Excerpt from The Contributor, Vol. 15: A Monthly Magazine; March, 1894
IT is a far cry from the city of the Caliphs to the city of David yet sea and land between is barren of inter est. I left Cairo in the throes of a carnival birth when the streets were thronged with masked and romping revelers of every shade and condition, wealthy aristocrats of tawny com plexion playing the mendicant, while the latter for a brief night at least, were squandering accumulated alms in robing themselves with gaudy splendor, ﬂashing the sheen of their rich' dresses in the glancing sunlight and for that ﬂeeting hour, building castles, in Spain with turrets and towers, drawbridge and moat.
An error in my itinerary made it necessary to pass a night in Port Said at one of the two hotels there, and should the writer ever contemplate extolling either, which Allah forbid, he scarcely remembers which would gain the evil preference, so equally matched they were in utter worthless ness. A restless night was finally, passed in the buda-pesth house, as that birth mark appeared to prom ise fewer evils than the other hostelry.
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