As we entered the Red Sea we passed through the narrer channel called The Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb, Gate of Tears, named so on account of the many axidents that have happened there. But we got through safely and sailed on towards Suez. So we went on past the coasts of Abyssinia, Nubia. Fur off we see Mount Sineii, sacred mount, where the Law wuz given to Moses. Oh, my soul, think on't! To see the very spot where Moses stood and talked to the Almighty face to face. It is only three hundred milds from Suez. We sailed directly over the place where the Israelites passed over dry shod whilst their enemies, the Egyptians, wuz overwhelmed by the waters. The persecuted triumphant and walkin' a-foot into safety, while Tyranny and Oppression wuz drownded. I wish them waters wuz swashin' up to-day and closin' in on the Oppressor, not to drownd 'em, mebby, but to give 'em a pretty good duckin'. But I spoze the walls of water like as not is risin' on each side on 'em onbeknown to them, and when the time comes, when the bugle sounds, they will rush in and overwhelm the armies of Greed and Tyranny and the oppressed. Them that are forced to make brick without straw, or without sand hardly, will be free, and go on rejoicin' into the land of Promise. But to resoom: It is three thousand milds from Bombay to Suez, but it wuz all safely passed and we found ourselves in Cairo in a most comfortable hotel, and felt after all our wanderings in fur off lands that we agin breathed the air of civilization almost equal to Jonesville. We found some letters here from home. I had a letter from Tirzah Ann and one from Thomas Jefferson. His letter wuz full of gratitude to heaven and his ma for his dear little boy's restored strength and health. He and Maggie wuz lookin' and waitin' with eager hearts and open arms to greet us, and the time wuz long to 'em I could see, though he didn't say so. Tirzah Ann's letter contained strange news of our neighbor, Miss Deacon Sypher. Her devotion to her husband has been told by me more formally, it is worthy the pen of poet and historian. She lived and breathed in the Deacon, marked all her clothes, M. D. S., Miss Deacon Sypher. Her hull atmosphere wuz Deacon, her goal wuz his happiness, her heaven his presence.