At First Sight, The Show Lends Itself To Cheap
Moralising, Till One Recalls That One Only Sees Busy Folk When They Are
Idle, And Rich Folk When They Have Made Their Money.
A citizen of the
United States - his first trip abroad - pointed out a middle-aged
Anglo-Saxon who was relaxing after the manner of several school-boys.
'There's a sample!' said the Son of Hustle scornfully. 'Tell me, he
ever did anything in his life?' Unluckily he had pitched upon one who,
when he is in collar, reckons thirteen and a half hours a fairish day's
work.
Among this assembly were men and women burned to an even blue-black
tint - civilised people with bleached hair and sparkling eyes. They
explained themselves as 'diggers' - just diggers - and opened me a new
world. Granted that all Egypt is one big undertaker's emporium, what
could be more fascinating than to get Government leave to rummage in a
corner of it, to form a little company and spend the cold weather trying
to pay dividends in the shape of amethyst necklaces, lapis-lazuli
scarabs, pots of pure gold, and priceless bits of statuary? Or, if one
is rich, what better fun than to grub-stake an expedition on the
supposed site of a dead city and see what turns up? There was a big-game
hunter who had used most of the Continent, quite carried away by this
sport.
'I'm going to take shares in a city next year, and watch the digging
myself,' he said.
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