he last day on board the Kashgar was characterized by one of those
blazing sunsets that set everything aglow, making it appear as though
the world had taken fire at the horizon and was actually burning up.

Before arriving at Aden it was discovered that one of the foremast hands
of the ship was quite ill with small-pox, a very annoying thing to
happen under the circumstances. There were some thirty or forty cabin
passengers on board, and of course serious fears as to contagion were
entertained. Our small party, having already run the gauntlet of both
cholera and small-pox, took the matter very quietly, though we had
before us a five or six days' voyage to consummate before we could hope
to land. The sick man was placed in one of the large life-boats on the
port bow, which had a broad canvas nicely rigged over it, and in this
small, improvised hospital was personally attended by the ship's doctor
alone, who in turn isolated himself from the passengers. It was feared
that we might be quarantined upon arriving at Suez: but either by
management or accident, we arrived late at night and got moored at the
dock before any questions were asked. Selfishness and gravitation are
both immutable. We are quite satisfied to look out for the interests of
number one, and must confess that we know not to this day whether the
poor fellow, who lay so sick in the port boat, lived or died.

A modest effort to ascertain why this great arm of the Indian Ocean is
called the Red Sea was not crowned with success. The Black Sea is not
black, the Blue Danube is not blue, the Red Sea is not red. It extends
between Africa and Arabia nearly fifteen hundred miles, and in the
broadest part is not over two hundred miles across, gradually
contracting at each end. Portions of it are a thousand fathoms deep, but
the shores on either side are lined with a net-work of coral reefs and
sunken rocks extending well out from the coast. It was observed that the
Kashgar for the most part kept nearly in the middle of the sea. Small
Arabian vessels hug the shore, as their captains are familiar with the
soundings and can safely do so, and yet they never navigate by night nor
go out of port when the weather is in the least threatening. They make
no attempt to cross the sea except in settled weather, and are what we
should call fresh-water sailors, only venturing out when a naked candle
will burn on the forecastle. European sailing vessels rarely attempt to
navigate the