And, in thousands, photographs of the ruins.

And there too are the toys, the souvenirs of the Soudan: old negro knives, panther-skins and gazelle horns.

Numbers of Indians even are come to this improvised fair, bringing their stuffs from Rajputana and Cashmere.

And, above all, there are dealers in mummies, offering for sale mysteriously shaped coffins, mummy-cloths, dead hands, gods, scarabaei--and the thousand and one things that this old soil has yielded for centuries like an inexhaustible mine.
Along the stalls, keeping in the shade of the houses and the scattered palms, pass representatives of the plutocracy of the world.

Dressed by the same costumiers, bedecked in the same plumes, and with faces reddened by the same sun, the millionaire daughters of Chicago merchants elbow their sisters of the old nobility.