Added to the stifling heat, we began to feel the craving of hunger, for we had taken our breakfast at Suez at an early hour. It was now time for lunch, and I looked about for some quiet, shady spot, where we could find shelter from the noontide heat. How welcome would be one of our Stockbridge elms, and how gladly would we lie down under its grateful shade! But in all the horizon there was not a tree to be seen — not a solitary palm, nor even a juniper bush, under which we might crouch, like Elijah. Weary with the hopeless search, at last we halted right in the midst of the desert, "squatting" on the sands, with no other shade but that of an umbrella. But we made the best of it. The dragoman spread out his Persian rugs, and proudly displayed the resources of civilization, as he brought out tin plates and knives and forks, and gave us a roasted chicken and pressed beef, with bread and oranges and figs. We rose up grateful as for a feast, mounted our camels, and resumed our march. From that moment we took a new view of life, looking on the bright side of the desert. We found that while the heat was intense, the air was of such exquisite purity that we drew in deep inhalations. We breathed though we burned, and each breath seemed to renew our strength. In such an atmosphere one can see to a great distance. We had in full view the chain of mountains on the other side of the Red Sea. We even grew reconciled to the everlasting sand, which, though burning to the touch under the midday sun, was yet so clean that it seemed as if it had never been stained by blood or tears. So pure and undefiled was it that we wondered not that in the absence of water it is sometimes used for the sacrament of baptism, and that the Arabs use it for their washings before prayer. Our dragoman put it to a more homely service: he washed his dishes in the sand, whereby they were not only cleansed, but scoured.
