however, were my pyrotechnics for this the fifth of November, yet it is well to remember Guy Fawkes.

To my great surprise, although it was on an island, a visitor came, and he would not be denied an interview. He was only a jackal, and the conversation was entirely on his side, as he screamed his shrill cry, and would neither leave me in peace nor come near enough to be shot. The savoury smell of hot supper, perhaps, found the poor beast desperately hungry. Next morning, on a return visit, I traced him by footsteps to his den, but he would not come out. Then, to recover the lost fishing-rod, I visited every cape, and bay, and beach, and reedy fen, and stony islet, where I had fished or walked upon during the night before. All these features appeared so different now in broad daylight, and at the very last place of all the rod was found.

At Ismailia, now again all safe, there met me the brave and faithful companion of my future journey, Michael Hany, well known to me as my dragoman in 1849, frequently trusted since by large parties sent to his charge; most welcome now as the man without whose aid I could scarcely have ventured to take the Rob Roy through the journey we are about to relate. My old friend was delighted with the new boat, and all her fittings had to be thoroughly explained to him. Perhaps this may be a good time to mention them briefly

here.*

The new canoe, named Rob Roy, like my other four, is, of course, fitted with every improvement suggested by former experience or kind hints from friends and from Members of the Royal Canoe Club, of whom about 700 have been elected. She was specially built for this voyage, and is probably the smallest vessel ever launched, in which one. can travel long and far, and sleep at the end in comfort. Moreover, she is strong and light, portable and safe, a good sailer, and graceful to behold.

The Rob Roy is 14 feet long, 26 inches wide, and one foot deep outside, built of oak below, and covered with cedar. A waterproof apron protects me from waves and rain. Her topmast is the second joint of Her sails are my fishing-rod, and a third joint is ready in the stern

dyed deep blue, an excellent plan, for it tempers the glare of the sun, and is more readily concealed from the Arab's eye. The blue bladed paddle is the same that was wielded in Sweden over many a broad lake, and though an inch of its edge had been split off by an upset of the canoe from a runaway cart in a Norway forest, yet I loved my old paddle best of them all.

To sleep in the canoe I always go ashore, and work her back and forwards on the beach until the keel is firmly bedded for a good night's rest. Next we form a little cabin less than 3 feet high, and more than 6 feet long, and then having inside the gauze musquito curtain, and over all a strong white waterproof sheet, 6 feet square, and drooping loose upon each side, we are made up snug, and can defy all kinds of weather. A "post-office bag," very light, but completely waterproof, has held our clothes during the day, and now it becomes a pillow. The bed is 3 feet long, and 14 inches wide, quite long enough for all one cares about, and no complaints were heard of its being too broad. It is only the shoulders and hips that really require a soft mattress, if the head is pillowed too; as for the rest of one's body, it doesn't matter at all. When travelling under hot sun, I place this bed behind me, with one end on deck, and the middle of it is tied round my breast, so as to bring the upper end just under the long back leaf of my sunhelmet, which is of pith and felt combined, a head-dress lately introduced by Tress, and entirely successful; for I wore it during about seven months, and neither rain, nor sun, nor duckings in salt waves, ever altered its lightness or good shape. The bed thus becomes an excellent protector against sunstroke, and it was especially useful when my course was north, and my back was thus turned to the sun. Often in forgetfulness I went ashore with the bed still dangling from my waist, behind, while wondering natives gazed at the "Giaour" with his air-bag tail. The bed was useful too when I sat upon wet sand, or grass, or gravel, and it was always a good life-buoy in case of an upset. This and all other fittings were made at Silver's, of Cornhill, where each of the seven Rob Roy cruises had its outfit. Other minutiae of the Rob Roy's build, and details specially interesting to paddlers, are given in the Appendix. Every timber in the boat had, of course, been carefully placed, so as not to interfere with my comfort in sleeping, or to catch the shoulders, elbows, hips, or knees while turning in bed. In fact, this canoe was built round me reclining, as my first one had been built round me sitting-in each case recognising the one great principle, far too often forgotten, that a comfortable boat, like a shoe, or a coat, must be made for the wearer, and not worn down to his shape.

Rameses-Sweet Canal-Bitter Lakes-Strange Leap-Red SeaPharaoh-Camel Wading-Wells of Moses-Mirage-Suez-How to lose Money-Shame !-Cairo Ragged Schools-On the Nile-Worship-Paddle to the Pyramids-Wild Boars.

[ANY, the dragoman, had brought a tent and a cook, and

HAN

westward by the Sweet Canal to spend the Sunday at Rameses. The place named thus by the French is now a bleak "wady" in the dreary desert, and a walk from it far away on the burning sand found for me only more loneliness. Yet hereabouts the Israelites must have lived in their Egyptian bondage. A railway passes near, and affronts our dreams of the past by its iron print of the present. The wires of the telegraph, curving thin from their naked posts in the desert, seem to jar upon a half-sacred silence with their wild Æolian humming in the faintest breeze.

I sat down in the desert under my white-topped umbrella. Only a little black spider seemed to be alive on the black gravel. The sandhills in the distance quivered in sunlight, and appeared to gently float for a while upon a sea of liquid nothing. Pictures came forward to the inner eye of fancy; crowds of Israelites, laden with jewels and kneading-troughs; countless cattle trudging along; a half-frightened, halfescaped multitude, beginning that wonderful walk of forty years.

By the "Sweet Canal" the Rob Roy sailed again southward, and, hoisting her topsail to the pleasant breeze, she

kept pace well with the luggage-boat, wafted along by her tall and graceful lateen. Brilliant meteors shot across the sky at night, but softly the stars hung out their spangles, and the moon slowly rose. Then it was silent and cool and delicious for sleep; so far removed from the barking dogs of towns, and with only the wild jackal's music, plaintive and clear, lulling to slumber. But even here a rumbling in the distance came nearer as the express train rattled up, jingling, and swaying its red light like a great beast's angry eye. No wonder the Arabs ran up the bank to look at the hissing, puffing monster, and murmured a prayer to the Prophet as they came back amazed. Two active, merry Nubian lads were with our luggage-boat. They seemed never to weary or to quarrel as they towed her along with ripples simpering under the bows, and the red English ensign lazily fluttering against a sky of purest blue. One of the lads had all his wealth on his back-a shirt most uncommonly brief.

Sometimes, for a change, I lounged on the soft carpets in the stern, while the Nubians towed both our craft in the midday heat. Dinner was cooked on shore by Hany, and my table was set in the boat, while Sleman, the waiter, handed the dishes as he stood impassive in the cool water between us.

In this way we visited the Serapeion, and then Chalouf, where ten thousand men were hard at work, and a thousand donkeys and steam-engines and railways, all carving out that deep slice from the desert where now on salt water full navies float from sea to sea.

Then came the vast hollow of the Bitter Lakes, where the sea afterwards had to rush in for months to quench the thirst of many hundred years since water was here before. As yet on this wide tract the salt glistened bright and dry. Men were loading huge white blocks of its sharp crystals into boats on the Sweet Canal, which meanders near the lakes, and is often a hundred feet wide, with verdure on its shores, and bushes tangling in my topsail yard. But the