THE lilVER. 139 



Lard at work. The men in this one, scarcely glancing 

 at my idle skiff, go steadily on, dropping the scoop, 

 steadying the pole, turning the crank, and emptying 

 the pebbles with a rattle. 



Where do these pebbles come from ? Like the 

 stream itself there seems a continual supply; if a 

 bank be scooped away and punted to the shore 

 presently another bank forms. If a hollow be 

 deepened, by and by it fills up ; if a channel be 

 opened, after a while it shallows again. The stony 

 current flows along below, as the liquid current above. 

 Yet in so many centuries the strand has not been 

 cleared of its gravel, nor has it all been washed out 

 from the banks. 



The skiff drifts again, at first slowly, till the current 

 takes hold of it and bears it onward. Soon it is 

 evident that a barge-port is near — a haven where 

 barges discharge their cargoes. A by-way leads 

 down to the river where boats are lying for hire— a 

 dozen narrow punts, waiting at this anchorage till 

 groundbait be lawful. The ends of varnished skiffs, 

 high and dry, are visible in a shed carefully covered 

 with canvass ; while sheaves of oars and sculls lean 

 against the wooden wall. 



Through the open doors of another shed there may 

 be had a glimpse of shavings and tools, and sHght 

 battens crossing the workshop in apparent confusion, 

 forming a curious framework. These are the boat- 

 builder's struts and stays, and contrivances to keep 

 the boat in rigid position, that her lines may be true 

 and delicate, strake upon strake of dull red mahogany 

 rising from the beechen keel, for the craftsman 



