THE RIVER. 131 



When at last a good opportunity is obtained, just as 

 the boat heels over, and the rushing bubbles at the 

 prow resound, she must be put about, and the flap- 

 ping foresail almost brushes the osiers. If she does 

 not come round if the movement has been put off a 

 moment too long the keel grates, and she is aground 

 immediately. It is nothing but tacking, tacking, 

 tacking a kind of stitching the stream. 



Nor can one always choose the best day for the 

 purpose ; the exigencies of business, perhaps, will not 

 permit, and when free, the wind, which has been 

 scattering tiles and chimney-pots and snapping tele- 

 graph wires in the City all the week, drops on the 

 Saturday to nothing. He must possess invincible 

 patience, and at the same time be always ready to 

 advance his vessel even a foot, and his judgment must 

 never fail him at the critical time. 



But the few brief hours when the circumstances 

 are favourable compensate for delays and monotonous 

 calms ; the vessel, built on well-judged lines, answers 

 her helm and responds to his will with instant 

 obedience, and that sense of command is perhaps the 

 great charm of sailing. There are others who find a 

 pleasure in the yacht. When at her moorings on a 

 sunny morning she is sometimes boarded by laughing 

 girls, who have put off from the lawn, and who 

 proceed in the most sailor-like fashion to overhaul the 

 rigging and see that everything is ship-shape. No 

 position shows off a well-poised figure to such advan- 

 tage as when, in a close-fitting costume, a lady's arms 

 are held high above her head to haul at a rope. 



So the river life flows by; skiffs, and four oars, 



