agreeable and treacherous piece of water on the globe, emerges through the narrow pass, called by the Arabs the "Gateway of Tears," into the Indian Ocean. He stops for coal at Aden, the half-way station between the Mediterranean and India, thence sails up the Arabian Sea and the Persian Gulf, past the deserted sites of many historic cities, once rich and populous, through which the wealth of Ormus and of Ind flowed from the East toward Europe. Sixty miles above the mouth of the Euphrates is the city of Bassorah, the port from which that famous voyager Sinbad sailed, to be cast away on enchanted islands, and find the roc's eggs and diamond valleys of "fairy-land." Here we leave our ocean steamer, and on a smaller boat adapted to the navigation of these swift and shallow streams, we push on toward Bagdad, 500 miles up the river. At the junction of the Tigris and the Euphrates is the traditional "Garden of Eden," where we find nothing to remind us of the paradise of our first parents except a very old fig-tree. Diverging here to the right, we trace the sinuous course of the Tigris through a level country almost destitute of cultivation or inhabitants. This is a paradise for sportsmen, and there is a constant fusilade of guns and rifles from our deck. Besides waterfowl, such as pelicans, herons, cranes and ducks, which are in sight all day, we have frequent shots at wild boars, jackals and antelopes. During the last trip of this steamer four lions were shot from the deck. They were on a small island, and cut off from retreat to the main-land by a sudden rise of the water. The largest

weighed about 350 pounds, and had the dark, shaggy mane of the African species, which is rarely found in Mesopotamia. The Arabs call this variety kaffirs, or "infidels." They say that by repeating a prayer from the Koran a Mussulman lion can be induced to spare one's life, but an "unbelieving" lion is inexorable.

To receive a favorable impression of Bagdad, one should approach it, as it was

my good fortune to do, in an early morning in spring. For miles below we had been passing through groves of dates, palms and orange-trees, and the fragrance of orange blossoms was almost oppressive. The Tigris is here nearly a thousand feet in width, and flows in a broad, full stream, washing the buildings and gardens on either side. The city seems half buried in palmtrees, which rise above the buildings in every direction; but far above the palms tower the domes and minarets of the mosques, ornamented with colored glazed tiles arranged in arabesque designs. The houses facing the river are not imposing in height or style of architecture. They are evidently dwellings and not places of business. The numerous lattices, projecting windows and verandas looking out upon the stream, give them a picturesque and agreeable appearance. and agreeable appearance. Many houses. have small gardens facing the river, where we can see the bright spring flowers, and under awnings of parti-colored canvas are seats and divans, suggestive of the comfort of an out-door lounge. We steam slowly along, past the English

SHOOTING LIONS ON THE TIGRIS.

Residency with its beautiful gardens, in which we see the uniform of Sepoy soldiers from India. In the stream opposite is moored a British gun-boat, the "Comet." We drop anchor a short distance further up the river near the custom-house, where a floating bridge resting on boats spans the stream. We are at once surrounded by the most curious of boats called goophas, which have been used on these waters from

ments. It is perfectly round; the top edge is lightly drawn in, and from eight to ten feet in diameter. To an inexperienced eye it seems the most unmanageable of boats, but two men with short paddles propel it quite rapidly across the swift stream, and being light, its carrying capacity is very great.

Above the floating bridge on the eastern bank extend for a long distance the gardens and low buildings attached to the pasha's palace. On the opposite shore are several large buildings with tall smokestacks, the only un-oriental objects within sight. These are the arsenal and machine shops. Still further up is the hospital, a large and handsome building of lightcolored brick. On the same side, at a bend of the river, a curious object attracts our attention. It is a mosque cut in two by the undermining of the rapid current. One-half of its lofty dome still remains, leaving the innermost recesses of its places of prayer exposed to view. This is the only interior of a temple sacred to Moslem worship which an unbeliever can see in Bagdad. And yet the people here are not especially fanatics. The largest liberty in the exercise of their religion has been granted to Jew and Christian at Bagdad.

The highest attainable point whence the city can be viewed is the top of a halfruined minaret, which overlooks the "cotton-thread market" and entrance to the bazaars. The mosque to which this minar was once attached has all crumbled away and disappeared. The sacredness of the The sacredness of the place having departed, we are permitted to

rounding country for miles in every direction. We can trace the line of crumbling walls, with towers at short intervals, inclosing an area of about seven hundred acres, not over one-half of which is covered with buildings. Groves of palm and other trees fill large spaces in the south-eastern part of the city, once densely populated, among which we can see frequent ruins, as if Nature were trying to hide from sight these sad relics of former grandeur. To the north and south, as far as the eye can reach, the river glistening in the morning sun, winds through dense groves of palm and orange trees, but in

burial-place of the two Imaums, direct descendants of Mohammed, and it is visited every year by many thousand pilgrims from Persia and Arabia. A short distance from this shrine we see a pine-shaped cone of snowy whiteness which covers the tomb of the lovely Zobeide. Ten miles away, standing alone in the desert, is a tower one hundred and fifty feet in height, called Akker-goof. A spiral way ascends on the outside, and its appearance is familiar from its being the common ideal picture of the tower of Babel. It is of great antiquity, and was regarded by early travelers as the work of the immediate descendants of Noah.

But while we have been scanning these interesting objects in the far distance, a scene is passing at our feet, too characteristic to escape notice. The houses here are usually built two stories in height, with ranges of apartments opening into a square, inner court. During the summer, subterranean rooms, called serdaubs, are occupied during the day for the shelter they afford from the intense heat, but as soon as the sun goes down the flat roofs are used for the evening meal and for sleep at night. At Bagdad, there is not a particle of dew, and for half the year the people all sleep in the open air without protection. From this lofty station hundreds of bed-rooms are exposed to view, and domestic scenes, illustrative of the habits and customs of the people, are open before us. Here in the East no such privacy of sleeping apartments is sought or desired, as is universal in western lands. These people are early risers, and as it is now a few moments after sunrise, in many cases the servants have rolled up the beds and carried them to the rooms below, to which the occupants have retired for the bath, and to commence the labors of the day. But a few late sleepers still linger on the terraces, and little suspect that the stranger is taking note

of their movements.

On our way back to the khan of Messrs. Lynch & Co., the only English merchants in Bagdad, we pass a tall minaret, attached to a ruined mosque, called the "Minar of the Storks." On its summit these birds have built an enormous nest, and hold undisputed possession of the place. They are regarded as sacred by all Moslems, and never molested. During the winter months they migrate to some warmer clime, but it is firmly believed that at this time every year they make the pilgrimage to Mecca. These birds are so

Fre

Soon after my arrival at Bagdad, on the evening of the first day in May, as we were dining on the terrace, we were startled by a most terrific din. We then noticed that there was a nearly total eclipse of the moon, and upon consulting an English almanac we found that it would be "invisible at Greenwich, but a total eclipse in Australia and some parts of Asia." The tumult increased, and soon the whole population seemed to have assembled on the housetops, armed with pots, pans and kitchen utensils, which they beat with a tremendous clatter, at the same time screaming and howling at the top of their voices. quent reports of guns and pistols added to the turmoil, which was kept up for nearly an hour, until they had succeeded in frightening away the Jin, or evil spirit, who had caught hold of the moon. It was a most amusing scene, although it interfered seriously with the success of our dinner. Our own servants caught the excitement, and deserted the table without ceremony. Our host told us the next day that they wellnigh knocked the bottoms out from all his kitchen utensils. It was, however, a complete success, and when our servants returned to their duty, the moon was shining brightly as ever, and upon their faces was an air of complacent satisfaction.

The ignorant Mohammedan population of Bagdad are exceedingly superstitious, and the fakirs, dervishes, and other mendicant

living out of the charity of the faithful. The members of these societies do not openly or clamorously beg, but they elicit money from the ignorant by the perform

SCARING AWAY THE ECLIPSE.

ance of pretended miracles, giving charms against illness, wounds and evils of all kinds. Some of these professors of the "black art" pretend to know what is passing in their absence, to expel evil spirits, to cure diseases by laying on of hands, to calm tempests at sea, and to be able to say their noonday prayers at Mecca without stirring from their houses at Bagdad. To the astonished spectators they seem to pierce their bodies with spears, to strike sharp-pointed lances into their eyes, or to leap from the roofs of houses upon poles shod with iron, which appear to run through their bodies, after which they are carried like spitted victims through the streets. The dancing and howling dervishes of Cairo have often been described, but their brethren in Bagdad far surpass them in wildness and frenzy. Educated and intelligent Mohammedans everywhere repudiate these sects, but their hold on the superstitious masses is so strong, that not even the government dares interfere, except in extreme cases, to preserve the public peace.

The bazaars of Bagdad are especially interesting, and seem crowded at all hours of the day with a most varied and heterogeneous mass of humanity. The attractions of bright colors and gaudy costumes all belong to the male sex. The street dress of the women is the extreme of ugliness, being a

which completely envelops the wearer from head to foot. The females here wear in the street a peculiar black mask made of thinly woven horse-hair. It effectually

hides the face, but allows a free circulation of air, and through it they can see all that passes before them. The lower class of Arab women go abroad unveiled. They are very ugly, their arms being tatooed with blue marks, and the married ones wearing on one side of the nostril a gold or silver ornament like a large filigree-work button, and anklets and bracelets of silver or brass, according to their

means.

The principal bazaars are in a triple range, protected from the sun

by a lofty arched roof of brick and mortar. Each kind of merchandise and branch of trade has its own section. Here can be seen the beautiful fabrics of Persia and Cashmere, the jewels of India, the spices and perfumes of Arabia, and the more familiar manufactures of Europe. The languages spoken are as various as the costumes of the people.

The bazaars are none of them more than twelve feet in width, and while we gaze about half bewildered at the curious scene, we are in danger of being trampled on by trains of loaded camels, mules or donkeys, or by the heels of a mettled Arab horse, whose rider, a Bedouin from the desert, looks neither to the right nor the left, but goes his way with an air of fierce independence as if lord of the soil.

The coffee shops are very numerous, and on the large benches outside covered with straw matting, there is always a crowd of loungers. I am told that wine, imported from Europe, but forbidden by the Koran, and a fiery spirit distilled from dates, called arrack, are sold in many of these places, but I have never seen a person here who seemed intoxicated.

Often when alone I have stopped at these coffee-shops, where room would courteously be made for me on one of the divans, and an attendant, without any special order,