"Shall we order the camels to come round to the front door?" exclaimed a lively and irreverent member of the family. "I can already picture you, dear E., riding over the trackless desert (composing poetry under an umbrella), living in Bedouin tents, and finally being carried off by a wild Arab chief, on a wild Arab steed, while we at home mourn and frantically petition the Home Secretary or somebody to institute a search for the missing English lady." We all laughed at this ridiculous, unpunctuated speech, and then fell to discussing the possibilities of eastern travel. The next post carried my answer to Elizabeth's letter, and in a few days we were in London making our final arrangements. We decided from motives of economy to go by long sea, and selected the North German Lloyd line of steamers because of their excellent second-class accommodation. We booked our passage to Port Said in the _Prinz Heinrich_, sailing from Southampton on February 28th. Our remaining days were fully occupied with business, in the intervals of which we packed our small portmanteaux (not omitting warm wraps), got our passports _viséd_ at the Turkish Consulate, and attended to the hundred and one trifles which seemed to crop up at the last moment. It was not till we were safely on board the steamer and waving our good-byes to the friends who had come to see us off, and who were now returning to shore, that we felt our eastern travels were to become a reality. Fair indeed looked the green slopes of the Isle of Wight on that glorious morning, and as we passed the Needles, many eyes filled with tears, for the ship was bound for distant China and Japan, and few of her passengers could hope to look upon Old England again for many long years. As for us, our hearts were light, and we were eager to go forward. Not even the unknown terrors of the Bay of Biscay appalled us. Fortunately it proved most kind. We passed Gibraltar at midnight, on March 3rd, the wonderful old rock looking awful and mysterious in the moonlight. Genoa was reached on the 6th, but, alas! heavy rain and cold winds set in, and the "superb" city did not look tempting enough to draw us from our comfortable ship for the forty-eight hours we were tied up in her harbour. There was a general murmur of satisfaction when the last cargo had been shipped and we were on the move again. As we entered the bewitching Bay of Naples the weather cleared, and the sun shone warm and bright. Here we had to wait until the evening for the mails, and everybody seized this opportunity of going on shore. How well I remember my sensations of delight as we wandered about the old streets, admiring the queer, tall, gaily-painted houses and the quaint bits of picturesque Neapolitan life which we came upon in our long climb to the top of the old ramparts which overlooked the busy city. From this height we gazed our fill on the pretty picture. The lemon trees with the golden fruit shining through the glistening leaves