OLD CAIRO. 345 



tomed to do, affectionate words for the few that he loved 

 as his own soul. But of all this no record remains ; nor 

 is it known whose hand closed his eyes, and composed 

 his weary limbs, which after long travel had at length found 

 rest. All this I thought to inquire about, but I had little 

 hope of success when I knew more of Cairo. 



" If in a convent, Ledyard probably died in one of the 

 Latin, Greek, or Coptic convents, for there are more than 

 one of each in or near Cairo. 



" In the Latin I caused inquiries to be made, but with- 

 out success. There were no books, no records, no old 

 men, no one who could furnish any information on any 

 subject later than eighteen hundred years ago. Elsewhere 

 I conducted my own inquiries. 



"We mounted the donkeys one morning, and rode to 

 an Armenian church, which stands in a cemetery about a 

 mile from the city. 



'• Winding our way for two miles through the dark nar- 

 row passages which pass for streets, we emerged at the 

 gate that leads to old Cairo, and cantering along the road 

 in the midst of a crowd of donkeys, camels, women with 

 fruit, children carrying melons as large as their heads on 

 the top of them, men riding donkeys they could much 

 easier have carried, beggars in troops, and Bedouins in- 

 numerable, we at length reached the church and entered 

 it. The style of the interior was a remote imitation of 

 European churches ; but it was a small, meagre, and un- 

 interesting affair, and, having glanced at its paintings, I 

 addressed myself to my business. Vain attempt. The 

 attendant was an old man, but he never heard of an 

 American dying there, and there were no books nor rec- 

 ords — nothing whatever. I might as well have inquired 

 in Paris. So I went on down the road to old Cairo. 



