duel exercised a good moral influence in Cairo. There was less ostentatious swaggering, and a closer approach to real courage than had previously been current. That Gobetti had original cause for his action there can be no doubt, and that he falsely speculated upon the courage of his enemy is equally true; while, with Artim Bey, the position which he took at the outset was the only measure of his culpability. From the moment he uttered the affront, he became amenable to his enemy's code; but, from that moment, every stage of the tragedy had been forced upon him; slapped in the face, foils, four wounds and his opponent's life.

It is always the common cry to brand the victor in a duel as an assassin. In this case it was unjust. Artim Bey lay wounded in his house, and, in conscience, carried with him the ghost of the manly and brave young Gobetti, who had been among the

beaux of the town.

Not always happier the live dog than the dead lion.

The second and only other positive sensation during my stay in Cairo was the first performance of "Aïda," Verdi's last and most ambitious opera. The first night (December 24th) of its presentation

to the public, and from the fact that it was written in honor of the Viceroy by one of the most eminent of living composers, its production was anticipated with anxiety by all the gathered musical talent resident and traveling in Egypt. Two weeks prior to the evening, all the seats had been taken, and steamers from the various Mediterranean ports had brought artists and amateurs, anxious to see the operatic sensation of the day. Boxes commanded. as high as $100; orchestra seats, $25; and standing room was leased by the square foot, at sums varying from $5 to $10.

The excitement culminated in a brilliant success creditable to the composer, the artists and the Viceroy. Two years before, Verdi had begun work upon this masterpiece, with the co-operation of savans appointed by the Viceroy. It was his object to produce a worthy successor to "Trovatore," and particularly an opera that might illustrate the history of Egypt, even to the confines of Nubia. His selected task was national, his audience international. His patron was rich, influential and anxious, yet Verdi himself was not poor either in money or reputation. To fill an order for an opera, as your tailor fills one for your coat, and yet to do it in

the most effective manner, was Verdi's obligation. Aïda was accepted, generally, as an opera faithful to its historic import; as one which is, beyond question, among the most conscientious works of the century; as a spectacle with splendid and truthful scenery, princely costumes and massive music; as history written on the scale, tradition glowing on the canvass. gist, it is utilarian and instructive, and is the first example where poetic license has not been freely indulged by the composer. Verdi makes a spectacle and a song of wild tradition, but to Verdi does not belong all the credit of this success. It must be shared with Mariette Bey, a most eminent archæolo gist, who went to Paris, by special order of the Viceroy, to oversee the preparation of the costumes. To the minutest degree they reproduced the acknowledged dress of the ancients. The stage scenery too, was prepared with like fidelity. The entire cost of the opera was more than 750,000 francs.

Viewed in this light by the Egyptolo.

The drop curtain was a work of art, representing old Egypt on the right, with decayed temples, pyramids, obelisks and mausoleums, and on the left its now green fields, railroads, telegraphs and modern agriculture. This alone expresses the purpose of

Aïda to advertise the progressive works of the

Khedive.

It is needless to follow the tragic story of Aïda, the lovely Ethiopian princess; the anger, hate, rage and jealousy; the situations, so full of dramatic fervor; but they fell upon the audience, drowning the salvos of applause and repeated demonstrations toward the Khedive, who, with the ladies of the harem was present in the Vice-regal boxes.

CHAPTER III.

THE START FOR THE SOUDAN.

ALARMING rumors of the death of Sir Samuel Baker and his whole party, had been freely circulated in Cairo. Among other rumors I heard a story which purported to come from Suez, stating that Sir Samuel and his whole party had perished from starvation, not many miles from Gondokoro. The authenticity of this intelligence I doubted at once, and subsequently received an emphatic denial from the Minister of the Interior. No one could tell the exact position of the distinguished traveler, because the government had received no intelligence from him for over a month. The Minister informed me that Sir Samuel exhausted all his supplies in latitude four, just off the Nile shore, in the interior, and that he had applied to the Governor-General of Soudan for assistance, and it was thought the neces sary aid was immediately supplied, as this official was instructed to support the explorer in every possible way.

Such a great undertaking as the Baker expe: