8 By Stream and Sea. 



It is a common expression that you can look upon a scene 

 like this without tiring ; but not more common than true. 

 The poor women, married and single, who toil in the rag- 

 mill up the road, the labourers returning with the expiring 

 day from fallow and fen, the country folk, driving back- 

 wards and forwards, generally slacken speed or stop on the 

 crest of the bridge that they may once more take in the 

 panorama with which they have been for many years 

 familiar; and every night the angler, as he steps out to 

 smoke his pipe of peace, will be sure to find groups of 

 natives looking over the coping into the water below, 

 looking at nothing particular, but hugely comforted neverthe- 

 less by the occupation. 



The barge life of this Hertfordshire valley cannot long 

 escape the notice of the frequent visitor. It is a phase 

 of life not at all creditable to a Christian land and a 

 missionary-loving people. The bargees are sottishly ignor- 

 ant, and treat their womenfolk as if they were savages. 

 Being continually on the water, and continually on the 

 move, in our midst but ever passing, on shore yet on 

 water, no one seems to think of them. They belong to 

 no parish, and have no responsibilities; neither does any 

 teacher or guide feel responsibility towards them. True 

 it is that there are exceptions to the rule; some of the 

 barges are well-regulated cottages, whose little aft cabin 

 is clean, painted with some idea of artistic adornment, and 

 the abode of a family literally born and bred 1 within its 

 shadowy recesses. But these are rare exceptions indeed. 

 To the anglers' inn there is a lower region where the 

 barge men and barge women call for refreshments when 

 passing through the lock hard by, and he who would prefer 

 not to see the face of womankind disfigured by every kind 

 of bruise, or to hear horrible blasphemies rolling from a 



