I see African and Asiatic towns, I see Algiers, Tripoli, Derne, Mogadore, Timbuktu, Monrovia, I see the swarms of Peking, Canton, Benares, Delhi, Calcutta, Tokyo, I see the Kruman in his hut, and the Dahoman and Ashantee-man in their huts, I see the Turk smoking opium in Aleppo, I see the picturesque crowds at the fairs of Khiva and those of Herat, I see Teheran, I see Muscat and Medina and the intervening sands, I see the caravans toiling onward, I see Egypt and the Egyptians, I see the pyramids and obelisks, I look on chisell’d histories, records of conquering kings, dynasties, cut in slabs of sand-stone, or on granite-blocks, I see at Memphis mummy-pits containing mummies embalm’d, swathed in linen cloth, lying there many centuries, I look on the fall’n Theban, the large-ball’d eyes, the side-drooping neck, the hands folded across the breast.