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A GLORIOUS FOREST. 43
the wild boar came down to the river to drink, and so dark
are those leafy tunnels that never a ray of sunshine pene-
trates into them. The sun was baking hot, and we kept
an eager look-out for the deep river-bends through which
we floated as it were through a park-avenue, a leafy vault
above and cool, delicious shade below.
Thus, hour after hour we drifted down the broad bosom
of the stream, clasped in the arms of the sleeping woods.
A Shepherd’s Hut near ihe Masar-tagh.
It was like a journey through fairyland. I often fancied I
was being drawn along by invisible elves and other minis-
tering spirits in a triumphal car, along a pathway of
gleaming crystal, which wound through enchanted woods,
where eternal silence reigned undisputed queen. My
thoughts fell involuntary captive to the magic, the witchery
of the scene. I was in a mood in which I should not have
been surprised at anything happening. As I sat there,
drifting and dreaming, I believe I verily expected any
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