night came on, and were pitifully sick
as the sea rose. But we saw enough to
convince us that the pilgrim trade has
many drawbacks, and to make us return
to our own portion of the ship humble and
grateful. Some well-dressed Russian
pilgrims, who were our fellow-passengers in
the saloon, had decidedly boiled their peas.
They were bound for the Holy Places too,
but they lived royally and drank hard, and
were as little like religious enthusiasts as
loose speech, loud voices, and convivial
habits could make them.

We reached Port Said the morning after
we left Alexandria, and put in there for
some hours, taking in more pilgrims and
much merchandise. What a change since
we were last here just twelve days ago,
when the Suez Canal was formally opened
in the presence of crowned heads and
celebrities from every country in Europe!
The sheik and I strolled along the shores
of the Mediterranean, and re-visited the
gay kiosks where the Khediveh and his
royal guests sat, and where, for the first
time in the history of the world,
representatives of the Christian and
Mahomedan faith offered up their prayers together
to the common Father of all. There was
something theatrical and unreal about these
structures, now when we had them to ourselves,
and there was neither clash of military music,
thundering salutes from ships
of war, nor stately processions of brilliantly
dressed people on the yellow sands. We
recalled and rehearsed the whole scene, the
sheik mounting the tribune and occupying
the seat of the fair Eugénie, and I standing
where the empress's almoner—where is
her almoner now?—Monsignior Bauer, had
stood, and declaiming to my friend in
humble imitation of that dignitary. The
martial frame of the Crown Prince of
Prussia, his broad, manly front, his handsome
blue uniform and decorations, and the
courtesies of the empress and of the
Emperor of Austria, how these come before me
as I write! The smiling lady who looked
more beautiful and charming than we had
thought possible, and the stalwart young
soldier who was, by common consent, the
most striking of the many striking figures
there—how little did we foresee that one was
fated to be the instrument of the other's
deposition, and that, before twelve short,
months had passed, Fritz's gallant victories,
and poor Eugénie's painful flight, would be
the talk of Europe!

We strolled about the town of Port Said
till the afternoon, seeing everywhere signs
of the glorious and never to be repeated
pageant it had enjoyed, as well as of the
vast multitude of labourers thrown out of
employment by the completion of the
canal, and rejoined our steamer, and were
under weigh again by dinner-time. Looking
out of my cabin window at six A.M. the
next morning, I experienced a sensation I
shall not readily forget; for I caught my
first glimpse of the Holy Land. I hastily
announced this to my friends, and we
hurried on our clothes and were on deck
upon the instant. Rolling mountains of
purple and brown, partly obscured by mist
and rain-clouds, and with a low lying
range of red earth between them and
the sea—such was Palestine as I beheld it
first. We were some hours yet from Jaffa,
but we knew it lay on yonder shores, and
that we were approaching the scenes of the
most solemn and thrilling, as well as the
most familiar history in the world. It was
difficult to believe in the situation, difficult
to realise that we were about to carry
out what I suppose every reader has
dreamt of vaguely. There was something
indescribably exciting in the thought, and
I avoided the English engineer from this
moment. His matter-of-fact practical
observations would have jarred painfully
upon my present frame of mind, for my
anxiety to touch the sacred soil, and to
drink in its inspirations, increased
momentarily. We kept watch with field-
glasses and telescopes, and only left the
deck for the boat which conveyed us to the
shore. Our experience on landing, and
our arrangements with our dragoman, have
already been recorded in these pages.*

* See ALL THE YEAR ROUND, New Series, vol. iv.,
p. 156.

Jaffa is to me a dream of golden groves
of orange trees, strange Mahomedan burial-
places, widely spreading verdure, turbaned
figures, crumbling houses, veiled women,
steep and narrow streets, noisy chaffering,
and filth and dirt unspeakable. The Jerusalem
Hotel, at which we stayed, is in the
centre of what is known as the American
colony, and outside the walls of the
town. A very few years ago a new faith
was preached in the United States. The
Messiah was to appear forthwith, and on
the shores of ancient Joppa, the Jaffa of
to-day. A select number of true believers
sold off their goods, and came hither to
wait the great event; and a suburb of
European cottages, built for the most part
of wood, and in the centre of what we