ENTRANCE INTO THE NILE. 27

we sweated and broiled for a full hour, in the midst of a hor-

rible tumult of Arabs, before the clumsy officers closed the last

gate on us and let us float forth on the Nile. It is the west-

ern, or Canopic branch of the river which flows past Atfeh. It

is not broader than the Hudson at Albany, but was more mud-

dy and slimy from its recent overflow than the Mississippi at New Orleans. Its water is no less sweet and wholesome than

that of the latter river. After leaving the monotonous banks

of the Canal, the aspect of its shores, fringed with groves of

palm, was unspeakably cheerful and inspiring. On the opposite

side, the slender white minarets of Fooah, once a rich manu-

facturing town, sparkled in the noonday sun. A fresh north

wind from the Mediterranean slowly pressed our boat against

the strong current, while the heavily-laden merchant vessels followed in our wake, their two immense lateen sails expanded

like the wings of the Arabian roc. "We drank to the glory of

old Father Nile in a cup of his own brown current, and then

called Ibrahim to replenish the empty shebooks. Those who

object to tobacco under the form of cigars, or are nauseated by

the fumes of a German meerschaum, should be told that the

Turkish pipe, filled with Latakieh, is quite another thing. The

aroma, which you inhale through a long jasmine tube, topped

with a soft amber mouth-piece, is as fragrant as roses and re-

freshing as ripe dates. I have no doubt that the atmosphere

of celestial musk and amber which surrounded Mahomet, ac-

cording to the Persian Chronicles, was none other than genuine

Latakieh, at twenty piastres the oka. One thing is certain,

that without the capacity to smoke a shebook, no one can taste the true flavor of the Orient.

An hour or two after sunset the wind fell, and for the rest