day, when the ship was rolling more than a
little. We had ventured to the saloon for tea and were surveying
uncertainly some dry toast, when Colonel Crawley came in. "Ah!" he
said, "Steward! Pork chops for these ladies." The mere thought proved
the thing too much, we fled to the fresh air--tealess.
I meant this to be a very long letter, but this pen, faint yet pursuing,
shows signs of giving out. I have to shake it every second word now.
The bugle has gone for lunch, and G. who has been sound asleep for
the last hour, is uncoiling herself preparatory to going down.
So good-bye.
_S.S. Scotia, Nov. 1_.
... All day we have glided through the Canal. Imagine a shining band of
silver water, a band of deepest blue sky, and in between a bar of fine
gold which is the desert--and you have some idea of what I am looking
at. Sometimes an Arab passes riding on a camel, and I can't get away
from the feeling that I am a child again looking at a highly coloured
Bible picture-book on Sabbath afternoons.
We landed at Port Said yesterday morning. People told us it was a dirty
place, an uninteresting place, a horribly dull place, not worth leaving
the ship to see, but it was our first glimpse of the East and we were
enchanted. The narrow streets, the white domes and minarets against
the blue sky, the flat roofs of the houses, the queer shops with the
Arabs shouting to draw attention to their wares, and, above all, the new
strange smell of the East, were, to us, wonderful and fascinating.
When we got ashore the sun was shining with a directness hitherto
unknown to us, making the backs of our unprotected heads feel
somewhat insecure, so we went first to a shop where we spied exposed
to sale a rich profusion of topis. In case you don't know, a topi is a
sun-hat, a white thing, large and saucer-like, lined with green, with cork
about it somewhere, rather suggestive of a lifebelt; horribly
unbecoming but quite necessary.
A very polite man bowed us inside, and we proceeded on our quixotic
search for a topi not entirely hideous. Half an hour later we came out of
the shop, the shopman more obsequious than ever, not only wearing
topis, but laden with boxes of Turkish Delight, ostrich-feather fans,
tinsel scarves, and a string of pink beads which he swore were coral,
but I greatly doubt it. We had an uneasy feeling as we bought the things
that perhaps we were foolish virgins, but before the afternoon was very
old we were sure of it. You wouldn't believe how heavy Turkish
Delight becomes when you carry half a dozen boxes for some hours
under a blazing sun, and I had a carved book-rest under one arm, and G.
had four parcels and a green umbrella. To complete our disgust, after
weltering under our purchases for some time we saw in a shop exactly
the same things much cheaper. G. pointed a wrathful finger, letting two
parcels fall to do it. "Look at that," she said. "I'm going straight back to
tell the man he's cheated us." With difficulty I persuaded her it wasn't
worth while, and tired and dusty we sank--no, we didn't sink, they were
iron chairs--we sat down hard on chairs outside a big hotel and
demanded tea immediately. Some of the ship people were also having
tea at little tables, and a party of evil-looking Frenchmen were
twanging guitars and singing sentimental songs for pennies. While we
were waiting a man--an Arab, I think--crouched beside us and begged
us to let him read our hands for half a crown, and we were weak
enough to permit it. You may be interested to know that I am to be
married "soon already" to a high official with gold in his teeth. It
sounds ideal. G. was rather awed by the varied career he sketched for
her. After tea, which was long in coming and when it came
disappointing, we had still some time, so we hailed a man driving a
depressed-looking horse attached to a carriage of sorts, and told him to
drive us all round. He looked a very wicked man, but it may have been
the effect of his only having one eye, for he certainly had a refined taste
in sights. When we suggested that we would like to see the Arab bazaar
he shook his head violently, and instead drove us along dull roads,
stopping now and again to wave a vague whip towards some building,
remarking in most melancholy tones as he did so, "The English
Church"--"The American Mission."
Back on the ship again, sitting on deck in the soft darkness,
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