CHAPTER III. 

 THE RIVER 



I HAVE spoken of how the present extreme heat 

 gives to the landscape and atmosphere something 

 of the aspect of winter — the same lurid sky, the same 

 appearance of driving snow. To-day there was still 

 the wintry aspect, but it was of winter of a more 

 agreeable phase. The wind had fallen, much of the 

 dust had subsided, the sky was faintly blue, and the sun 

 shone cheerfully, no longer wan and pale. The air was 

 also tolerably clear, but more intensely hot and dry 

 than ever. The air was so hot, so absolutely dry, that 

 when I left the house to proceed to the office it seemed 

 almost as if I had entered a bath of heated sand. 

 Nevertheless there was something in the appearance 

 of both landscape and atmosphere that recalled recol- 

 lections of a hard frost and a bright winter day. The 

 air had the same glistening look, the same crisp, 

 bracing feel, and it also to some extent conveyed the 

 same exhilarating sensation — a sensation, however, 

 which did not very long continue. 



In the course of the afternoon and evening I had 

 experience of other effects of the combined heat and 

 dryness. Some few months previously, in the course of 



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