THE CITY OF OUR LONGINGS. 223 



All our spirits began to rise as our enemies, 

 the mountains, dwindled around us, until at 

 last the great river at our feet had spread to 

 a quarter of a mile in width and the last low 

 hills had run down into the flat ; another 

 mile and a half would take us round the low 

 headland in front, and at last give to our 

 grateful eyes a vision of Djuaria, the city of our 

 longings, the land of oil and wine, writ in such 

 large and hope- inspiring letters on our maps. 



So we quickened our pace almost to a 

 trot, and Platon was singing a song for very 

 merriness of heart ; the child too was full of 

 laughter and high spirits, and we all raced for 

 the first view of Djuaria. But surely there 

 was some mistake ? 



From the low wooded hill on which we 

 stood we gained a view of a flat low-lying 

 country, covered with thickets of scrub and 

 small woods, through which ran a broad, 

 untidy-looking river in three or four great 



