THE MODERN THAMES. 133 



in velvet black cap and dainty brown, pottering about 

 the willow near me. This was really like the beauti- 

 ful river I had dreamed of. If only we could persuade 

 ourselves to remain quiescent when we are happy ! 

 If only we would remain still in the armchair as the 

 last curl of vapour rises from a cigar that has been 

 enjoyed ! If only we would sit still in the shadow 

 and not go indoors to write that letter ! Let happi- 

 ness alone. Stir not an inch; speak not a word: 

 happiness is a coy maiden — hold her hand and be 

 still. 



In an evil moment I spied the corner of a news- 

 paper projecting from the pocket of my coat in the 

 stern-sheets. Folly led me to open that newspaper, 

 and in it I saw and read a ghastly paragraph. Two 

 ladies and a gentleman while boating had been carried 

 by the current against the piles of a weir. The 

 boat upset; the ladies were rescued, but the unfor- 

 tunate gentleman was borne over the fall and drowned. 

 His body had not been recovered ; men were watching 

 the pool day and night till some chance eddy should 

 bring it to the surface. So perished my dream, and 

 the coy-maiden happiness left me because I could 

 not be content to be silent and still. The accident 

 had not happened at this weir, but it made no differ- 

 ence ; I could see all as plainly. A white face, blurred 

 and indistinct, seemed to rise up from beneath the 

 rushing bubbles till, just as it was about to jump to 

 the surface, as things do that come up, down it was 

 drawn again by that terrible underpuU which has 

 been fatal to so many good swimmers. 



Who can keep afloat with a force underneath drag- 



