A RIDE TO BABYLON. 351 



Should the current swing your boat near to any one 

 of these islands, you may hear a sudden rush and an 

 angry grunt that will probably startle you. The 

 reeds' canes rattle again, and the agitated slender 

 points mark the course of a wild boar roused from 

 his quiet island lair. The last bend of the river 

 amved at, you gaze at once upon the very heart of 

 the old city, as it lies divided before you by the 

 waters of the noble stream ; and at once you are 

 aware that fallen away indeed is Baghdad from her 

 ancient splendour. A bridge of boats spans the 

 current. You can distinguish, swarming across, a 

 motley crowd of horsemen and footmen, and beasts 

 of burden laden high with fruit and vegetables of 

 all kinds. If you watch attentively you will see, 

 between you and the clear sunlit sky, the dark form 

 of some Arab Sheik or Bedouin of the desert emerge 

 for a few moments distinct from the crowd, and as 

 the eye is tracing the picturesque outline, crossed at 

 an angle by the long tufted lance, the whole dis- 

 appears behind a camel, moving slowly along under 

 bales of goods piled high aloft. The waters are at. 

 their full height, and bathe in places the walls of 

 the houses, some two or three feet above the usual 

 level. To the right and to the left are the light- 

 coloured sides of the houses, built, many of them, 

 with bricks brought from the ruined Babylon. These 

 walls, for the most part crumbling to pieces with age 

 and neglect, present but a fragile barrier to the turbid 



