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Weigall stood, visioning skeletons, uncoffined and green, the home of the eyeless things which had devoured all that had covered and filled that rattling symbol of man's mortality; then fell to wondering if any one had attempted to leap the Strid of late. It was covered with slime; he had never seen it look so treacherous.
It was very dark in the depths where Weigall trod. He smiled as he recalled a remark of Gifford's: "An English wood is like a good many other things in life very promising at a distance, but a hollow mockery when you get within. You see daylight on both sides, and the sun freckles the very bracken.
Weigall had loved several women; but he would have flouted in these moments the thought that he had ever loved any woman as he loved Wyatt Gifford. There were so many charming women in the world, and in the thirty-two years of his life he had never known another man to whom he had cared to give his intimate friendship. He threw himself on his face.
A man in his evening clothes floated on it, his face turned towards a projecting rock over which his arm had fallen, upholding the body. The hand that had held the branch hung limply over the rock, its white reflection visible in the black water. Weigall plunged into the shallow pool, lifted Gifford in his arms and returned to the bank.
Do you care to hear what Weigall says about him? how completely he wiped out the 'idealism of the dreamer'?" Freddy found the passage he wanted. "'The neglected shrines of the old gods once more echoed with the chants of the priests through the whole land of Egypt . . . he fashioned a hundred images. . . . He established for them daily offerings every day.
He shuddered and turned away, impelled, despite his manhood, to flee the spot. As he did so, something tossing in the foam below the fall something as white, yet independent of it caught his eye and arrested his step. Then he saw that it was describing a contrary motion to the rushing water an upward backward motion. Weigall stood rigid, breathless; he fancied he heard the crackling of his hair.
His expression had been senile, his face imprinted with the record of debauchery. In death the face was placid, intelligent, without ignoble lineation the face of the man they had known at college. Weigall and Gifford had had no time to comment there, and the afternoon and evening were full; but, coming forth from the house of festivity together, they had reverted almost at once to the topic.
Currelly found a terrace-temple analogous to those of Dêr el-Bahari, approached not by means of a ramp but by stairways at the side. It was evidently the funerary temple of the tomb. Grandmother of Aahmes, the conqueror of the Hyksos and founder of the XVIIIth Dynasty. About 1700 B. C. British Museum. From the photograph by Messrs. Mansell & Co. A. E. P. Weigall, and excavated by Mr.
Weigall is an Australian mining engineer, and was travelling up north with his wife and assistant, Mr. Taylor, and some Korean servants, in December, 1905. He had full authorizations and passports, and was going about his business in a perfectly proper manner. His party was stopped at one point by some Japanese soldiers, and treated in a fashion which it is impossible fully to describe in print.
Our woods need the night to make them seem what they ought to be what they once were, before our ancestors' descendants demanded so much more money, in these so much more various days." Weigall strolled along, smoking, and thinking of his friend, his pranks many of which had done more credit to his imagination than this and recalling conversations that had lasted the night through.
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