ABSTRACT
So we rode along, the painter and I, with a donkey behind us carrying the camera, a complicated and delicate machine which must be set up somewhere in such a way as to do us honour. After the Street which I have described, we came to 32a passage roofed with boards, where the European merchant sets forth his choicest products. It is a kind of bazaar, and with it the Frankish quarter comes to an end. We turned to the right, then to the left, the crowd surrounding us growing ever larger, and proceeded down a long regular street, wherein the curious may from time to time look upon mosques, fountains, a monastery of dervishes, and a whole bazaar of ironmongery and English porcelain. After a thousand turnings, the road became more silent, more dusty, more deserted; the mosques were falling into ruin, the houses crumbling. The noise and tumult ceased but for a band of howling dogs, which pursued our donkeys relentlessly, and more relentlessly still our horrible black European clothes. Then fortunately, we went through a gate and changed our quarter, and the dogs flopped and howled at the extreme edge of their own domain. The city is divided Into fifty-three quarters, each with a wall around it. Some of these quarters belong to the Copts, Greeks, Turks, Jews, and Franks. The dogs themselves, which swarm in peace throughout the town without belonging to anyone in particular, recognise these divisions and would not venture beyond them without danger. A new canine escort soon replaced that which had left us, and conducted us to the casins which stand upon the banks of a canal that passes through Cairo, called the Calish.
