hours before noon
The temples of Stamboul can not vie with the fanes of Cairo . Their delicate domes and airy cupolas , their lofty minarets covered with tracery , and the flowing fancy of their arabesques recalled to me the glories of the Alhambra , the fantastic grace of the Alcazars and the shrines of Seville and Cordova . At night the illuminated coffee-houses , the streaming population , each person carrying a lantern , in an atmosphere warmer and softer than our conservatories , and all the innocent amusements of an out-door life -- the Nubian song , the Arabian tale , the Syrian magic -- afford a different , but not less delightful scene . It was many hours before noon , however , that I made my first visit to Shoubra , beneath a sky as cloudless as it remained during the whole six months I was in Egypt , during which time I have no recollection that we were favoured by a single drop of rain ; and yet the ever-living breeze on the great river , and the excellent irrigation of the earth , produce a freshness in the sky and soil , which are missed in other Levantine regions , where there is more variety of the seasons . Shoubra is about four or five miles from the metropolis . It rises on the banks of the Nile , and the road to it from Cairo is a broad but shady avenue , formed of sycamores , of noble growth and colour ; on one side delightful glimpses of the river , with its palmy banks and sparkling villages , and on the other , after a certain tract of vivid vegetation , the golden sands of the desert , and the shifting hillocks which it forms ; or , perhaps , the grey peaks of some chain of pyramids . The palace of Shoubra is a pile of long low buildings looking to the river -- moderate in its character , and modest in its appointments ; but clean , orderly , and in a state of complete repair ; and , if we may use such an epithet with reference to oriental life , comfortable .