on my return
home for winter fireside, and from further research to be able to leave
to my grandchildren some fruit that would be to them a lasting
remembrance of me.

We have booked on the steamer "Caledonia" seventy first-class
passengers. Among them, my new-made acquaintances, Sir Richard Campbell,
wife and two daughters. The former was none too happy in his retirement
from active service to a passive one in the bogs of Ireland or to a
shoot on the moors of Scotland. We will credit him with no desire to
capture and hold captive the native coolies, but with a longing while
still in sight of India's coral strand for the boar and tiger haunts. I
suggested when he bemoaned of having no longer sufficient work to do to
keep him happy, that he would write a book of experiences of his life in
English service. He replied: "The market is overstocked and with but
little variety or freshness in the productions of the pen." His wife
will long live in my memory as a fac simile of gentleness and
refinement. I doubt whether she is in the body at my time of writing, as
a slow but sure sapping of life's strength was going on from her long
stay in India's treacherous climate.

Sunday's service was read on board our steamer by an officer, at whose
right hand at the table, I was seated during our voyage. He was clever
and I enjoyed the conversations held with him. A smooth sea and a
fresh-laundried shirt waist were most refreshing on that warm, but
lovely sail. We landed at Aden, a British port and important coaling
station, at 11:00 a. m., December 17 (Wednesday), where we lay three
hours. From Aden is exported Mocha coffee. Where it grows I cannot
imagine, for the port is to all appearances, the most rocky, barren
shore we have yet seen--desolation of desolation. Fortunately no coaling
was necessary for our vessel; it is a most disagreeable task, and
passengers go ashore if possible to escape the dirt and noise. All the
carpets and furniture are covered with temporary coverings during the
transfer from the barges of these huge sacks filled with coal. From hand
to hand are they tossed by the native coolies, the majority of the
number employed being women. The labor here, as on the Nile, seems to be
lightened by a cry, or wail, which never ceases till the work is
accomplished. Natives in their canoes came in swarms around the steamer
as she lay at anchor, bringing their stock in trade, which consisted of
ostrich feather boas, black or