The channel to-day swarms with islands, so that we sailed by at least eight before nine o’clock; when we had one on our left side three hours’ long; others were probably concealed from us. It is really fortunate that trees always indicate the presence of an island, else we might have many times splendidly run a-ground, for the shallows are only slightly covered with water; and the grass, shooting above the surface, proves the frequent fluctuation of different channels. The voyage is very monotonous; though the numerous shallow islands are often grouped very picturesquely, and appear sometimes to bar the river, and to dam it up into a lake. Added to that, we have always the sight of a majestic stream, bordered by green osiers; but the verdure itself offers no variety in the foliage and form of the trees, no blending of colours, since it presents to the sight only mimosas, which are here merely sunt-trees. There is no rock, house, hill, or mountain here whereon the eye, wearied of monotony, can rest, and which might serve as the halting point of imagination; moreover, there is not a sound to be heard in nature. The gigantic American streams can alone produce a similar impression. Although the river in some places intrudes deeper than usual into the right shore, yet the limits of the inundation are always sharply cut off, whereas on the left side the water is seen continually between the dark shaded trunks of the trees, where even the lowest branches do not prevent it from running on in parallel gohrs, or deserted beds of the stream, into other tracks of the river, glittering especially at noon, when it is usually calm. Many of these, which now appear to us to be islands, will, perhaps, when all the water returns, join on uninterruptedly to the mainland. Two shots, the signal of danger to one of the ships, fall behind us, and are repeated by us and the other vessels. Thibaut’s vessel draws water; but the Turks laugh at his anxiety, sail on, and say that he is drunk (sakràn).