-"we commit his body
to the deep"--and he is gone for ever.

Almost simultaneously with departure of one, another of our shipmates,
Mr. Easton, the gunner, died.

Providentially for all of us, a squall of wind struck us at this point
of our voyage--a squall of such violence, whilst it lasted, that the air
was thoroughly purged of its baneful qualities, and restored again to
its elasticity.

But what a God-send it was! The iron hull of our ship, always
unpleasantly hot in these latitudes, was rapidly cooled by the deluge of
rain which came with the wind. Renewed life and vigour entered into our
emaciated frames, and revivified men marked for death; and was it not
delicious to rush about naked in the puddles of rain on the upper deck!

Well, all things mundane have an end, even the most unpleasant--though
it must be confessed their finality is generally lingering. Thus our
desolate voyage through that seething cauldron, known to geographers and
schoolboys as the Red Sea, at length approached its termination.

Our grim shipmate, death, did not go over the side till he had marked
yet another victim for his insatiate grasp; for, to-day, Mr. Scoble, one
of our engineers, died. He, too, was buried at sea, though we were only
a few hours from port. On the morn of this day, September 17th, we
passed the strait of Bab-el-mandeb--Arabic for "Gate of Tears"--an
extremely appropriate name, too, I should think.

Aden, which we reached the same evening, has a very bleak and barren
appearance, and is, seemingly, nothing better than a volcanic rock. Its
apparent sterility does not, as a matter of fact, exist; for it produces
an abundance of vegetables of all kinds, splendid corn with stalks above
the ordinary height, fruits, roses, and other delightful and
highly-scented flowers, in rank abundance. There is something thriving
and go-a-head about the place, in spite of unkindly nature. It has one
terrible drawback, for rain falls only at intervals of years, sometimes
taking a holiday for three or even more years. The people are busy and
bustling--troops of camels, donkeys, and ostriches continually stream in
and out the town, testifying to an extensive trade with the neighbouring
states. A peculiar race of people is found here, the Soumali--tall,
gaunt-looking fellows, with a mass of moppy hair dyed a brilliant red.
This head-gear, surmounting a small black face, is laughable in the
extreme. Plenty of ostrich feathers may be obtain