and very naturally they cling to
it with fervor and resolution. And who shall blame them? The tall,
majestic, meditative Arab--superb as mere man, and standing naked-
footed on his sandy native soil, with his one rough garment flung
round his loins and his great black eyes fronting, eagle-like, the
sun--merits something considerable for condescending to act as
guide and servant to the Western moneyed civilian who clothes his
lower limbs in straight, funnel-like cloth casings, shaped to the
strict resemblance of an elephant's legs, and finishes the
graceful design by enclosing the rest of his body in a stiff shirt
wherein he can scarcely move, and a square-cut coat which divides
him neatly in twain by a line immediately above the knee, with the