s deep in the water forward; it is flat-bottomed, like
all Nile boats, on account of the shallow water in the spring.

Here, a little way from the bow, is the kitchen--a small square place,
where the cook holds undisputed sway, and gratifies your palate with
novel and delicious dishes. This little spot is a very important part of
the boat, I assure you, for sailing on the Nile gives you a keen relish
for good dinners.

Somewhat back of here is the mast, rising thirty feet or more, and the
long yard, suspended by ropes, large at the lower part, but tapering
toward the extreme point, where floats the pennant which you have
secured for the occasion.

This long yard bears the large triangular lateen-sail, its huge
dimensions necessary to catch the wind when the river is low and the
banks high. The sides of the boat are protected by a low railing not
more than six inches in height, over which the sailors can easily step,
as they will have occasion to do many times during the voyage. The
main-deck is usually occupied by the crew, and from here are stairs
leading to the quarter-deck, over the cabin and saloon, where we will
take seats under the awning by-and-by, and watch the scenery on the
banks of the river.

Let us go down these few steps leading to the saloon. We find ourselves
in a room occupying the breadth of the boat; there are windows on each
side, with long divans, below them, a round table in the centre, chairs,
cupboards, and book-cases completing the furniture. Now let us open
these glass doors, walk along this narrow passage, and take a look at
the sleeping-cabins. They measure six feet by four, half of which is
filled by the bed, which gives you girls little room in which to arrange
your toilet; but you will not care to devote many hours to that while
here.

Such is our floating home, and though limited in space, you can be most
comfortable if you have a contented disposition, and a heart and mind to
appreciate the wonders around and above you.

And now let us ascend to the quarter-deck. It looks very cheerful, with
its centre table loaded with books and papers, its bright-colored divan
and easy-chairs; so we will be seated while I introduce you to the crew.

There is the reis, or captain--Hassaneen by name--a grave, quiet little
old man, standing there at the bow of the boat, with a long pole in
hand, sounding the water now and then, and reporting the depth. You will
always find him there, reserved, tho