SECOND DAY, 29 
this splendid evening, could not fail to make a lasting impres- 
sion on any lover of nature. 
From the marsh came the strange cry of the Lapwing, 
which, like that of the Snipe, sounds weird and boding at 
nightfall, and the sportsman is involuntarily reminded of the 
Walpurgisnacht and of old hunters’ tales. The ducks dropped 
quacking into the dry channels, and one after another the 
herons flew from the forests towards the recesses of the 
inland marshes, all taking the same line, while on the banks 
the Sand-Martins had been replaced by bats, and crows were 
flying leisurely to their roosting-places. 
This wonderful picture lasted for but a short time, for again 
the “auen” on the right disappeared and were succeeded 
by a narrow line of hills running immediately above the 
river. Beyond and behind these heights we saw, as well as 
the gathering night would let us, level country, and near the 
river-bank, close under them, a church, while the barking of 
dogs and the shouts of the home returning herdsmen showed 
that there was a village hard by. On the left side of the 
river we observed a continuous stretch of wood only occa- 
sionally broken by marshes. 
During the whole evening we had been standing on deck 
admiring this most enjoyable scenery, and had meanwhile 
also made a good many ornithological observations. The 
Captain now came to say that in a few minutes we should be 
at anchor; and as night had already shrouded everything in 
its dark uniformity, we decided on sitting down to dinner, 
and after finishing our coffee, cigars, and sporting stories, we 
worked a little more at our notes and diaries. The vessel had 
long been at anchor, and on deck everything was perfectly 
quiet; I did not look out again, and it was so dark that I 
should have seen but little if I had done so. I must therefore 
confess to neither exactly knowing where we spent the night 
nor what the place looked like, but from what the Captain said 
