“Boisterous winds and turbulent seas have racked my brain sorely, and I have seldom had such torture in this line. But we are close to the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb, and hope to reach Aden some twelve hours hence. I should have been sorry to miss Hodeidah, where I had a long day (spite of difficulty of reaching it by _sambuca_ or small boat of broad and heavy build), returning to ship in the evening. I left my friends, Maitland and a young American missionary, and made my way straight out through a gate of one of the stout city walls, into the country beyond, where are palm-groves and some fairly imposing stuccoed country-houses of merchants and men of rank. Under an arcade (as the sun was to be feared) I got a little congregation together, some learned, others unlearned, and addressed them for over an hour, eliciting the opposition of one or two of the _ulumā_, or educated men. For the first time in this part of my journey, my mouth seemed a little opened and heart enlarged to witness for Christ, and a few seemed really struck and interested. I tried to get entrance into a mosque or two, as of old time into Afghan mosques with Gordon and others, but failed to find the proper Imams within. I secured the lower steps of a flight of steps leading up to the private residence of a high Turkish officer, in rich uniform, a general of army here, not knowing whose steps I was occupying. However, the old gentleman came down (as a Roman centurion in old time might have done) and took his seat, with a few others, on his own doorstep, and listened with singular docility and thankfulness, and begged my blessing on his office, and his fulfillment of its arduous duties. After first leave-taking, he sent down to me a beautiful walking-stick of lemon-wood, so I had to mount the steps to express my gratitude and acknowledgment of his singular courtesy and friendship. Then came a still more enthusiastic and affectionate leave-taking still, and warm kissing of hands, to Maitland’s astonishment. I certainly never experienced such kindness and friendship from any Turkish official before in any quarter. I trust the message may have struck his heart. Anyhow, he gladly accepted a copy of the whole Bible—this is one of the most bigoted of Arab cities. “There was an excellent colporteur here this week, of the Bible Society, Stephanos, a Jewish convert, I believe, and excellent Arabic scholar. The Wali, or viceroy of the city, has forbidden his carrying Arabic Bibles into the interior, though the Hebrew ones for the Jews at Sennaa are passed, some six days, into the mountains. In Jidda itself, I had some small measure of encouragement, but not nearly so much as in Hodeidah, which has now outstripped Mocha as a thriving trade centre in those parts.” _Muscat, Gulf of Oman, February 13th, 1891._