May 10th.—­We are now passing some islands, nearly opposite to Mocha:  to morrow at an early hour we shall probably reach Aden.  Shall we find any Chinese news there?  And if we do, what will be its character?  We have not yet heard a syllable to induce us to think that matters will be settled without a conflict, but then we have seen nothing official.  We met, at the station-house on the Nile, between Alexandria and Cairo, the passengers by the last Calcutta mail-steamer.  There were some from China among them, but I could gather from them nothing of any interest.  It was a curious scene, by the way, that meeting:  260 first-class passengers, including children, pale and languid-looking, thrown into a great barn-like refectory, in which were already assembled our voyage companions (we ourselves had a separate room), jovial-looking, and with roses in their cheeks, which they are doubtless hastening to offer at the shrine of the sun.  These two opposing currents, bearing such legible records of the climes from which they severally came, met for a moment on the banks of the Nile, time enough to interchange a few hasty words, and then rushed on in opposite directions.  As I am not like the Englishman in ‘Eothen,’ who passes his countryman in the Desert without accosting him, I had as much talk as I could with all the persons coming from China whom I could find, though, as I said, without obtaining any information of value.

[Sidenote:  Perim.]

May 11th.—­Seven A.M.—­Before I retired last night, I saw, through the starlight (we have little moon now) Perim.  On the right is an excellent safe channel, eleven miles wide; so that it will be impossible to command the entrance of the Red Sea from Perim.  There is a good anchorage on this side, so says our captain; but of course we could not see it.  I am sorry we passed it so late, as I should have liked Gros to have seen it, in order that he might calm the susceptibilities of his Government in respect to its formidable character.  I enclose a little bit of a plant which I gathered on my return from the Pyramids.  The botanist on board says it is a species of camomile.  It is a commonplace plant, with a little blue flower, but I took a fancy to it, because it had the pluck to venture farther into the Desert, and to approach nearer the Pyramids than any other which I saw.

[Sidenote:  Aden.]

On Shore at Aden.—­Noon.—­I am at the house of Captain Playfair, who represents the Resident during his absence.  A very pleasant breeze is blowing through the wall of reeds or bamboo, which encloses the verandah in which I am writing.  I am most agreeably disappointed by the temperature; and, strange to say, both Captain P. and his wife do not complain of Aden!  So it is with all who live here.  And yet, when one looks at the place, dry as a heap of ashes, glared upon by a tropical sun, without a single blade of grass to repose the eye, or a drop of