THE LUCKY DAY. 63 Achmet, who well knew the indifference of the Arab nature, was constantly on his track. Two or three times a day he galloped to Boulak, to hasten the enlistment of the men, the baking of bread for the voyage, the furbishing of the cabin, and the overhauling of the sails, oars and rigging. My European friends in Cairo smiled at our display of activity, saying that such a thing had never been known, as a boat sailing at the appointed time, and that I was fatiguing myself to no purpose.

Monday (Nov. 17th) came, and the Egyptian cook, Salame, whom we had engaged for the Nile voyage, was despatched to the markets to lay in a supply of fowls, eggs, butter and vegetables. My letters home — the last I expected to send, for months to come — were committed to the Post Office, and after an early dinner, we saw our baggage and stores laden upon carts and started for Boulak, under Achmet's guidance. "We took leave of the few friends we had made in Cairo, and followed. The Cleopatra was still lying in the midst of a crowd of dahabiyehs, but the American flag, hoisted at the peak of her little mizzenmast, was our " cornet," proclaiming departure. We found Achmet unjacketed and unturbaned, stowing away the stores, with one eye on the rais, and another (as it seemed to me) on each of the tardy sailors. There was still charcoal to be bought, and hois gras for kindling fires, and clubs for the men, to prevent invasions from the shore, with many more of those wants which are never remembered until the last moment. The afternoon wore away; the shadows of the feathery date-trees on the island of Bhoda stretched long and cool across the Nile ; but before the sun had touched the tops of the Pyramids, we had squeezed