s and rags, then desert
sand--a cross between a cemetery and a kitchen garden. The ruins are
_awfully_ ugly! "Think of their age!" people say, and you look at the
exquisite spirals of shells in the lime stones with which these heaps
are made! But the saddest thing in Egypt is the fine art debased in the
temples, in these ponderous monuments of their officialism; for here and
there in them you see exquisite bits of low relief carving, that a Greek
would have been proud of, hidden away in interminable hieroglyphic
histories spread indiscriminately over grotesque pillars and vast walls,
as regardlessly of decorative effect as advertisements in a newspaper's
columns. The open desert is the best of Egypt, and this thread of blue
canal strung with lakes through its sand is very pretty and interesting
all the way. We come to a swing bridge. It is open and our modern hotel
and modern people slowly steam right through the middle of a Biblical
caravan of Arabs on camels; some have crossed into the Egyptian side,
the remainder are waiting on the Arabian side, their camels are feeding
on the grey-green bushes. The passengers just give them a glance and go
on with their books. Have we not seen it all long ago in nursery books
on Sundays. But, in the nursery in our Sunday books we did not see or
feel the glitter and heat of the day, some of which, children to-day can
get in Mr Kelly's book.

I dared not sketch the desert scenes; it was in too high a key for me,
but I made so bold as to do this sketch of a scene on deck at night: an
effect I have not heard described, though it must be familiar to those
who go this road. I am sorry it is not reproduced here in colour.

[Illustration]

The searchlight on the bow plays on the sandbanks and desert beyond, and
makes the land like a snow-field, and the slow movement of the white
light intensifies the darkness and silence of the desert. In contrast to
the cold blue light and snow-white sand, is the group of figures on
deck in bright dresses, dancing. It made quite an _evident_ subject. The
figure leaning on the rail is not ill. It is only a little Japanese maid
thinking of home perhaps.

Suez was a few lights in the darkness over the glow of our pipes, then
bed, and in the morning we were sailing down the top, west branch, of
the Red Sea, otherwise the Gulf of Suez, with a fresh north wind behind
us.

It is extremely charming and refreshing, as I've already remarked, to
look out of a p