Spent the night at a village called Kolosana, not having made Minyeh owing to delay at Benisoëf, where we coaled, and took leave of the Sterlings, with whom I breakfasted. The sunset before reaching Kolosana was magnificent, like a sunset at sea; almost as grand in its simplicity. Between the broad flaming sky and the broad flaming river there was only a long narrow strip of dark bronze-green bank, that seemed to burst into flame where the almost white hot sun sank scowling behind it. The after-glow was also very fine, though less grand than I should have expected. The sky was of a deep violet, and the distant rolling sand-tracks wore the most mysterious tints, faint, glimmering, uncanny, vague fawn colours, pale dun browns, and ghostly pinks. _Saturday, 17th._--Started at dawn, and arrived at Minyeh about eight o'clock. Stayed two hours and coaled. Obeying the custom of the country, I have presented the crew with a sheep--great satisfaction. Took a stroll in the Bazaars, which are rather picturesque. Minyeh is a largish place (chef lieu), and, like every second village on the Nile, disfigured by the tall chimneys of sugar factories. There is a striking line of hills opposite Minyeh, quaintly jagged in outline and curiously regular in the marking of its strata. Passed Beni Hassan, where I shall stop on my return. It is curious to see the incessant toiling of the natives at irrigation. The poor people literally _make_ their country every year, and it is marvellous to see how a narrow fillet of water will, as by enchantment, conjure up in a few weeks an oasis out of an arid desert. The land of Egypt is born afresh out of the Nile every returning year. I observe, with pleasure, in this part of the country those little white-domed tombs of Sheykhs which make such a pretty feature in the landscape of Algeria. At Minyeh there is one, close to the riverside, in which rests the "Sheykh of the Crocodiles" whose holy dust prevents those man-eating ornaments of the Upper Nile from going any further towards Cairo--below this tomb they never venture. Not having reached Manfalût by sunset, we have drawn up for the night by the bank of the river, nowhere in particular. This entire freedom in our movements (I should say _mine_, for the steamer stops exactly where, when, and as often as I choose) is very agreeable. Less pleasant is the storm of flies and insects of every kind, that rush in literally by myriads as soon as candles are lighted within reach of shore; my tablecloth is darkened with thousands of little flies no larger, wings and all, than a moderate flea; the nuisance is intolerable.