a short delay we
dropped anchor, and just as the sun was setting in 'purple and gold'
behind the mountains of Arabia, we went ashore in the steam launch. We
landed at the Canal Company's Office, in front of which there is a
bust of Lieutenant Waghorn, the inaugurator of the overland route.

At the office, the 'Sunbeam' was entered on the Company's books, and
arrangements were made with the chief pilot for to-morrow, while the
children amused themselves by riding a pony up and down, and jumping
over the little brooks, and I strolled about admiring the enormous
growth of the vegetation since we were here last in 1869. We next
steamed five miles further on to the town of Suez, and landed opposite
the big hotel, which is more uncomfortable than ever. The rooms are
dirty, and the cooking execrable.

There is nothing to see at Suez, but still we went for a ramble to see
that nothing. We cleared our boxes and our letters, and then went on
ankle deep in sand to the one European house, the railway station, the
Arab quarter and the bazaars, where it is occasionally possible to
pick up rather interesting little curiosities brought by the pilgrims
from Mecca and Medina.

_Thursday, April 26th_.--Such a sunrise as this morning's you could
only see in Arabia or Egypt. There is a peculiarity about desert
colouring at sunrise and sunset that can never be seen anywhere else.
We had sundry visitors during the early morning, and before ten
o'clock we were in the Canal and steaming on at regulation speed. As
the sun rose the heat became intense, 96 deg. in the shade under double
awnings. So far from there being a cool breeze to temper it, a hot
wind blew from the desert, like the blast from a furnace. I stood on
the bridge as long as I could bear the heat, to look at the strange
desert view, which could be seen to great advantage in going through
at the top of high water. Sand, sand everywhere; here a train of
camels, there a few Arab tents, now a whole party shifting their place
of abode; a group of women washing, or a drove of buffaloes in a small
tributary stream. After going about eight miles we stopped at a _gare_
(as the stopping-places are called) to allow three vessels to pass.
One was a fine steamer belonging to the Ducal Line; the others were a
Dutch and a German boat (one, the Friesland, has been since wrecked
off Cape Finisterre, in December 1877). The cleanliness and general
smartness of the former presented a great contra