The Modern Thames 



IT 



I looked forward to living by the river with delight, 

 anticipating the long rows I should have past the 

 green eyots and the old houses red-tiled among the 

 trees. I should pause below the weir and listen to 

 the pleasant roar, and watch the fisherman cast again 

 and again with the " transcendent patience " of genius 

 by which alone the Thames trout is captured. Twist- 

 ing the end of a willow bough round my wrist I could 

 moor myself and rest at ease, though the current 

 roared under the skiff, fresh from the waterfall. A 

 thousand thousand bubbles rising to the surface would 

 whiten the stream a thousand thousand succeeded 

 by another thousand thousand and still flowing, no 

 multiple could express the endless number. That 

 which flows continually by some sympathy is ac- 

 ceptable to the mind, as if thereby it realised its own 

 existence without an end. Swallows would skim the 

 water to and fro as yachts tack, the sandpiper would 

 run along the strand, a black-headed bunting would 

 perch upon the willow ; perhaps, as the man of genius 

 fishing and myself made no noise, a kingfisher might 

 come, and we might see him take his prey. 



Or I might quit hold of the osier, and, entering a 

 shallow backwater, disturb shoals of roach playing 

 where the water was transparent to the bottom, after 

 their wont. Winding in and out like an Indian in his 

 canoe, perhaps traces of an otter might be found his 

 kitchen modding and in the sedges moorhens and 

 wildfowl would hide from me. From its banks I 

 should gather many a flower and notice many a plant, 

 there would be, too, the beautiful water-lily. Or I 

 should row on up the great stream by meadows full of 



