VIEW OF MEDINA (FROM A DRAWING BY A NATIVE ARTIST).
So much for the two holiest places in the eyes of the Moslems. Frank and Fred concluded that they did not care to go to Mecca and Medina, and the former instanced the old fable of a fox who despised the grapes which were inaccessible, and denounced them as too sour to be eaten.
As they entered the Gulf of Suez the attention of the boys was directed to Mount Sinai, and they readily understood, from the barrenness and desolation of the scene, why it was called "Mount Sinai in the Wilderness." With a powerful telescope not a sign of vegetation was anywhere visible.
It was late in the forenoon of a pleasant day when the ship came to anchor, as we have described in our opening lines. The Quarantine doctor came on board, and was soon convinced that no reason existed why the passengers, who chose to do so, might not go on shore. Doctor Bronson and his young friends bargained with a boatman to carry them and their baggage to the steps of the Hotel de Suez for a rupee each. The town, with the hotel, was about two miles from the anchorage, and the breeze carried them swiftly over the intervening stretch of water. Half a dozen steamers lay at the anchorage, waiting for their turn to pass the Canal; and a dozen or more native craft, in addition to the foreign ships, made the harbor of Suez appear quite picturesque. The rocky hills behind the town, and the low slopes of the opposite shore, glistened in the bright sunlight; but the almost total absence of verdure in the landscape rendered the picture the reverse of beautiful. Not a tree nor a blade of grass can be seen on the African side of the Gulf, while on the opposite shore the verdure-seeking eye is only caught by the oasis at the Wells of Moses, where a few palm-trees bid defiance to the shifting sands of the desert.
SCENE NEAR SUEZ.
Suez appeared to our friends a straggling collection of flat-roofed houses and whitewashed walls, where the sea terminates and the desert begins. Before the construction of the Canal it was little better than an Arab village, with less than two thousand inhabitants; at present it is a town of ten or twelve thousand people, the majority of whom are supported, directly or indirectly, by the Canal or the railway. There has been a town of some sort at this point for more than three thousand years, but it has never been of much importance, commercially or otherwise. The situation in the midst of desert hills, and more especially the absence of fresh water, have been the drawbacks to its prosperity. There is little to be seen in its shops, and for that little the prices demanded are exorbitant. Few travellers remain more than a day at Suez, and the great majority are ready to leave an hour or two after their arrival.