ON THE ITHON 31 



cheerful liquid, I attacked the river again, for it 

 has a curious fascination for me. I have not yet 

 solved the geographical problem in its connection, 

 for its winding ways round the town, and yet 

 almost entirely invisible from any point, are not 

 easily made clear to a stranger. I know a little 

 better now. I thought I would begin this day's 

 expedition by starting from Shaky Bridge and 

 fish up to Alpine Bridge. Now, it appears to me 

 that the Shaky Bridge may be taken as at the base 

 of a pothook thus, U and Alpine Bridge is up 

 one or the other of the sides. 



Two young ladies accompanied me, and when 

 we reached the bridge we remembered we had 

 forgotten to inquire whether we should go up- 

 stream or down-stream. Judging by a rough map 

 I had, I decided for ^/-stream ; so we took the right 

 stem of the pothook, and off we went, fishing now 

 and then without any success, but mostly occupied 

 in finding and fighting our way to Alpine Bridge, 

 through woods impenetrable, over fences purposely 

 made by the farmer as thorny and difficult as 

 possible, climbing up rocky banks, and having a 

 general scramble for more than two miles up- 

 stream, when, to our delight, one of us descried in 

 the distance a wooden bridge. Alpine Bridge at 

 last, we cried, for we had struggled along in a 

 blazing sun, scratched, torn, and footsore. We 

 found it to be a handsome wooden structure, 

 spanning the wide river, and underneath the 

 bridge we looked down, as we passed over, on 



