Hany, the dragoman, had brought a tent and a cook, and a luggage-boat carried these, while the canoe went westward by the Sweet Canal to spend the Sunday at Rameses. The place named thus by the French is now bleak “wady” in dreary desert, and a walk from it far away on the burning sand found for the author only more loneliness. Many boats were waiting for the Turkish officials to open the gates, but these lazy fellows meant to keep the boats there all night. The red ensign, however, soon stirred them up, and few kind words persuaded the guards to let all the boats into the basin. At least a hundred passengers were on board one of these floating boxes, and all of them had to debark until the lock was passed. Then what a rush there was to get aboard again, pell-mell and to secure most comfortable places and softest boards to sleep upon in the cold.