across, and at others double that width. The
current drifted us along very rapidly, and we guessed it to be running
at the rate of three or four miles an hour. The direction of the
stream continued nearly east. The day had been excessively warm, and
the sun set in beauty and grandeur, shooting forth rays tinged with
the most heavenly hues, which extended to the zenith. Nevertheless,
the appearance of the firmament, all glorious as it was, betokened a
coming storm; the wind whistled through the tall rushes, and darkness
soon covered the earth like a veil. This rendered us more anxious
than ever to land somewhere, we cared not where, and to endeavour to
procure shelter for the night, if not in a village, at least under
a tree. Accordingly, rallying the drooping spirits of our men, we
encouraged them to renew their exertions by setting them the example,
and our canoe darted silently and swiftly down the current. We were
enabled to steer her rightly by the vividness of the lightning, which
flashed across the water continually, and by this means also we could
distinguish any danger before us, and avoid the numerous small islands
with which the river is interspersed, and which otherwise might have
embarrassed us very seriously. But though we could perceive almost
close to us several lamps burning in comfortable-looking huts, and
could plainly distinguish the voices of their occupants, and though
we exerted all our strength to get at them, we were foiled in every
attempt, by reason of the sloughs and fens, and we were at last
obliged to abandon them in despair. Some of these lights, after
leading us a long way, eluded our search, and vanished from our sight
like an _ignis fatuus_, and others danced about we knew not how. But
what was more vexatious than all, after we had got into an inlet, and
toiled and tugged for a full half hour against the current, which in
this little channel was uncommonly rapid, to approach a village from
which we thought it flowed, both village and lights seemed to sink
into the earth, the sound of the people's voices ceased of a sudden,
and when we fancied we were actually close to the spot, we strained
our eyes in vain to see a single hut,--all was gloomy, dismal,
cheerless, and solitary. It seemed the work of enchantment; every
thing was as visionary as "sceptres grasped in sleep." We had paddled
along the banks a distance of not less than thirty miles, every inch
of which we had attentively examine