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 “The City of Rams.” 55

apples, lichees, and others are very effective. In these gardens arbours and pavilions erected over artificial ponds are suggestive of summer breezes, laden with the odours of sweet-smelling shrubs fanning the dreamy occupants, of broken sunlight dancing through the vines and lattice, and the murmur of the water fretting against the sides of the pond. Such romantic ideals, however, are seldom fulfilled in the midst of all the harsh commonplaceness that meets us even in these gardens, where nature struggles to be poetic in spite of her sordid tyrants, and in colours, aroma, and luxuriant leafage succeeds to a great degrec.

Floating down the river by moonlight, when all is quiet and serene, when the hum of the busy hive has ceased and its myriads sunk to rest, with only the monotonous tone of the watchman, or the shrill cries of some indus- trious vendor of sweetmeats to break the stillness, with lights from the shore and boats reflected in fairy-like radiance in the water, while the pale moon sheds its pearly light over the sleeping city, our experiences of the day seem all a dream, a stupendous freak of the imagination. But the loud calls of our sturdy rowers, ag they command the throng of boats to divide and open a passage for us to the landing, recall us to the world of reality, and the many strange scenes of the day com- mingling in all their varied forms and colours, are fixed indelibly upon the mind.