As to what will be the future policy of Turkey in the Yemen it is difficult to surmise. No doubt Abdul Hamid will be guided much by the report of his aide-de-camp Yakoub Bey, who was despatched to Sanaa for the purpose of bringing a full report to the Sultan. Rather than risk a second rebellion, there is little doubt that a conciliatory policy will be attempted; but the Yemen is too far removed from Constantinople to be governed from there, and as soon as affairs have quieted down, the officials will take advantage of their positions to commence once more the oppression of the people and the filling of their pockets. Could they be persuaded that extortion is not the road by which to arrive at a satisfactory system of government, they would find the country daily growing richer, and their relations with the Arabs more peaceable and less strained than at present. But the leopard cannot change his spots; and it is only probable that as long as Osmanli supremacy exists in the Yemen, officialdom will continue to enrich itself and impoverish the country. PART II. A JOURNEY THROUGH THE YEMEN CHAPTER I. ADEN. There is not a breath of wind to stir the placid surface of the sea—not a breath to cause a draught upon the ship and cool us for a second. It is one of those terrible still tropical days, motionless, silent, oppressive. Nothing to hear but the hissing of the sea as the vessel’s bows plough up the turquoise water, and the thud, thud of her never-ceasing screw. Even the Lascars in their white clothes and bare feet, children of the sun as they are, seem downcast. We are passing Perim. It lies on the port side, a dirty blot upon a scene of opalesque transparence, of shimmering water and palpitating sky. A youth travelling round the world stretches himself, jots a few lines in his diary, and commences to tell the old story of the taking of Perim. But he is soon cried down, and silence reigns again. On both sides we can see the land,—burning rock seen through a burning atmosphere. A number of flying-fish buzz over the surface of the water, and with a series of little splashes disappear once again. * * * * * A few hours later and Aden is in sight, with its broken and torn peaks and jagged outline. A little movement is noticeable amongst the passengers, but it is half-hearted at the best. Then we enter the grand bay, surrounded by desolate rock and still more desolate desert, and drop anchor a mile or so off Steamer Point, as the shipping quarter of Aden is called.