entertainment. The almost noiseless paddles, the summer day, the white processional clouds, the drowsy blue of the nearer hills, make serene travelling for any one not freighted with responsibility.
The trees, undone by the floods, lie like Goliaths on the sandy banks. The walls of the islands in our course are striped with strange patterns where the blowing wind makes furrows in the unresisting sand. Fragments of them fall all through the day into the river, as though to reverse the very process which called them into existence. Ceaseless change, ceaseless unrest, is the character of these Eastern rivers,