The river rushes proudly along towards its final
home in the ocean, but narrows before it reaches its
actual mouth, the water becoming yellow, as does
that of the Nile at the time of its rising. Even without
glasses I could quite clearly make out several poor-
looking villages, the houses with their dull red roofs
occupied no doubt by fishermen and their families.
Oh, how different were the surroundings of these
water-highways of China to those of the Seine, the
Rhone, and of the charming Gironde ! How much
I preferred even the Nile, which I had but recently
left, to this so-called Pearl of the East, for in spite
of the ugly black mud-huts of the fellaheen, there
is something beautiful about the river-side scenery.
