A sight more beautiful
and peculiar than this, Paul never witnessed since or before. The river
now seemed to shoot from the hills into the low land. On either side was
a heavy growth of willows.
He saw no one until about nine that morning, when sweeping around a bend
he came on a boat containing two men with a swivel gun, after ducks.
Both men were greatly excited and one of them turned the swivel in his
direction. Paul shouted vigorously at him not to fire, and fortunately
he did not. He ran along side and held a conversation in the best
Italian he could muster. They informed him that he was nearing the
village of Frassinetto and offered him provisions. He accepted a piece
of bread which he ate and again started on his journey. A couple of
hours afterward he came to a flying bridge, an institution peculiar to
many European rivers. It consists of a long line of small boats strung
together on a heavy cable, anchored in the centre of the river. The
boats supported the cable. The last boat on the line is the ferry or
bridge. This is much larger than any of the others and has a steering
oar. When cast away from one shore, the ferry is steered diagonally
against the current to the opposite side while the line of boats
supporting the cable swing with it.
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