390 FROM NORTH POLE TO EQUATOR 



most likely bear it until next year's flood. The ill-fated boat with 

 the women on board was shivered to pieces at the uppermost of 

 this group of rapids. With the crews, happily saved, the skipper 

 prays, as he did before departure, "Glory and honour to the Lord 

 of the World." 



Before the village of Wady Haifa, overshadowed with palms, 

 the boats are moored; the men have gone ashore, and lie in 

 picturesque groups around the camp-fire. Big - bellied flagons, 

 filled with merieza, invite the thirsty; in other vessels the flesh of 

 new-killed sheep is boiling under the care of women and girls who 

 have quickly gathered round. Reeking of castor-oil, they are by 

 no means welcome visitors to Europeans. The notes of the zither 

 and the beating of the drum announce the beginning of the " fan- 

 tasia ", the feast and the revel. Unutterable comfort takes posses- 

 sion of the boatman's heart, joyous contentment is expressed in 

 every look and gesture. At length, however, the inevitable fatigue 

 after the heavy anxious work of the day asserts itself. The tara- 

 buka sinks from the wearied arm, the tambura falls from sleepy 

 fingers, and all the voices, which but a few moments ago were so 

 loud, become silent. 



Then the voices of the night are heard. The thunder of the rapids 

 resounds down the valley, there is whispering among the crowns 

 of the palm-trees with which the night-wind plays, and on the 

 flat shore the waves splash in rhythmic cadence. The thundering 

 waves and the rippling water, the rushing wind and the whispering 

 palms unite their music in an exquisite lullaby , which leads all 

 the sleepers to the happy land of golden dreams. 



A JOURNEY IN SIBERIA. 



We had left the populous streets of St. Petersburg and the 

 gilded domes of Moscow far behind us; and before us rose the 

 towers of Nijni-Novgorod on the further bank of the Oka. We 

 had reason to be grateful for the manner of our reception in the 



