SHIRAZ TO BUSHIRE. 71 



raving mad. As the sun was setting we made our 

 way across the heated plain to the banks of the 

 Eohilla river. The distance was about a mile, and 

 from the languor and exhaustion of the past day we 

 could move but slowly along, till we neared the 

 banks, and heard the pleasant nish of the river ; 

 then we hurried forward like a lover to the feet of 

 his mistress, and in a few minutes we had taken 

 refuge from the scorched earth beneath the veil of 

 the dark rushing waters. Xot till the stars glimmered 

 down their silvery streaks across the stream could we 

 tear ourselves away from the grateful luxury of its 

 pleasant waters. That night we passed in vain en- 

 deavours to sleep. Mosquitoes of gigantic size thirsted 

 for our blood. I cannot say I forgave them, but there 

 was an excuse for them. The night was a thirsty 

 one, and the heat almost as oppressive as it had been, 

 during the day. The shades of night had brought 

 no cool breeze, or indeed breeze of any kind, to our 

 fevered frames. I tossed about for some hours, 

 amusing myself with wringing out towels and wrap- 

 ping them round my head. This seemed to allay the 

 feverish rush of blood, that appeared to be pouring 

 like a mill-stream from every vein of my body into 

 my throbbing temples. 



2d June. We were in the saddle at 3 A.M., and 

 glad to find ourselves moving through the air and 

 away from the mosquito -haunted serai. The road, 

 bearing S.S.E., kept along the base of the mountains. 



