and the dawn broke grey and wet. Hills, in the mist,
seemed scarcely real, and within the full sweep of the
eye, all was grey, boundless flood ; every boat and
figure on its surface stood out black against the grey,
as if it were cut in paper silhouette.
We had some trouble in getting away, for both
screw and anchor were encumbered with the débris of
the flood, and the instant we let go, the current began
to sweep the launch down. Fora few exciting moments,
full steam ahead made no progress. She was slowly but
certainly drifting down to the rocky headland on which
the hrau had broken. It was a struggle between steam
and tide, and the betting was in favour of the tide.
Happily the launch at last made way, slowly she
mastered the current, and steamed out of danger into
mid-stream. It was a singular spectacle that now met
my eyes ; for that same river, which can at will simulate
an immortal calm, or break into passionate wrath ;
which can look like a molten sea under the full blaze of
the noon, or become like some rapturous instrument
upon which, after the sun has set, every emotion of
colour throbs ; can in the grey dawn of such a morning
veil itself in an inscrutable mystery. Every feature of
it takes on a new and strange complexion. In the
vague light, distant islands and promontories become
transfigured. Trees loom up above the belt of waters
as though they had no roots. The flat sands disappear,
and headlapds shoot out into the air, ’twixt sky and
water. Sailing boats, fickle as any mob, sweep down
with their banner sails in the van of the northern