THE RIVER. 129 



Beneath the towing-path, at the roots of the willow 

 bushes, which the tow-ropes, so often drawn over 

 them, have kept low, the water-docks lift their thick 

 stems and giant leaves. Bunches of rough-leaved 

 comfrey grow down to the water's edge indeed, the 

 coarse stems sometimes bear signs of having been 

 partially under water when a freshet followed a storm. 

 The flowers are not so perfectly bell-shaped as those 

 of some plants, but are rather tubular. They appear 

 in x\pril, though then green, and may be found all the 

 summer months. Where the comfrey grows thickly 

 the white bells give some colour to the green of the 

 bank, and would give more were they not so often 

 overshadowed by the leaves. 



Water betony, or persicaria, lifts its pink spikes 

 everywhere, tiny florets close together round the stem 

 at the top ; the leaves are willow-shaped, and there is 

 scarcely a hollow or break in the bank where the 

 earth has fallen which is not clothed with them. A 

 mile or two up the river the tansy is plentiful, bearing 

 golden buttons, which, like every fragment of the 

 feathery foliage, if pressed in the fingers, impart to 

 them a peculiar scent. There, too, the yellow loose- 

 strife pushes up its tall slender stalks to the top of the 

 low willow bushes, that the bright yellow flowers may 

 emerge from the shadow. 



The river itself, the broad stream, ample and full, 

 exhibits all its glory in this reach ; from One Tree to 

 the Lock it is nearly straight, and the river itself is 

 everything. Between wooded hills, or where divided 

 by numerous islets, or where trees and hedges enclose 

 the view, the stream is but part of the scene. Here 



E 



