The Silken East ba-
buls rise up in its place, changing in form with every moment of our advance, as Gibraltar does before the
THE CALM OF THE SALWIN
eyes of the ocean traveller ; and in the blinding sunlight all detail of delicate tracery is lost in the one supreme beauty of form.
After this we take a quiet way, with something of a sense of physical rest, with somewhat of desire to prepare for the next great spectacle, until we come, as the evening falls, to the last splendid passage between Pha-an and Shwegun. Dark blue hills curve up to right and left on the western shore, like the claws of a crab, holding between them a mountain of palest blue, that towers up to a high pyramidal peak. Every detail of this mountain picture is reproduced with fidelity in the motionless calm of the river. Timber-craft lie under the near banks, and piles of rescued logs, and