when questioned as to his unusual proceedings. Ea, who as the god of wisdom is naturally a master of evasion, provides him with a subterfuge, and Sitnapistim sets about building his boat. He forms it of timber and reeds, and makes it watertight by filling up the crevices with pitch, which he poured over it both within and without. It is of great interest, as showing the local coloring of the legend and the survival of an ancient custom, to observe that this practice of paying the native boats of the Euphrates with pitch has persisted in Mesopotamia down to the present day, natural pitch being used, which occurs at various localities in the valley, but particularly near the town of Hit. Sitnapistim's method of procedure, both in building and paying his boat, may still be witnessed at Hit as a matter of almost every-day occurrence.
Sitnapistim having provisioned the vessel, and brought into it all his goods and chattels, received an intimation of the immediate approach of the catastrophe; he went on board with his family and friends, closed the roof, and prudently intrusted the helm to the sailor—Buzar-sadi-rabi. Heavy rain fell during an anxious night, and as soon as daybreak appeared—
"There arose from the foundation of heaven, a dark cloud,
The storm-god Raman thundered in its midst and
Nebo and Merodach went in front.
As leaders they passed over mountain and plain.
Ninîb went therein, and the storm behind him followed.
The Anunnaki raised high their torches,
With their radiant brightness the land glittered,
The turmoil of Ramân reached to heaven,
All that was light was turned to darkness.
**********
In the earth men perished. . . .
Brother beheld not his brother, men knew not one another. In the heaven
The gods were terrified by the deluge, and
Hastened to ascend to the heaven of Anu.
The gods were like a dog—sat down cowering on the ring wall of heaven.
Ishtar cried like one filled with anger.
Cried the mistress of the gods—the sweet-voiced—
'The former generation is turned to clay. . . .
What I have borne, where is it?
Like fish spawn it fills the sea.'"
For six days the flood lasted and ceased on the seventh, and then Sitnapistim is made to say:
"I looked on the sea and called aloud,
But the whole of mankind was turned to clay.
I opened the air-hole, and the light fell on my face:
I bowed low, sat down, and wept,
Over my face flowed my tears."
