MARSEILLES TO SINGAPORE 5 



tain. There was no noise of any kind, the molten 

 lava quickly cooled, and in a moment only the dark 

 form of the volcano remained in view, all the more 

 dim and mysterious for the sudden contrast of 

 color. Ten minutes later the same thing was 

 repeated, and so it continued at intervals until 

 Stromboli was lost to sight on the horizon. 



I do not envy the lot of the unfortunate man who 

 has to live in Port Said. Since my first short glimpse 

 of it from the deck of the India, I have spent many 

 a weary hour there, and I can say from experience 

 that of all hot places on this climatically unsatisfac- 

 tory globe, there is none where one feels the heat 

 more intensely than in that squalid, dusty, fever- 

 ridden, desert-built town. And yet, if there is one 

 thing that can partially compensate the resident of 

 Port Said for its many deficiencies in matters of 

 cleanliness and climate, it is the ceaseless succession 

 of ships which pass his very door from morning till 

 night, and through the night till morning. To many, 

 a ship is nothing but a hull of wood and iron, sur- 

 mounted by a certain number of masts and funnels, 

 and perhaps a flag. To the resident of Port Said 

 every single vessel that plies through the Canal has 

 a distinct personality is, in fact, an acquaintance 

 or more often an old friend, whose home and des- 

 tination, business, mission, and personal character- 



