UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH Darlington Atemorial LiLi ary W/LUAIV! & MARY DARL!f4GT0r MEMORIAL LIBRARY UNIVtRSiTY OF PITTSnnr?G:-j u U'' THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. WILLIAM 4 MARV DARLINGTON ri^MORIAL LIBRARY THE .\C„SiTy GF PITTSSUrtGH BOOK OF THE THAMES, Its |{bc k its M. MR. AND MRS. S. C. HALL. ' Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull ; Strong without rage, without o'erflowing, full." Denha.m. LONDON : ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, AND CO. 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. 1859. < A LONDON : rUINTED BY .lAMFS S. CITV KOAD. THE AUTIOES TO THE PUBLIC. E have the honour to submit to the public a " Book of the Thames," from its Kise to its Fall : hopeful that our readers may share with us the enjoyment we have so long, and so ^ often, derived from the " King of Island Rivers 1" \l We have reprinted it from the Art-Journal, avail- ^ ing ourselves of suggestions, from time to time received, enabling us to correct mistakes, generally to revise it, and to make such additions (neither few nor unimportant) as our own augmented experience, and the advice of competent friends and cor- respondents, have naturally induced. \Yc have traced the bountiful river from the bubbling well out of which it issues, in the meadow by Trewsbury Mead — its lonely birth- })lace — through its whole course, gathering tributaries, and passing with them through tranquil villages, populous toAvns, and crowded cities ; ever fertilizing, ever beautifying, ever enriching, until it reaches the most populous city of the modern or tbe ancient world, forming thence the Great Highway by which a hundred Nations traverse the globe. Our object will not be answered if we fail to show that, although in landscape beauty it may be inferior to other British rivers, its graces THE AUTHORS TO THE PUBLIC. and its grandeur less, the Thames has attractions of its own which phace it high above all competitors ; while it is by no means poor in natural gifts — of hill and dale, of wood and plain, of all that makes free Nature a perpetual charm, a never-ending delight. Aided by several accomplished artists, we have largely illustrated this volume, not only by engravings of its picturesque scenery, but by introducing the various objects of interest that are found upon its banks.'-' It is a pleasant task, and brings with it a large reward ^ — that which has for its aim and end to make manifest the advantages that recompense a Home Tour. Any author, no matter how humble, who writes of England, may show how manifold are its means to create enjoyment, to convey instruction, and to augment a rational pride of country — the instinctive patriotism that may exist without contracting the heart or narrowing the mind. Several circumstances have of late combined to induce acquaintance with the charms of scenery, grand or beautiful, which our islands so plentifully supply. The lovely lakes, the mountain-rocks that guard our coasts, the rugged mountains, the wood- clad hills, the dense forests, the delicious dells, the rippling burns and rapid rivers, the spacious * It is a pleasant duty to record our grateful thanks to those by whom we have been thus assisted. Our esteemed friend and frequent associate, Mr. F. W. Fairholt, F.S.A., has rendered this work of value by his pen as well as by his pencil : to him we are indebted for many of the " notes," which his extensive knowled^'e as an antiquary has enabled him to make both instructive and interesting. To our friend, Mr. Thomas Wrigut, F.S. A., we have also to acknowledge our obligations for his revision of those parts which involve matters concerning the early people of these kingdoms. To Mr. W. S. Coleman — whose drawings and sketches, made in our company, have supplied us with a large pro- portion of the engravings — we owe much, not alone because of his great ability as an artist, but for the zeal and cordiality with which, upon all occasions, he laboured to give value to our undertaking, in the important part of it that was mainly under his control. And to Commander Waltkr W. May, R.N., our thanks are due for the liberal kindness with which he contributed those pictures of sea-scape and shipping, the value of which mainly depended on their accuracy, and which his professional knowledge, combined with his artistic skill, enabled him to give to them. There are other artists whose aid we gratefully acknowledge. THE AUTUORS TO THE PUBLIC. harbours, the green islets, the rural villages, the luxurious demesnes — these and many other attractions await the traveller who journeys through any of the shires of England, Scotland, Ireland, or Wales. We shall be, indeed, repaid largely if we are the means of inducing travels at Home — to natural beauties, surely not less delightful because of comparatively easy access — to scenes that are associated with glorious memories, and are wholesome and honourable stimulants — to places, such as the banks of the river Thames, where every step is a reminder that \XQ live in a free land, under the sway of a Sovereign to whom every subject of every degree, while rendering obedience as a sacred duty, offers the homage of the heart. This Book of the Thames is full of evidence that justifies all who honour " The venerable name Of our adored country " in exclaiming, also with the Poet — ■ "Oh, thou Queen, Thou delegated Deity of Earth, O dear, dear England I " S. C. H. A. M. H. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE The Source of the Thames 9 The Hoar Stone 10 The Church and Village of Cotes . ... 12 The First Tunnel 13 The Porch ; Kenible Church 15 Water Crowfoot 16 The Fii-st Bridge on the Thames .... 17 The Kiiighsher 18 The Minnow and Stickleback 19 The Rustic Bridge 21 The First Mill 24 The Comfrey 25 The Church, Somerford Keynes . . . _ 26 Cross at Cricklade 2S Cross at Cricklade 29 Font at Castle Eaton 30 Bell Tower, Castle Eaton 31 The Green Forester 36 The Church at Kempsford 38 Carved Stone at Inglesham 41 Junction of Thames, Coin, and Canal . . 42 The Barge 43 The Moorhen 45 Lechladc Bridge and Church 46 The first Lock 47 Radcot Bridge 48 The Dragon-fly 49 The Pike 50 Spire of Bampton Church 51 The Dock 53 New Bridge 54 Hart's Weir 56 Weir Paddles : 57 Stanton Harcourt : from the Meadows . . 58 Stanton Harcourt 59 Pope's Study, Stanton Harcourt .... 60 The Vane, Stanton Harcourt 61 Bablock Hithe Ferry 65 Ensliam Bridge 70 Ensham Cross 70 American Weed 71 Cassington Church 73 The University Paper-mill 74 Godstow Bridge 75 Ruins of Godstow Nunnery 77 PAGE Eels 78 The Arrow-head 80 Oxford, from near Binsey 81 Osney Lock 83 The Water-lily t5 Porch at Rawley Al)bey 86 Oxford Castle 92 The Roach and Dace 94 Friar Bacon's Study 96 Oxford 97 Folly Bridge 109 State Barges 110 The House-boat HI Junction of the Cherwell and the Thames 113 Iffley Church 114 Cottages at Nuneham Courtenay . . . 116 Carfax Conduit 118 Distant View of Abingdon Church . . . 120 The Almshouses at Abiugdon 122 The Reed-warbler 129 The Crayfish 130 Flowering Rush 131 Ivy-leaved Snapdragon 132 Amber-shell 133 Clifton Hampton Church, and Ferry . 134 Lich-gate, Clifton 135 Dyke Hills, Dorchester 138 The Font, Dorchester 140 Wallingford 142 Goring Church 144 Perch and Gudgeon 147 Whitchurch 149 Pangbourne 150 Purple Loosestrife 151 Yellow Loosestrife 152 Maple-Durham Church and Mill .... 153 Maple-Durham House 154 Caversham Bridge 156 Three-Mile Cross 161 Swallowfield 166 The Tomb of Miss Mitford 168 Sonning Church 169 Shiplake Church 170 Wargrave Church 171 The Boat-house at Park Place ... .172 X LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. The Druid Temple at Park Place . . The Caddis PAGE . 173 . 175 . 1V7 . 183 . 184 . 1S5 . 189 . 190 . 193 194 Gateway to Fox's House St. Anne's Well Cowley's House Cowley's Seat The Wey Bridge PAGE . . 283 . . 284 . . 285 . . 285 . . 286 The May-fly The Trout .... MasliS of the Thames and Isis .... Henley-on-Thames Island, Fawley Court Eacing-boat Medmenham Abbey Door of Medmenham Abbey .... The Vault at Lady Place Bisham Abbey Shepperton Church Coway Stakes . , . . . . 287 . . 288 Antiquities from the Thames . . . Saxon Personal Ornaments . . . . Interior of Bradshaw's House . . . Walton Church . . 290 . . 291 . . 292 . 293 Scold's Bridle . . 294 Bisham Church . . 195 . 19S . 198 . 200 . 202 208 Walton Bridge . . 295 The Inn at Marlow Suubury Garrick's Villa . . 297 . . 299 Cookham Church Cliefden Entrance to Hampton Court . . Hampton Court : Garden Front . . The Maze . . 302 . . 306 . . 307 Maidenhead Bridge .... Bray Church . 209 . 211 . 212 . 213 . 214 . 218 . 221 . 223 . 227 Wolsey's Tower . . 314 Down Place The Swan at Ditton The Cottage of Jane Porter . . . Yellow Water-lily Yellow Buekbean . . 316 . . 319 . . 320 321 Maidenhead .... Boveney Cliurch Boveney Lock Swan Marks Wild Teasel . . 321 Green Tortoise-beetle Water-works: Seething Wells . . . 322 . . 323 Ancient Windsor Castle Crypt in Bell Tower Windsor Castle . 229 . 230 . 235 . 238 . 239 . 241 . 242 . 244 . 251 250 Kingston Bridge Sheep Washing . . .... . . 327 . . 332 Edward III. and St. George .... Stoke Pogis Church The Ivy-mantled Tower Heme's Oak: the Earlier Heme's Oak : the Later Wickliff's Oak Windsor Lock Teddington Church 335 Lamprey and Lampern .... Strawberry Hill . . 336 . . 338 Pope's Villa 340 Twickenham Church Pope's Monument . . 343 . . 344 Twickenham Ait . . 345 Victoria Brid-'e Ham House . . .... . 346 Old Windsor Church View at Old Windsor View from Cooper's Hill Magna Charta Island A Clause of Magna Charta Cottage on Magna Charta Island . . . . 254 . 258 . 260 . 262 . 264 . 266 . . 347 View from Richmond Hill . . . Richmond Hill . . 356 . . 357 The Shrew-ash . . 3G0 . . 363 Remains of Kichmond Palace . . The Chub . . 365 . . 367 Forget-me-not opY The Pope . . 368 Large-flowered Willow Herb .... Carp . 268 269 . . 369 Caterpillarof the Hawk-moth . . The Elephant Hawk-moth . . . . . 369 . . 370 . . 370 Tench .... 270 The Boundary Stone Staines Bridge .... . 271 275 Meadow Crane's-bill The Reed . . 371 . . 372 The Barbel 277 Laleham Ferry .... 279 Brass in Isleworth Church . . . Water Pavilion at Sion House . . . . 373 . . 374 376 Chertsey Bridge Remains of Chertsey Abbey .... . 281 Kew Palace . . 377 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. xl Gainsborough's Tomb Kew Bridge PAGE . 380 . 381 . 382 . 383 . 386 . 38V . 389 . 390 . 391 . 393 . 393 . 394 . 394 . 396 . 397 . 398 . 399 . 400 . 401 . 402 . 404 . 405 . 408 . 410 . 411 . 412 . 413 . 414 . 416 . 417 . 418 . 419 . 420 . 423 . 425 . 425 . 427 . 428 . 430 . 431 . 433 . 434 . 435 . 436 . 437 . 440 . 441 . 442 . 443 Old St. Paul's Cathedral Wren's Plan for Rebuilding London . Baynard's Castle The Lord Mayor's Barge Queenhithe Paris Garden PAGE 444 446 448 449 450 451 452 453 454 455 456 457 458 462 463 464 466 467 468 470 471 473 474 475 Mortlalie Church Old Summer-house at Mortlake . . . Hogarth's House Hogarth's Tomb Hammersmith Church The Star and Garter, Putney Bridge . The Thames Wherry The Sliiff The " Billy-boy " Fishmongers' Hall Colliers Unloading Gate : Old London Bridge The Shallop The Funny Eigh[-oared Cutter Houses on London Bridge, 175C . . . Fresh Wharf Billingsgate . . . ... Fulham Church, and Prior's Banic . . Battersea Bridge Chelsea Church Remains of Roman House, Coal Exchange The Custom House Sir Thomas More's House The Tower . Cheyne Walk Chapel in the Tower Ships at Tower Stairs Rotherhithe Church : Tunnel Pier . . Entrance to the West India Docks . . Isle of Dogs Chelsea Hospital : Side View .... Chelsea Hospital : Front View . . . The New Bridge at Chelsea Eanelagh Fawkes-hall Deptford Dockyard Curiosities fished from the Thames . . Ballast-dredger Greenwich Hospital The Naval School, Greenwich .... Whitebait 479 481 Millbank Prison and Steam-boat Pier . The Lollards' Prison Guard Chamber, Lambeth Palace . . Houses of Parliament The Star-chamber Old Westminster Hall Old Whitehall Woolwich Woolwich Dockyard Erith The Curfew Tower, Barking .... The Couvre-feu The Piscina 492 493 495 496 496 497 500 502 503 505 506 507 508 509 510 511 511 512 513 514 515 Grays Church Gravesend Tilt-boat Tilbury Fort Gravesend Pier Shells Fortifications at Gravesend . ... Gateway to House of James II. . . . Gravesend Reach Hay-boat . . . York House Durham House . . . Salisbury and Worcester Houses . . . The Savoy A Pedlar Waterloo Bridge, and Somerset House . Old Somerset House View from Arundel House Cliffe Church Beacon . . ... Essex House . . . Relique in Clitfe Church Barges at Blackfriars Fleet Bridge Thames and Medway St. Paul's Cathedral Wren's Original Design for St, Pauls . The Reculvcrs . . THE BOOK OF THE THAMES, FROM ITS RISE TO ITS FALL. '- HE Thames is " tlie King of Island Rivers ; " if deficient in the grander fea- tures of landscape, it is rich in pictorial beauty ; its associations are closely linked with heroic men and glorious achieve- ments ; its antiquities are of the rarest and most instructive order ; its natural productions of the highest interest ; it wanders through fertile meads and beside pleasant banks, gathering strength from a thousand tributaries ; on either side are remains of ancient grandeur, homely vil- lages, retired cottages, palatial dwellings, and populous cities and towns ; boats and barges, and the sea-craft of a hundred nations, indicate and enhance its wealth ; numerous locks and bridges facilitate its navigation, and promote the traffic that gives it fame. Its history is that of England: the Britons, the Romans, the Saxons, the Danes, and the Normans, in turn made it their " seat of war," or, settling upon its banks, sought the repose of peace and the blessings of agriculture and commerce. In all the civil contests of centuries it obtained melancholy renown : the intrenched camp, the castle, the baronial hall, the mansion, the villa, occupied adjacent steeps, THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. commanded fords, or adorned its sides, as harmony took the place of discord, and tranquillity succeeded strife. There is scarcely a mile of its borders which may not give birth to some ha^py thought in associa- tion with the past : abbeys, monasteries, and churches exhibit their remains, or rear " the tall spire," consecrated by use and age ; the better parts of their structures having endured with the purer portions of the ancient faith. Sites and memorials of famous battles — king with baron, lord with serf, ancient owners of the soil with its invaders, those who warred for despotism or fought for liberty, for feudal rights or freedom ; the cromlech of the Briton, the tumulus of the Koman, the barrow of the Saxon, the sculptured tomb of the knight, and the simple monument of the gentleman ; — these are to be found, in numbers, on its banks. The names of very many of the great men of England — who "penned" or '•' uttered wisdom" — are nearly or remotely connected with this river : in its "fields beloved" their "careless childhood stray'd;" in its city of colleges, " for meditation apt," their youth gathered strength for the strife of manhood. To its banks full often came the soldier, the states- man, the scholar, and the poet, " after life's fitful fever," to seek that rest from labour which is labour's best recompence — to enjoy alike " The solid pomp of prosperous days, The peace and shelter of adversity." Flowing through rich alluvial soil, that is never sterile, during the whole of its course it meets not an acre of unmanageable bog, and hardly a square yard that does not produce pasture or foliage, except where it refreshes and prospers active villages, busy towns, or crowded cities — venerable Oxford, regal Windsor, "mighty London," and a hundred places, wealthy and famous. It would be indeed impossible to over-estimate the value of the Thames to the British capital. It is said that when one of our sovereigns, angry with the chief magistrate of the metropohs, threatened to ruin it by removing the court, he received the memorable answer, " But your Majesty cannot remove the Thames !" It will require no very great stretch of imagination to pass from the little streamlet in Trewsbury Mead to " the Pool " below the Tower. The river, born in a sequestered nook, grows and gathers strength until THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. it bears on its bosom " a forest of masts ;" em-iches tlie greatest and most populous city of any age ; ministers to the wants and luxuries of two millions of people — there- alone ; becomes the mainstay of commerce, and the missionary of civilization to mankind, carrying their inmimerable blessings throughout the Old World and the New ; yet ever the active auxiliary, and never the dangerous ally — keeping from its birth to its close the character so happily conveyed by the famous lines of the poet : — " Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull ; Strong without rage ; -without o'erflowiug, full." Few, therefore, are the poets of England who have no word for " Old Father Thames I " Even its minor enjoyments have been fertile themes for the muse; and numerous are they who laud the "gentle craft" of the angler, whose "idle time is never idly spent" beside the river which, above all others, invites to contemplation, and promotes familiar inter- course with Nature, Here, too, the botanist and the entomologist gather a rich harvest of instruction ; while to the landscape painter, wander where he will — "By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green : # « » * While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrow'd land. And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe " — it is ever an open volume of natural beauties, which are the only veritable teachers of art. To this River — the King of Island Rivers — we dedicate this Book. Before we ask the reader to accompany us on our tour, we require him to pause awhile, and consider two essential points — its source, and the name under which it is rightly to be recognised and known. Both are in disi^ute. The Churn, which rises at "Seven Springs," about three miles from Cheltenham, and joins the Thames at Cricklade, is sometimes described as the source of the great river. Generally speaking, the source of a river is the spring farthest from its mouth ; and the head of the Churn is farther from the Nore than Thames Head by perhaps fifteen miles. But old writers, old maps, and old documents, unite in representing " Thames Head," near Cirencester, as the head of THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. the river Thames. Leland (temp. Henry VIII.) tells us that " Isis riseth at three myles from Cirencestre, not far from a village cawlled Kemble, within half a mile of the Fosseway, wher the very head of Isis is ; " Stow, that " the most excellent and goodly river beginneth in Coteswold, about a mile from Titbury, and as much from the hie way called Fosse ; " Camden, that " it riseth not far from Tarlton, hard by the famous Foss-way;" Atkins (1712), that "it riseth in the parish of Cotes;" Rudder (1779), that " it has been reputed to rise in the parish of Cotes, out of a well." These authorities might be multiplied ; and although Atkins and Rudder (the earliest historians of Gloucestei'shire) both write of the Churn, and its claim to be considered the head of the Thames, " being the highest source from whence it derives its water " — and no doubt such claim will have many advocates — we have treated the river Thames as rising at Thames Head, near " a village cawlled Kem- ble," hard by the " famous Foss-way." With respect to the name, it is derived directly from that by which it was known in the time of Julius Caesar, Tameses, which, as well as its Anglo-Saxon representative, Temese, is sufficiently near the modern Thames to be considered as identical with it. Lhwyd, the learned Welsh scholar, believes it to be identical also with the Taf — the name of several rivers in Wales. But there are other English rivers bearing names almost the same. In Staffordshire we have the nearest resem- blance in the Tame ; in Shropshire is the Teme ; and in Cornwall is the Tamar. There are minor streams in other counties bearing similar designations, which appear to be derived from one root, and the signi- fication of all to imply " a gentle stream." " This," writes Camden, " is that Isis, which afterwards joining with Tame, by adding the names together is called Tamisis, chief of the British rivers, of which we may ti'uly say, as ancient writers did of Euphrates in the East, that it both plants and waters Britain." Camden thus speaks of the river as " the Isis " until it mingles with the Tame — with which it is joined between Abingdon and WaUingford — about a mile from Dorchester. But there is just ground to believe that this is merely a fanciful designation, to which currency was given by Camden, who is said by his biographer, THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. Bishop Gibson, to be the author of that Latin, poem, introduced into the " Britannia," which commemorates " the marriage of the Tame and Isis." * Stow, Speed, and Hollinshed, his contemporaries, follow in his wake. But Bishop Gibson effectually dispels the illusion, and shows that from a very remote period — certainly anterior to the Conquest — the name of the river was the Thames {cujus vocabulum Temis, juxta vadum quod appellatur Somerford) ; thus confirming not only the fact that the Isis was a name given to it long afterwards, but that the Thames " near Somerford " is that Thames which rises near Cirencester, and not the Churn, which has its birthplace near Cheltenham. " The same appears from several charters to the Abbeys of Malmesbury and Evesham, and from old deeds relating to Cricldade ; and perhaps it may be with safety af&rmed that it never occurs in any charter or authentic history under the name of Isis." By the Saxons it was undoubtedly called the Thames : f on all ancient maps and documents it is marked as "Thamesis Fluvius." One of the oldest streets of Oxford was Thames Street (now George Street), anciently " Platea Thamesina." The term " Isis " was certainly unknown to our remote ancestors ; its use is opposed to every principle of the English language ; while it appears contrary to common sense to call a continuous stream by one name in the first half, and by another name in the other half, its channel being in no way changed, and its character in no degree altered. The error, however (for so, after the testimony of Bishop Gibson and others, we must consider it), has largely prevailed. It is traceable, no doubt, to the fancy which tempted the separation of the single Latin word * Some writers concerning the Thames have given to CamJen the credit of inventing the name Isis ; but it is clear that it is older than his time. Leland, who preceded Camden by thirty or forty years, distinctly refers to the Thames as the Isis, and quotes from an authority yet older—" Isa nascitur &, quodam fonticulo juxta Tetbiriam prope Circestriam— orttis Isidas (?«."— (Joannis Lelandi de rebus Britan. Collect.) t The name of the river at its highest point, and forty miles above its junction with the Tame, near Dorchester, is given in the Saxon Chronicle almost as it is spelt in the present day— that is, " Temese." The following are two literal translations from this curious record : — " A.D. 905.— This year ..Ethelwold enticed the army in East Anglia to break the peace, so that they ravaged over all the land of Mercia, until they came to Cricklade, and then went over the Thames.'" "A.D. 1016.— In this year came Canute with his army, and Eadric the .ffildorman with him, over Thames into Mercia at Cricklade." It is also called Thames in the Anglo-Saxon charters relating to Eynsham, in Oxfordshire. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. " Tamesis " into two words, Tame esis or Tame isis — suggested by the fact that anotlier Tame did arise in Buckingliamsliire, and pour its waters into the great river, midway in its course between its source and London. There has been much consequent confusion ; sometimes Oxford is described "on the Thames," and sometimes " on the Isis." Even in the Ordnance Map it is called in one place the Thames, in another the Isis, and in another " the Thames or Isis," above the junction. The Tame is among the least important of its tributaries ; yielding in importance to many streams, above and below, which "run to the embraces" of the venerable Father. We consider, therefore, the Thames to be the traditional, the geographical, and the legal title of the river, and shall give to it only that name throughout this work.* The field iu which the Thames rises is called Trewsbury Mead, and adjoins a Roman encampment that has long borne, and still bears the name of Trewsbury Castle; this "castle" is a large mound, now covered by trees, the Severn and Thames Canal separating it from a fountain that, born in this secluded spot, becomes the great river that " both plants and waters Britain." The birthplace of the Thames is in the parish of Cotes, in Gloucestershire, but close to the borders of Wiltshire, into which it soon passes. The district is usually described as " at the foot of the Cotswold hills ;" but these hills are nowhere seen from the dell, and are, indeed, several miles distant.^ * The Town Clerk of Oxford courteously submitted to us a list of several hundred documents he had examined ; in no one of which was " the Thames " ever recognised as " the Isis." We state, therefore, on his authority, that in no ancient record of the city of Oxford is the name Isis to be found ; from the time of Domesday to the present time, it is not recognised by that name, but always as "the Thames.'" An additional authority has just been published, namely, the first vol. of the " Chronicon Monasterii de Abingdon," in which (p. 9), in the very first charter — that of Ina, King of Wessex — occurs the following passage : — " In super et de orientali parte fluminis Tamisa, xx. cassatos quos mihi Cuthredus regulus et Merciorum Rex Ethelredus necnon et Ini rex Saxonum tradiderunt adjiciam x. quoque cassatos secus vadum Bcstlesford," &c. (a.d. 699.) The river is mentioned in many places in this book, and is written Tamisa (as above), Tamesa, Thamisia, Tamesis, and always in Saxon, Temese. The charters relate to many places near Abingdon, above the river Tame (which is also mentioned sub voce by Cuddesdon, p. 200), and there are also charters relating to Wliitchurch and Kingston below. The name of Isis occurs nowhere. t This chain of gently-rising downs formed a territorial boundary to the early British tribes ; and many of the camps on the ridge are probably their work. But the Romans, fully aware of the import- ance of this line of demarkation, kept up the old landmarks and added others. In later times the THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. The ancient Eoraan way — called Aceman oi' Akeman Street * — crosses the country within half a mile of the source, and connects Ciren- cester witTi Bath. The source is ahout three miles south-west of Cirencester — a famous city in old times, and still a town of some importance, its church and town -hall being fine examples of the archi- tecture of the fifteenth century : its Roman name was derived from the British Caer Corin ; Ptolemy calls it Corinium Dohunorum ; Anto- ninus, Duro-Cornovium — most probably from dior, the British name for water. Cirencester was strongly fortified, to protect its inhabitants from "the fierce Silures," and appears to have enjoyed considerable wealth and importance ; these intrenchments were exclusively of earth- work, and remains of them may still be seen, stretching across from the Cotswolds to the Severn, on the heights forming the boundary of the vale of Gloucester. The town of Cirencester — which name is derived from the Saxon Cyren-ceaster — still shows many remains of Roman greatness, and some fine tesselated pavements have been discovered, one of which is still preserved in Lord Bathurst's park; the Museum also exhibits relics of the same ancient people, including various memorials of the Roman soldiery. Few English towns have afforded so rich a field for the antiquary ;"}" but the whole district to Woodchester and Gloucester abounds in such records ; they furnished Lysons with some of the most important plates to his great work on Roman remains in Britain. Several great roads branched across England from this city, and all may yet be traced in its immediate neighbourhood. They were known as the Irmin Street (north and south), the Akeman Street, Cotswolds Tvere almost exclusively celebrated for their pastoral character, and the fine breed of sheep there reared. New celebrity was given to them in the reign of Queen Elizabeth as hunting and coursing grounds, and Shakspere has immortalized the fact in his " Merry Wives of Windsor." Sub- sequently Mr. Robert Dovor, an attorney of Warwickshire, obtained licence from James I. to institute country sports of all kinds there, and he for forty years presided over them in person, " habited in a suit of his Majesty's old clothes." These games have been celebrated in the poems of Ben Jonson, Randolph, and Drayton. * Acman, in Anglo-Saxon, would mean an oak-man or forester. The Akeman Street would, there- fore, be the Forester's Pathway, if translated literally. t Corinium was certainly an important city in the Roman time; Richard of Monmouth concludes that it was built by a Roman general in the time of Claudius (probably by Plautius), to whom the Boduni first surrendered ; and that it had walls and a castle in the time of Constantine, and was strongly fortified. The coins so frequently found, of the reign of Constantine, may be accepted as evidence of the importance of the place at the period. THE BOOK OP THE THAMES. tlie Ickenild Street, and the Fossway.* So admirably were they con- structed by the Romans, that to this hour they are used, having retained their solidity for centuries. But the spot to which we direct the more immediate attention of our readers — Trewsbury Castle, a tree-covered mound, at the foot of which is the cradle of the Thames — retains nothing to indicate its long-ago importance ; in the silence and solitude of the place, and looking across the valley towards the great city of which this was an outpost, we recalled the lines of the poet — " I was that city, which tlie garland wore Of Britain's pride, delivered unto me By Roman victors, which it won of yore, Though nought at all but ruins now I be, And lie in my own ashes, as ye see." Having journeyed about three miles from Cirencester, along the Akeman Street of the Romans, crossed the Thames and Severn Canal, and arrived in sight of a railway, the shrill whistle of which broke the solitude of the place, and sadly jarred upon the mind at the moment, we reached a small valley, in which we had reason to believe we should find Thames Head. But neither maps nor books gave us any aid as guides. We naturally expected to trace the river to its source by tracking the signs that water almost invariably leaves on the line through which it passes along the meadow — " Which, with a livelier green. Betrays the secret of its silent course." But for such water -marks we sought in vain ; there were neither alders, nor osiers, nor rushes to be seen ; we observed nothing that could in any degree indicate the infant meanderings of a river. Fortunately, The Fossway receives its name from the intrenchment which runs parallel to it, on one side or other of its course, and which will be more perfectly understood by the aid of the appended diagram : a a is the level traversed by the road ; 6 represents the foss or dry ditch beside it. The earth thus dug out was thrown up to raise the road above the ordinary level, as seen at c. The Roman roads are generally raised higher than the ordinary level of the land, but there is no other Instance of the intrenchment, as in this Fossway. This is one of the most perfect of our Roman roads, and traverses the Cotswold range in a direct line. THE BOOK OP THE THAMES. however, we encounteved a venerable shepherd of the plain, who conducted us at once to the birthplace of the more venerable father. This is a well, which, when Boy dell published his History, in 1794, was " enclosed within a circular wall of stone, raised about eight feet from the surface of the meadow;" the stones have fallen, the well is now filled in ; it was with difficulty we could ascertain that it contained TIIF. SOORCE OF TaE THAMES. w^ater — that water being in the sunny month of June many feet below the surface ; but in winter it rises, forces itself through all impediments, ascends in thick jets, and overflows the valley, making its way to greet those earlier tributaries that await its coming to mingle with it and journey to the sea — " most loved of all the ocean's sons." " Thames Head" is therefore pictured, in the accompanying engraving, VOL. I. G 10 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. merely as a heap of stones, overshadowed by trees of no great size. There is not, as we have said, a single water-plant in its vicinity ; the bank of the canal forms its background ; the dell is a perfect solitude, no dwelling is near, the foot-path is seldom trodden — for, although there still exists "a right of way" through the meadows which lead from the village of Kemble below to that of Cotes above, it is rarely used ; but its loneliness is tranquillity, and its silence peace. The fields are fertile, and all things indicate that unobtrusive prosperity which suggests ideas of " contentment, parent of dehght." It is still termed ''■ Yeoing Field," and is a part of the parish of Ewelme, of which that name presents the corrupted form ; the parish of Ewelme, in Oxford- shire, is in old writing styled " New Elme," but ^Ewilme is its proper Saxon designation, i. e. a spring. It thus obviously derives its name from one of the springs which rises in the neighbourhood, and this must be the one known as " Thames Head." The Hoar Stone, here pictured, is a venerable relic of antiquity near it : it is named in a grant of lands here by King Athelstan in the year 931. This stone, in accordance with the most ancient usage, was an important boundary. Mr, Akerman (in " Archieologia," vol. xxxvii.) thus describes it : — " The Hoar Stone stands, and ajjpears to have stood since the day on which the charter was subscribed by /Ethelstan and his court, a few yards above the spring, just within the boundary wall of the Fossway. Of its antiquity there can be no doubt. It will be seen that it has been adapted to the purposes of a horse-block, or 'upping-stock.'" Here, doubtless, travellers in the olden time halted to refresh themselves and their beasts, the Fossway not being then enclosed. When Leland took his journey from Cirencester to Malmes- bury, he passed the spring. In his " Itinerary" he says, — " First I rode about a mile on Fosse, then I turned on the left hand, and came all by ILE UOAr toT()\E. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 11 champaiu grour.d, fruitful of corn and grass, but very little ^YOO,d." Drayton, in his curious topographical poem, " The Poly-Olbion," speaks of the Thames Head as the chief glory of the district, adopting, however, the fanciful name of Isis for the upper part of the river. He says : — " But, Cotswold, be this spoke to th' only praise of tliee, Tliat thou, of aU the rest, the chosen soyle shonld'st bee, Dame Isis to bring forth (the mother of great Thames), With whose delicious brooks, by whose immortal streams, Her greatnesse is begun : so that our river's king, When he his long descent shall from his Bel-sires bring. Must needs, great pastm-e's prince, derive his stem by thee From kingly Cotswold's selfe, sprung of the third degree- As the old world's hero's wont, that in the times of yore. On Neptune, Jove, and Mars, themselves so highly bore." Poetry and prose have laboured from age to age to describe the pictorial beauty and the moral power of what may be termed the " church -landscape" of England; yet no description can adequately convey an idea of its " pleasantness," or of its elevating influence over a " people." The first sight of the spire of his native village after years, long years of wandering, has shaken many a high and firm heart ; and tears of repentance, and hope, and good resolves, have been often called forth from comparatively hardened sinners by a sound of the church- bell — first heard in the days of innocence and youth. There can be no loneliness, even in imagination, equal to that which the poet pictures in " Juan Fernandez :" — " But the sound of the church-going bell These valleys and rocks never heard ; Never sigh'd at the sound of a knell. Or smiled when a sabbath appear'd." In foreign countries, the richly-elaborated cathedral in the great square commands our admiration ; but what can we say of the meagre -looking church, with its few trees, its rampant weeds, its neglected graveyard, its dreary interior, its dismal pictures and painted effigies, making sometimes a feature in the scenery — but how rarely, as with us, being the sentiment, the centre, the crown and beauty of a whole ? Whatever may be our feelings on certain points — vnih which this, our chronicle of the royal English river, has happily nothing whatever to do — we 13 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. cannot withhold our tribute of gratitude to the spirit that has rightly restored and fitly adorned so many of our parish churches, whether in the crowded city, in the village, or amid the genial solitudes of our country. Standing beside the cradle of mighty Thames, and looking forth upon a landscape wealthy in the gifts of tranquillity and hope, and in the varied beauty of sunshine and shade, there rises the tower of the village -church — the Church of Cotes."^ Solemn and yet pleasing associations crowd upon us ; for centuries it has been the beacon to THE CHURCH AND VILLAGE OF COTES. thousands whose graves are at its base, — they may not have been " village Hampdens," but they have fulfilled the mission allotted to them by Providence, and sleep — these " Rude forefatliors of the hamlet"— beside the homes in which they lived, and under the shadow of the * The cut exhibits the Church of Cotes on the rising hill in the distance : to prevent any erroneous mpression of our pictured scene, it is necessary to remind the reader that the stream is not the Thames, but the Thames and Severn Canal, which is upon a raised embankment, above Ewen field. The source of the Thames lies in that field to the left, amid the trees that hang over the stone wall bounding the towing-path. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 13 church in which they prayed. "What scenes of love and life, of joy and sorrow, have alternated here — come and gone I — as time ceaselessly passed onward ! Generations after generations have seen the soft cheeks of youth wither into the wTinkles of age, and the step so light and elastic over moss and harehell, become slow and heavy, then feeble and uncertain, tottering at last from the supporting crutch into the quiet grave ! Surely are those village spires the lights of our land : come and gone ! come and gone ! are all around ; yet ever enduring, ever inviting, ever rewarding, they continue ! Age after age passes, their peaceful bells are heard above the " crash of empires ;" while fears of change alarm the world, " perplexing monarchs," they discharge their mighty yet simple task — " Invite to heaven, and point the way." A walk along the first meadow brings us to the great Bath Road, under which there is a tunxel formed to give passage to the Thames TUE FIRST TCNNEL. when " the waters are out." In June it was dry, sheep were feeding at its entrance ; but in winter it is too narrow for the rush of the stream that has then gathered in force. 14 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. Close by this tunnel, and about half a mile from Thames Head, is the engine-house of the Thames and Severn Canal, which, by continual working to supply water to the canal, drains all the adjacent springs, and is no doubt the main cause of absorbing the spring -head of the river. This engine-house is an ungainly structure, which the lover of the picturesque may well wish away ; but although a blot upon the landscape, it is happily hidden from the valley in which the Thames has its birth. The course of this canal we shall describe when we reach its terminus at Lechlade. Half a mile further, perhaps, and the burns begin to gather into a common channel ; little trickling rills, clear as crystal, rippling by hedge-sides, make their way among sedges, the water-plants appear, and the Thames assumes the aspect of a perennial stream : so it runs on its course, and brings us to the village of Kemble, which occupies a hillock about half a mile from the bank ; its church -spire, forming a charming feature in the landscape, standing on a gentle acclivity, and rising above a bower of trees ; — the railroad is previously encountered, the river flowing underneath. This church we shall visit before we resume our tour. At that part of the field where the railway-arch crosses the Thames, a cemetery of the early Saxon settlers was discovered in 1855. There were found spear -heads and fragments of shields, hair-pins, brooches, and rings, indicating the last resting-places of the warriors and ladies of that powerful race, destined lords of the future greatness of England, though at this time the hated interlopers amid the old Britannic settlements. The' district was the stronghold of British and Eoman rule, and coins of the successful usurper, Cavausius, were found mingled with the Saxon relics exhumed. The earliest mention of this parish is in the charters of the Anglo- Saxon kings f- it is also mentioned in that most venerable record of our country, the " Domesday Book" — the inventory of England made for William the Conqueror, In both it is named Kemele — sufficiently close * The earliest is printed by Kemble in his " Codex Diplomaticus ;" it is a charter of Caedwealha of Wessex, bearing date a.d. 682. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 15 to the familiar pronunciation of its name adopted by tlie country-folks of the present day. The monks of Malmesbury were possessed of this rich manor in the olden time, it being about six miles from their chief seat. The church is a large structure, still preserv- ing many features of remote antiquity, but they occur only in that fragmentary form which too frequently charac- terizes such relics. The parts which first strike the eye are of early English architecture,"' the best portion being the large porch we have pic- tured, which, however, forms a case, or shrine, to the Nor- man door, with its chevron ornament decorating the arch. At a little distance from the church are the remains of * Mr. Akerman, secretary to the Society of Antiquaries, read at one of the meetings a paper which contained some interesting and valuable information on this subject: — "Mr. Akerman discovered two Anglo-Saxon cemeteries in the village of Kemble, and this had led him to attempt the identification of tlie land limits, mentioned in grants of Ewen and Kemble to the Abbey of Malmesbury, by the Anglo- Saxon kings. His researches have been amply repaid, and he exhibited a map of the district, upon which he had marked the ancient and modern names. Among these is the spring known as 'Thames Head,' or the source of the Thames, and the ' hoar stone,' mentioned in the charter of King^iEthelstan, as standing near it. This object has hitherto escaped the notice of topographers and tourists, owing probably to its being concealed from the view of persons who pass along the Roman Fossway. Our brethren on the other side of the Atlantic recognise the charms in our local epithets. ' The names are excellent,' observes an American essayist ; ' an atmosphere of legendary melody spreads over the land.' In early times there was a chapel at Ewen, but it appears to have been demolished when the church of Kemble was built, as the north side of that edifice is still called ' Ewen Aisle.' The locality of Kemble, its springs, and its lofty situation, favour the inference that it was an early Saxon settle- ment, and the scene of the peculiar sacrificial rites of that race. The di>covery of two distinct burial- places of people who had not abandoned the pagan mode of sepulture favours this inference." A tradition exists in the neighbourhood, that the " chapel " referred to by Mr. Akerman was destroyed beyond the memory of man, and that the materials contributed to form the south aisle of Kemble Church, which is still called "the Ewen Aisle." Near it rises a most beautiful spring of water. Here, doubtless, was celebrated the heathen rites of the first Anglo-Saxon settlers, until the Christian priest- hood consecrated the spot, when a chapel was founded, and the spring dedicated to a saint. 16 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES, a grove or wood, mentioned in the early charters we have just named. It was probably the sacred grove of our heathen Saxon forefathers, and the scene of human sacrifices to Woden. This grove probably extended as far as the village of Poole, where the remains of a cross stand at the intersection of the roads ; though comparatively modern, it probably succeeded a more ancient erection, which obliterated while it interdicted the observance of unhallowed rites. The water-foliage here commences to encroach upon the stream, giving to it interest and beauty, transparency and health. Among the earliest of the aqueous plants — and that which is seldom out of sight until the Thames loses somewhat of its purity — is the water Crow- foot [Ranuncuhis aquatilis), the large white flowers of which rise in sparkling profusion above the surface ; and at this point the curious variety in the floating and submerged leaves is very apparent — the former being broadly lobed, while the latter are cut into minute thread-like divisions, somewhat resem- bling the leaves of fennel, as shown in the accompanying figure. Further down the river, where the stream acquires increased depth and velocity, the plant assumes a different cha- racter-^the flat leaves entirely disappear, both stems and leaves being drawn out by the current into mere bundles of cords, often of great length ; in this case the flowers are only produced at occasional intervals. Resuming our walk by the river-bank, we reach The First Bridge which crosses the Thames — all previous passages having been made by stepping-stones, laid across in winter and removed in summer. This bridge, which leads from the viUage of Kemble to that of Ewen, is level with the road, the river flowing through three narrow arches ; it is without parapet. Hence, along the banks for a considerable distance, there is no foot-path of any kind ; the traveUer who would explore its WATER CROWFOOT. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 17 course must cross hedges and ditches, and avoid the main road to Ewen — au assemblage of cottages and farm-houses. And a delicious walk it was, to us, beside the river, — pleasure being augmented by difficulties in the way; the birds were singing blithely in small wood -tufts ; the chirp of the grasshopper was gleeful in the meadows ; cattle ruminated, standing knee-deep in adjacent pools; the bee was busy among the THE FIRST BRIDGE ON THE THAMES. clover, and, ever and anon, darted across the stream the rapid king- fisher, the sun gleaming upon his garb of brilliant hues. " The sofily-warbled song Comes from the pleasant woods, and coloured wings Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along The forest openings." Perched on an overhanging branch, the Kingfisher (Alcedo Ispida) quietly surveys the motions of his finny prey in the stream beneath, waiting with patience the moment for a favourable plunge ; down then descends, " like an arrow," the glittering bird, and in an instant he is on his perch again, bearing the fish in his beak ; quieting his prey by a few smart raps against the branch, it soon, vanishes dowTi his capacious throat.* * A few years ago we had the satisfaction to find that which is seldom found— a kingfisher's nest ; and our pleasure at the discovery was enhanced by our being able to present it to Mr. Jesse, who had VOL. I, D 18 THE BOOK OF THE THAJMES. The Thames here, " most the poet loves :' its entire loneliness, is precisely that which " The rivulet, delighting in its strength, Ran with a young man's speed." So quiet are its nooks, into which the whirling eddies run, that it would seem a very paradise of the angler ; it is not so, however — bait and fly <.:j-^ will be alike unproductive ^^ ^-^'" here ; although an adventur- ous trout will sometimes make a journey hither, he soon seeks his way back again, for instinct tells him that during the summer months the sources ^-^'Sl^^^ ~^®^.L— 1^ ^^ °^ these pleasant streams are \r ,^f^wliNfe>r^«"^'^Jir^ dry. There are no fish to be found, therefore, except the stickleback and minnow; and these may be properly introduced here as the river's '^^"^ earliest produce of animated THE KJNGFISHEIi. ,.„ life. The Minnow {Leuciscus jjlioxinus), called also the Minim and the Pmk, is one of the smallest of fresh -water fish, rarely exceeding three inches in length, and not often above two ; it is common in rivers and never until then seen one. The place of incubation is a burrow in the river-bank, two or three feet in extent, bearing diagonally upwards, at the end of which is a little chamber, in which, without making any nest, the female deposits from five to seven eggs, of a clear pinky white. The female, while sittmg, IS supplied by her mate with fish, the indigestible parts of which, the bones and scales, are isgorged, so that the eggs are soon surrounded by a circle of these rejectanea, giving rise to the erroneous supposition that the nest is composed of fishbones. The bones, however, assume a compact Character, and are arranged in a concave form ; they become so closely knit by pressure as to be easily removed in the mass. The colouring of this beautiful bird is as follows :— Bill blackish brown, reddish at tne base; behind each eye is a patch of light orange-brown, succeeded by a white one. From each corner ol he under mandible proceeds a streak of verditer-blue, tinged with verdigris-green ; crown of ine nead deep olive-green, the feathers tipped with verdigris-green ; down the back is a stripe of verditer Diue leauiers, tinged in some shades with verdigris-green; chin and throat yellowish-white ; breast and r.l • . °'"f"5f-''™"'»5 tail greenish blue; the feather-shafts black; legs pale tile-red. Length seven inches ; thick and compact body, large head ; the bill long, straight, and sharp. THE BOOK OP THE THAMES. 19 streams, preferring gravelly bottoms, and usually swimming in shoals ; it lives on aquatic plants, worms, and small portions of any animal substance. The top of the head and back are of a dusky olive, the belly white, and in summer of a rosy or pink tint, whence one of the names by which it is known ; its fins are of pale brown. It is a grace- fully-formed and remarkably active fish, and feeds greedily — as the Thames angler well knows, for in fishing for gudgeon he is frequently compelled to leave " the pitch," because the minnows take the bait every time it is let down. We have the ai;thority of Izaak Walton for believing that " being fried with yolks of eggs, the flowers of cowslips and of primroses, and a little tansie, they make a dainty dish." THE MljraOW AND bTICKLLBACK. The Stickleback (Gasterosteus leiurus), the common or rough -backed stickleback (for there are several varieties, distinguished by the number of spines, the common being the three -spined), is found in all our rivers ponds, lakes, brooks, and canals, and inhabits both salt and fresh-water. They are active and peculiarly pugnacious — fighting for supremacy as fiercely as game-cocks, and rarely terminating a duel till one of the combatants is either slain or has made off rapidly. They are seldom longer than three inches, and not often so long. The fish derives its name from the sharpness of its spines ; its body is without scales ; the colour of the back is green ; the cheeks, sides, and belly, are of silvery 20 THE BOOK OP THE THAMES. white ; " the sides are defended throughout their whole length by a series of elongated bony plates, arranged vertically ; a small fold of skin forms a horizontal crest on each side of the tail." If this little creature, pugnacious, ravenous, with natural armour offensive and defensive, were of size proportionate to his vigour and power, he would soon depopulate the stream, of which he would be the despot. Old Izaak says of this little fish, " I know not where he dwells in winter, nor what he is good for in summer." A curious and very interesting statement, however, printed by Mr. Warington, exhibits the stickleback as a devoted hus- band and father, constantly protecting his mate and her progeny, and actually building a nest for her comfort and accommodation — a pecu- liarity which distinguishes him from all others of the " finny tribe." * Among the many agreeable sights presented by the river " here- abouts" are large wooden tanks, formed to aid the annual process of sheep -washing; these are for the most part situate in sequestered nooks, and are usually connected with the opposite shore by rustic bridges, composed of large branches of trees, with a sort of hand-rail to conduct the wayfarer across. It is rarely we can tread these sohtary paths without the occurrence of some simple incident worthy of record for those who love nature. We seek it sometimes, but often it comes when least looked for and expected. While our artist was sketching this rustic bridge a little lad bounded from the thicket, and danced along the plank until he reached the opposite bank ; then, pausing, he shouted, " Emmy, come, Emmy ; * " The day after they had been placed in their new domain, the strongest of the male fish was obsen'ed most busily employed gathering small ligneous fibres, and carrying them in its mouth to one particular spot, where he appeared to force them into the sand and gravel with his nose. Being perfectly unacquainted at the time with the fact of this little creature building a nest, I watched him more attentively. He had selected a spot behind a piece of rock-work, almost hidden from view; but on looking down from the top of the water I could perceive that he had already constructed a small hole as round as a ring, and with a good broad margin to it, formed of the materials he had been so industriously collecting, and on which he ajipeared to have placed numerous particles of sand and small pebbles. This spot he guarded with the utmost jealousy, continually starting forth from his poMtion and attacking the other fish with most extraordinary fury."— ( Vide a paper by Robert Warington, in the " Annals and Magazine of Natural History," October, 1852.) THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 21 now don't be a fool, Emmy ! " While speaking lie returned midway on the bridge, and made a deliberate stand ; a little girl then moved out of the thicket which her brother had quitted at a bound, and cautiously put one foot, and then another, on the quivering jjlank, while the boy see-sawed backward and forward, first on one leg, then on another, to keep up the motion of the bridge. Poor Emmy screamed ; the little fellow repeated, " Come, come at once ; you know you must come — you can't get home unless you do come;" but "Emmy" held fast by the rail, and would not " come." Screaming at every fresh spring of the plank, every second moment the child looked over the bridge, where — " The water-lily to the light Her chalice reared of silver bright," and we saw her little chest heave with suppressed sobs : this was cause for inquiry, " Why will you not cross the bridge, Emmy ? " THE RUSTIC BRIDGE. " I be afeered." " What do you fear, Emmy ? it is quite safe." " Will you take me across ? " — the child looked up with the sweet confidence of childhood on her tear-washed face. " Mother said she was to come over by herself, because it was growing on her," interposed the boy, with the determination of young manhood. 22 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. " What is growing on her ? " " Please, I do try to help it," said the girl, timidly ; " but every time I look over the rail I see it I " "But, Emmy, mother told you not to look over the rail," persisted the boy. " If you'd only give me your hand and walk this side, I couldn't, you know." " Then it grows on you, Emmy, and you'll be a crazy Jane some day — father said so." This brought a fresh gush of tears, more abundant than the last, from Emmy's large blue eyes. " Emmy, what do you see when you look over the rail ? We see the broad green leaves, and white shining cups of the water-lilies, and floating plaits of duck w^eed, and tall waving rushes, and bright little fish darting here and there, their quick eyes turning xipwards as they vanish : you can see nothing else — except, indeed, the dazzling skimmer of the dragon-fly, and the gentle ripple of that little tide-stream, trying to keep its own pathway amid the waters of the Thames — you can see nothing else." The child drew closer, and clenching her little hand over ours, trembhng and white, she whispered — " I see her face down there — down ! " " Mother would be very angry at your telling that nonsense to strangers." " No, not at all angi-y," w^e replied ; " but look steadily, Emmy, there is no face — that is simply a line of sunbeam on the water. Stay — if we throw in this stone, you will see how the rays divide — the sunbeams will dance merrily then." The child shrieked, " No, no, no ! you would hurt her — you would kill her. Oh ! no, no, no — don't ! " We turned to the boy, who looked with softened eyes at his sister — " It's only a notion she has. There, Emmy, they won't thi*ow stones or anything." He was no longer a boy-bully, but a sympathising brother ; he attempted to dry her eyes with the sleeve of his jacket tenderly, even while he told her she ought not to be a fool. " There now, don't cry, and I'll take you over the bridge." The two went on, hand in THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 23 Land, together; but curiosity obliged us to recall the boy; he came, and told lis the cause of his sister's agitation : — " Mother does not know rightly what to do with her ; some says she must be made to cross the bridge, and so get used to it ; others advise sending her away to gran'- mother's for a year or two, till she forgets it. She did so doat on Nanny Green, and took such care of her ! And last winter the two were coming over the bridge from school, as it might be now ; the plank was thick with snow, and slippery : Emmy held Nanny fast, but she was a wild little thing, springing about like a kid, and all at once Nanny slipt in, and we boys behind heard her crash through the ice, but before we got up, Emmy was over after her. We dragged Emmy out all cut and bleeding, but poor Nance was drawn under the ice, and men had to look for her, and at last she was found. I never like to think of it, she was such a fat, merry little thing, and Emmy did love her so ; and she don't understand death, and won't believe she lies under the churchyard grass, because she saw her go under the water ; she won't believe mother no more than she will me ; only everything she sees bright on the water she says is Nanny's face — Nanny's face looking up at her I I wish there was another road to school." Soon after we leave the valley in which the Thames is born, and where its infant wanderings are but promises of strength, the river becomes well defined, and of no inconsiderable breadth and depth ; its waters have gathered force, and are turned to profitable uses. A mile or so of pleasant walk along its banks, and we reach The First Mill on THE Thames — the earliest effort to render it subservient to the wants of man, ministering to industry and producing wealth. The mill is suffi- ciently rude in character to be picturesque : it is in an open court, fronted by an old pigeon -house, and occupied by a pleasant and kindly miller, who reasonably comjtlains that the engine of the canal frequently leaves him without water to move his wheel. He was, however, busy during our visit, and seemed well pleased to aid the artist in his efforts, apparently much interested in the progress of his Avork. While the artist was thus employed, we had leisure to rove about the adjacent meadows, and to examine the numerous wild flowers and water 24 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. plants whicli, in tliis vicinity, assume forms more than usually large. Among the most prominent was the Comfrey {Symphi/tiim officinale), which appears in great abundance on the river-bank, rearing its bold form above the lowlier herbage. When in blossom — every branch decorated with clusters of pendant bell-shaped flowers, varying in every TUE FIRST lULL. shade of colour from white to deep purple — the comfrey is one of the most ornamental among the many floral beauties that grace the water- side ; and it once held a high place in the herbal of our forefathers for its great healing virtues : but its reputation for these qualities, whether deserved or not, has passed away, in common with that of most of our native medicinal herbs, to make way for the drugs of foreign lands, which, if sometimes less efficacious, are at least more novel and costly. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 25 Hence a turn in the road (or through a pleasant meadow, if we prefer to cross it) leads to the village of Somerford Keynes, with its beau- tiful and graceful little church. It _.-; is covered with flowers — roses and honeysuckle intertwined with green ivy — from the base to the roof; and is lovingly cared for by its present incumbent : it is a model of cheerful aspect and simple beauty. It con- sists only of a nave and chancel, with a small side chapel. There is a small piscina by the altar ; but the most curious features within are the fragments of paintings that once de- corated its walls, and portray legend- ary histories of the Romish church. Thus, opposite the door is a gigantic figure of St. Christopher bearing the Saviour across an arm oi the sea, his passage being assisted by the lantern held by a monk. So great a value was attached to the intercession of this saint in former times, that it was believed no peril could happen to him who during the day had offered a prayer before his image. Erasmus alludes to this superstition in his " Praise of Folly." * * His legendary history declares him to have been a pagan giant of evil propensities, who used to destroy travellers by pretending to carry them across a river; but the Saviour appearing to him as a little child, miraculously surprised him by the almost immovable weight he was upon his shoulder. Christopher, astonished, inquired of him the reason, and was answered, " You bear now the whole world, and also its Creator." With much difficulty and fear he crossed the water ; and, being ^" ' "v y/^ j c^ '^f:^ christianised, performed as many good deeds as he had previously done evil. Our little engraving displays the ordinary manner in which this very popu- lar saint was represented by mediaeval artists, who in all instances worked to conventional rule; hence in England or upon the Continent there is a ■^li!/l[\^J)\\ •i-'W V^ complete similarity of treatment for this saintly legend; in the same way ^aiiltf I i., .\ -3s. the Greek Church at the present day preserves in its pictures the conven- tional forms of the tenth century unaltered. We constantly find traces of similar representations of the saint in old English churches ; but in conti- nental ones they abound : nor is it unusual to encounter gigantic statues of him at the gates of cities (as at Treves, on the Moselle), as if to cheer the parting traveller, welcome him home on his return. VOL. I. E 26 THE BOOK or THE THAMES. From the church we traverse the river-bank, again through meadows, until we arrive at a graceful gravel walk overarched by trees, in the grounds of the ancient manor-house ; and soon we reach the village of Asheton Keynes. The river here obtains a picturesque character by being arched over in numerous instances, forming footways to the various pretty cottages that skirt its bank. The church is old, but by no means picturesque — the interior being thoroughly modernized, and thus form- ing a contrast to the Church of Somerford Keynes. There are in this village the sockets of three ancient crosses. THE CHURCH, SOMERFORD KEYNES. Thence our path lay to Waterhay Bridge, and then across several sloping fields laden with corn, from the elevations of which, above the river, are obtained many fine views ; — and so we enter the ancient mar- ket town of Cricklade, in Wiltshire. It presents no feature of interest, except that at the bridge — a new bridge outside the town — the rivers Chum and Key * meet, and mingle their waters with the Thames. Its * The river Rey is of small account, although of some importance as one of the earliest tributaries of the Thames : It rises below Swindon, in Wilts. The Churn, however, demands especial notice. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 27 church-tower is, however, a "landmark" for many miles round. It was a famous town in old times, and is said to have been inhabited by learned monks, from whom it derived its name of Greeklade, corrupted into Creeklade — another fanciful invention of the poets ; and Drayton, following ancient historians, makes this town the predecessor of Oxford, where — " To Great Britain first the sacred Muses sung."' It has two churches, dedicated to St. Sampson and St. Mary ; neither, however, advance any pretensions to architectural grace or beauty. The two Crosses still preserved in Cricklade are unusually fine specimens of those sacred mementoes in England. That in our first engraving now stands beside an avenue of trees in the churchyard of St. Sampson's, but it formerly stood in the High Street of the little town.* The finial has been broken, and the figures which once occupied the canopied niches have disappeared. Our second engraving exhibits the more perfect cross in St. Mary's churchyard, nearer the Thames. This remarkably graceful example has figures of saints in the niches, as well as a repre- sentation of the Crucifixion. Both appear to be works of the fourteenth century — a period when religious foundations flourished. It was at this time the custom in England (as it still is upon the Continent) to erect these sacred emblems not only near churches and in cemeteries, but by the road-side, to aid the devotions of the traveller, or ask his prayers for some other wayfarer who may have met death by accident or vio- lence. They were also occasionally used to mark great events : such were the crosses erected to commemorate the places where the body of Queen Eleanor rested ; or to signify where important battles had been fought. inasmuch as it advances claims to the honour of being the source, and not a tributary, of the great river. It has its rise at " Seven Springs," about three miles south of Cheltenham, and its course is above twenty miles before it loses itself in the Thames — " Thames Head " being not more than ten miles from the junction of the two waters. The Churn has changed its name but little: it is the CAwj/rra of the British, signifying rapid. Drayton calls it "the nimble-footed." It passes through the villages of Cowley, Colesbourne, North Cerney, and Baunton ; then waters Cirencester, passes through Siddington and South Cerney, and so joins the Thames at Cricklade. » It probably occupied the site of the old cross, which is named as boundary mark in the reign of Henry III. 28 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. The town of Cricklade is about ten miles from the source of the Thames. " Thames Head," though in the county of Gloucester, is so near to its southern border that the river, after meandering a mile or two, enters "Wiltshire — the village of Kemble being in that county : and it is in Wiltshire the great river first assumes the character of a perennial stream — for the meadows between that village and the source are, as we have intimated, usually dry during the summer months ; soon, however, the river re-enters its native county, which it con- tinues to fertilize during many an after mile of busy toil and tranquil beauty. Having rested awhile at Crick- lade, we pursue the river on its course, and arrive at Eisey Bridge.* At this bridge the traveller will pause awhile to examine the church, which, standing on a gen- tle acclivity, overlooks the stream, that here assumes a bolder aspect, and is navigable at all seasons for boats of small draught, A mile or two farther along its banks, and we reach Castle Eaton — a village now, but once a place of size and strength : " the grete mines of the Lord Zouche's castelle " exist no more ; but, here and there, some venerable walls bear records of " hoar antiquitie." A school, so aged as to have been the seat of learning of the great-great-grandfathers of the urchins we found within ; and a CnOSS AT CRICKLADE. • The Thames at this part anciently formed the boundary of the old Forest of Braden. It was one of the earliest appanages of the Crown, and was perhaps augmented by Canute, who enacted some severe forest laws for the preservation of the game therein. On the opposite sides the forest extended to Wootton Bassett and Malmcsbury. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 29 church, very old and very curious ; with a pretty bridge, more than sufficient for its traffic, — these are the only points that demand notice in this secluded and most pleasantly situated spot, where the " busy hum " is rarely heard. The church is picturesque, but exceedingly simple in plan, consisting merely of a nave and chancel. The chancel arch is Early English ; but the general structure and the prin- cipal doors are Norman. The walls have recently been deniided of a thick coat of whitewash, and many of the ancient paintings that once covered them are again brought to light. They appear to be works of the fourteenth century, and to illustrate scripture history or saintly legends. The Font is early Eng- lish, with a simple wreath of foliage boldly carved around the basin, which is supported on a central pillar of carved stone. The church has boasted a fine cross at one period, but only the stone grooves now remain. Upon one of the bells is inscribed, "God prosper this place." The Bell-tower is the most remarkable feature of the ex- terior ; it stands upon the junction of the roofs of nave and chancel, and is entirely constructed of thick slabs of stone, the bell swinging on a massive beam withinside. Our readers will have perceived that while we conduct them on their voyage down the Thames, we desire to " gossip " with them now and then, believing that "matters of fact" are rendered more impressive by indulgence in those "fancies" which are suggested by scenes and CROSS AT CRICKLADE. 30 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. incidents described. Our visit to the school at Castle Eaton naturally- suggested a comparison between the venerable adjunct of the village in old times, and that by which it is now-a-days usually "adorned." There are few things so changed in character throughout England, both internally and externally, as its village schools, which, in days not long gone by, were nearest in picturesque effect to the village church — simple, contemplative dwellings, covered with climbers, coroneted with flowers, a many-paned win- dow at either side of the door, which was shaded by a cov- ered porch, sometimes solid and thatched, or else open and matted with woodbine — this terminated the path whose line was carefully marked out, and guarded by a border of thrift or a box edging ; while with- in the sanctuary flourished all kinds of " poseys " — wall- flowers, and stocks, and sweet- williams, and riband -grass, a white rose, and a red rose- bush, and, mayhap, a flaunt- ing York-and -Lancaster, or tower of white lilies — the gift of sweet " Miss Mary," who married, and had children five, and now is in the churchyard underneath a marble tomb ; " herb rosemary " grew there, and woody lavender, and lavender cotton — " The tufted basil, pun-provoking thyme, Fresh baum, and marigold of cheerful hue," and streaky pinks, and rich crimson cloves; and sage (a leaf in tea to make it wholesome), and feathery fennel, and such hot turnip-radishes, and little onions, whose silver bulbs disdained the earth, and shot their waving green and narrow leaves above their heads ; the row of double FONT AT CASTLE EATON. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 31 parsley was a green banquet to the eye ; — all was in harmony with the sweet low-roofed house, from which came the hum of young voices, sometimes low and sweet, sometimes shrill and troubled. The low palings, which divided the garden from the road, were green from age, and had, as it were, taken root and grown their own way, some remain- ing upright in their rectitude of purpose, others, like weak-minded persons, leaning to the right or left, and having no will of their own. Often a blackbird or a thrush hung in a wicker cage beneath the porch ; an old cat on the window-sill winked at the sunbeams ; and beyond, close to the yew hedge, whose centre was clip- ped into some monstrosity called a "peacock," or "flow- er-pot," lay a shelf of bee- hives, more than half con- cealed from public gaze by a row of broad -beans, or blos- soming peas, upon which the bees under the straw thatch came to banquet. Now the school-house is generally a new, clean, trim two-storied house, of no particular order of architecture ; but upon the external ornamentation of which enough has been spent to clothe, as well as educate, a rising generation. Money, it has been said, is not wealth ; neither is size or elaboration beaiity — and as yet our National Schools look hard and dictatorial. When the softening hand of Time passes over those seats of embryo learning — when the bright red brick, or the pure white stone, is toned down by the weather, and ivy and Virginia-creeper clasp the gables, and take off the sharpness of those corners — when, in fact, the new becomes old — the schools of the BELL TOWER, CASTLE EATON. 33 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. present time will better harmonize wdtli the character of our beloved English scenery. But, if the change is so apparent in the schools, what is it in the teachers ? Shenstone has drawn wdth fidelity the picture of the " dame," in the old times of dames' schools — " Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow, Emblem right meet of decency does yield ; Her apron dyed in grain — as blue, I trow. As in the harebell that adorns the field ; And in her hand, for sceptre, she does wield Tway birchen sprays." She was old, and mild but firm ; the nod was her help, the rod was her argument; the shake was her warning, the fool's-cap her disgrace ; a kind smile or word, accompanied by a ginger-bread nut on rare occasions, her reward. We cannot but wonder how those bright, clever-looking women, sent from normal schools to diffuse education in our country parishes, would look in close mob-caps, "whiter than the driven snow," linsey aprons, and " russet stoles and kirtles ! " Alas ! for the back- headed bonnets and gay muslin — or mousseline— dresses, that sweep the school-room floor, and the air of superiority with which our simple questions, born of domestic wants, are often answered — making us sigh for the days when girls were taught by dames to mend stockings, darn invisibly, sew on buttons to remain on, and piece linen or broadcloth so that the rent became a myth. Some twenty summers have come and gone since we were much interested by an aged woman, who for many years had kept a dame's school in a quaint little village not a long way from the Thames — indeed, you could see its placid waters from the school-house door, shining and shimmering through the trees. She was called " Dame Madam," or, sometimes, " Madam " — people said that was not her real name, but the "real name" nobody knew. She combined the calling of nurse with that of schoolmistress ; but she would only engage to " nurse " at night, as nothing could prevail on her to neglect the charge of " her children." The school outside was like a garland, a tangled mass of clematis and all kinds of climbers ; it was built on a knoll facing THE BOOK OP THE THAMES. 33 the south; the ground had never been levelled, so the school-room stood on an inclined plane — the " top " form being considerably elevated over the rest. The dame said that was an advantage, as, her seat being on high ground, she could at a glance overlook every little urchin, creep he where he might. The children, and, indeed, the villagers, held " Dame Madam " in great respect. There had been a rumour, when she first took the little cottage — consisting of two rooms and a shed— a quarter of a century before our acquaintance with her — that she had been "' somebody," who was " whispered about and watched ;" but the rumour faded away. She would rise in the night to attend the sick poor, — if they could pay her, well; if they could not, that was well also ; and the most incorrigible of village children did her bidding without birching. The time of her coming seemed so long past that it had become a legend ; and although her delicate frame was worn and bent, and the dimples round her sweet placid mouth had grown into wrinkles, no one ever thought the time of her going was drawing near. She never had much to give, and yet, when in the summer's evening she sat knitting under her great rose-tree, the labourers or wayfarers never passed her door without a greeting or a blessing. She said she liked that seat in the gloaming, when there was no call for her elsewhere, because she could hear the children's voices, as they played and shouted to each other on the green : one would have thought she had had enough of those "sweet voices" during the day; but no, she would listen and exclaim, "There, that's Jimmy Grey; what lungs he has! and that's Peggy Lloyd ; how she screams — she will hurt herself by screaming ; and that's Bat Thompson's growl — Bat is so like a lion!" The cot- tagers declared that Madam, under the rose-tree, was "quite a picture" ■ — and so she was. Her mob-cap, of spotless white, was tied beneath her chin with a bow of soft white muslin, a white " Kockspun " shawl folded over her bosom, the ends concealed by a white muslin apron ; she wore an open dress of brown stuff, and a quilted black petticoat : there was certainly vanity in those neat-fitting Spanish-leather shoes, peeping out daintily on the straw stool. One thing I had nearly forgotten to mention — the dame always wore a green silk over her eyes, like a pent- VOL. I. F 34 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. house ; so that, between the shade, and the wide border of her mob-cap, and the great soft bow under her chin, you caught only ghmpses of her pale face, except her mouth and the dignified tip of a nose decidedly aquiline ; yet nobody ever heard her complain that she was short- sighted. For some time past Dame Madam felt the " shadow of coming events," which is surely the shadow of an angel's wing ; she became more silent and thoughtful, and the Bible had almost usurped the place of her knitting. Her fame as a nurse continued, and though she was unable to do much, yet the doctor said Dame Madam's head was worth five pair of hands. The first sweet month of summer had passed, the evening of the first of June closed in, and the Dame had vacated her seat under the great rose-tree, and gone into the cottage; the birds had ceased to rustle among the leaves — the stars were made visible by in- creasing darkness — there were bright phosphoric lights glancing over the placid river, giving an almost unearthly interest to the scene ; the ray of Dame Madam's candle threw the shadow of stems, and leaves, and tendrils across the path ; she heard her little gate " click" and open, and a step struck upon the pavement of " pretty stones," which her scholars had laid down, that their beloved Madam's path might be always dry. She closed her Bible, repeating the last words she had read therein — " Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." " Dame Madam," said a rough voice at the window, " a gentleman at the inn be taken bad, and missus says please come up, for doctor wants ye." " Has the gentleman no servant of his own, Giles?" " Yes, his wife and a black-a-moor ; but missus says they be fools — so come up. Madam, you're bad wanted." The dame tied on her black hood, threw her scarlet cloak around her, and, having extinguished her candle, hastened to the inn. She found the poor lady-wife nearly as ill and worn out as the sick gentleman. She prevailed on her to go to bed, received the doctor's instructions, and took her seat by the bed-side. The patient slept; when he awoke, his voice shook the dame as if she had been galvanized, and when he asked her to move his pillows, he thought she would have fallen on the bed. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 35 With trembling hand she gave him his medicine — and then some instinct prompted him to ask her name ; and that told, — as it never had before been told in the village, — it became his turn to tremble. Excited be- yond all power of self-control, he entreated the wife he had mai'ried and abandoned in the days of their youth to have mercy on him. He swore that some years after his desertion he sent from India, and heard she had disappeared, believed her dead, and again married. The dame heard him with seeming calmness ; she had recovered her composure ; she knew his excuses were untrue, but still her heart yearned to the white-headed, attenuated old man who had been the love of her youth. "He would make her rich," he continued, "give her gold"- — anything so she would keep silence, and not destroy the mother of his children, and brand his sons with the name that blanches the cheek of honourable manhood. He would have crawled from the bed to her feet for pardon and mercy if he could. All this time she spoke not. " If their child lived he would provide for it." Then the mother's indignation burst forth ; — if her child had lived, she would have broken her vow of secrecy, and spoken out her honour to the world. No ; her child watched for her in heaven ! The excitement and alarm were more than he could bear ; he lay back gasping on his pillows, face to face with the woman whose peace and happiness he had destroyed ; his hands clasped in supplication ; every limb quivering with strong emotion. The dame withdrew from beneath the folds of her handkerchief — where they had been concealed day and night during years of anguish — the certificate of her marriage, and sundry letters, yellow from age, and spotted with tears ; one by one she opened them, and held them with her small transparent fingers before his bloodshot eyes ; — well he knew them ; and from his parched lips came the prayer, " Mercy, mercy 1 for her and our children ! " but he did not dare again to offer her gold. One by one she held those evidences of his dishonour and of her honour — those treasures of her life — over the candle, and saw them flutter and fall, in dark transparent flakes, upon the snowy sheets. She then drew out a riband, which passed round her neck and throiigh a wedding ring ; she tried to break 36 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. it — it would not yield. The man's heart was touched, — " Noble, gene- rous woman ! " he faltered forth, and tears, hot scalding tears of remorse, if not of penitence, came from his eyes : " Not that — it is enough ! Not that ! " She fell on her knees by his bed-side, and her cheek, if not her lips, was pressed upon those yellow hands ! There were no more words spoken between them ; and when in the grey light of morning the lady, enveloped in her cashmere dressing-gown, stole gently into the room, she thought her husband's fever increased, and the old nurse looking so ill, that she pressed a gold coin into her hand, and entreated her, in a soft low voice, to go home and sleep. When she turned from the bed, a ray of early sunshine was sporting with the coin upon the floor ; and the nurse was gone. What power sustained her trembling steps until she arrived at her fragrant home, where every leaflet bore the wealth of jewels that Nature pours upon the sleeping earth — who can tell ? She never shut the door, but laid her on her bed — and died. The " gentleman " recovered, and, much to the amazement of the village, erected a monument to her memory ; the text upon it is there still — " Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." In the meadows that lead by a somewhat steep ascent to Cricklade, our attention was attracted by a number of bright green insects flitting over the long grass : on capturing one, we recog- nised it as the moth known to entomologists as the Green Forester {Ino statices), by no means a common species in most localities ; but here were thousands, either on the wing or at rest among the grass. The prevailing colour of this pretty moth is a very unusual one among the British lepidoptera — the whole surface, except that of the lower wings, being of a lustrous golden green, while the body glitters like a gem. The caterpillar feeds on the cardamine, dock, and some other semi-aquatic plants which everywhere abound in this humid district ; we may thus account for the great abundance of the moth in this locality. THE GREEN FORESTER. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 37 The perfect transparency of the water, with its uniform shallowness, gives great facility for studying the zoological, as well as the botanical curiosities of this well-stocked aquarium. Several species of fresh- water shells {lymneus, planorhis, &c.) were plying about in great abun- dance on the sandy bed, or adhering to the herbage that fringed the water -side. Again the river flows onward — again waters flat, but fertile fields — again affords a rich supply of water-plants, but undergoes no change of character ; yielding no food for thought until re-entering Gloucester- shire, the county of its birth, it passes under the beautiful church, and washes the foundations of Kempsford — a palace of the Plantagenets long ago. Of this there are some interesting remains, but of the dwell- ing of their Saxon predecessors there exists only a vague tradition, confirmed, however, now and then, by evidence gathered from adjacent earth-mounds. The manor of Kempsford was the property of the great Harold ; the Conqueror gave it to one of his Norman soldiers ; it passed from him to the family of Chaworth ; and from them, by marriage, to Henry Duke of Lancaster, who, in the year 1355, presented it to "the Church;" at the Dissolution, the crown granted it to the Thynnes, ancestors of the marquises of Bath ; by whom it was sold to Lord Coleraine,* whose tomb is in the church ; by him the ancient mansion, erected by Sir Thomas Thynne in the reign of James I. (a quadrangular structure of large dimensions, of which two engravings exist), was dismantled and sold for the value of the materials, the trees were cut dowoi, and a host of " fair memories " destroyed by the recklessness of one bad man. The place is, notwithstanding, full of rare associations ; the foundations of the castle may yet be traced, the battlements being in some places unbroken. The church is a noble structure, remarkable for the grand windows which light the junction of nave and chancel, and above which rises the * Better known as Colonel Hanger, and an Intimate associate of George IV. when Prince of Wales. The marble tomb in which he is placed was brought from Rome, and his coffin is placed above ground within it. 38 THE BOOK OP THE THAMES. tower. It was chiefly erected in the fourteenth century, at the ex- pense of Henry Duke of Lancaster, whose arms, and those of other noble famihes, are conspicuously displayed amid the spandrels within. There are many fragments of fine painted glass in the windows, one of the most perfect delineating St. Anne teaching the Virgin to read. There is also a characteristic altar-tomb of a priest in the chancel, upon which IR CHURCH AT KEMPSFORD : AND THE GUNNER'S ROOM. is sculptured the Rood, and the Virgin in glory ; but they have been grievously injured by the hands of iconoclasts. The floor is remarkable for its early English tiles, and the roof for its timber-work. The porch is Early English, forming a framework for the earlier Norman door within it. The vicar's garden, adjoining, was originally known as the Provost's Garden (probably the garden of the provost-marshal), and, until the THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 39 year 1800, the road went to the ford across it. The level field on the opposite side is still known as " the Butts," * and marks the site of the ground appropriated to the military exercises of the soldiery who once garrisoned the castle. " The Butts " were mounds of earth, marked with a ring like a target, and were used in practising archery. A strong arrow with a broad feather was necessary to be used ; such bows and arrows as gave " immortal fame " to the archers of the English army at Crecy and at Poictiers. Of the castle itself but a few fragmentary walls remain, and a portion of a tower, which is traditionally known as " the Gunner's Eoom." The windows command the river, and the embrasures defend the castle at an exposed angle, which seems to have received an additional amount of attention from the architect. The walls are very massive, and now afford abundant room for wild plants and bushes, overshadowed by patrician trees. We may almost imagine we are in the gloomy room of him who guarded the approaches in days long past, when security depended more upon stone walls than on " even-handed justice." A horse -shoe nailed to the church-door continues to sustain the legend that when Henry Duke of Lancaster was quitting it for ever, his steed cast a shoe, which the villagers retained as a memorial, and placed where it is found to-day. However much we may lament over scenes of gran- deur passed away, it is a rare consolation to see the church, the rectory, the grounds, and the whole neighbourhood kindly thought of, and well * Butts, or " dead-marks," as they were sometimes called, were embankments of earth having marks, or " bull's eyes," upon the flat face, for practising soldiers in archery. They were in constant use in the middle ages, and erected near great towns, or where soldiers were sta- tioned— hence the constant occurrence of the term " Butts," appended to names of ^^^jr^^ ■^, ^- U 1 ^k^^^j^as streets and places near old cities. One ^!!/'\ /T^JCv \ of the most ancient pictures of the exer- ^^^ \ // ^*A_ . cise is copied on a reduced scale In our woodcut. The original is a drawing in the l^JYVI VriV "^ famous psalter executed for Sir Geoffrey Louterell, who died in 1345. It exhibits an archer aiming at the butts, his arrow drawn to the head ; several others are stuck in his girdle. His companion points triumphantly to an arrow fixed in the bull's-eye, and awaits the prowess of Ids companion previous to trying again, for which purpose he already holds his bow and arrow. 40 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. cared for, by the incumbent, wbo preserves what time has left, and restores where restoration is desirable. A few miles further, but with little to detain the traveller, — unless he linger awhile at Hannington Bridge, and hence obtain a view of the distant church of Highworth, — and we approach Lechlade ; but, within a mile or so of the town, we pause at a place of much interest ; for here the Coin contributes its waters to the Thames, and here termi- nates that gigantic undertaking — the canal which unites the Severn with the Thames, and which, when steam was thought to be a day-dream of insanity, poured the wealth of many rich districts into the channel that carried it through London to the world. The Coin — a river which the angler loves, for its yield of trout is abundant — rises near Withington, in Gloucestershire, and, passing by Foss Bridge, Bibury, Coin St, Aldwin, and Fairford — a town rendered famous by the painted windows in its church * — runs its course of twenty -three miles, and finishes by joining the Thames at the place we have pictured, the terminus of the canal being close to " the meeting." The nearest village, that of Inglesham, has a very ancient church, small and rude in character, and strangely isolated in position, being at a considerable distance from any cluster of houses. It consists of a simple nave and chancel, a bell-tower crowning the roof, somewhat similar to that we have already pictured at Castle Eaton. Beside the porch there is inserted in the wall the very curious piece of scidpture we here engrave. It represents the Virgin seated, and holding in her lap the Infant Saviour, who rests his left hand upon a book, while his right is extended, giving the benediction, as still practised in the Latin church. A similar benediction is given by a hand above, which is evidently intended for that of the first person of the Trinity. It is surprising * Fairford is but three miles from Lechlade, and will amply repay a visit. The windows are in number twenty -eight, and are said to have been painted from the designs of Albert Durer ; they are certainly of his period, and are not unworthy of so illustrious a parentage. They are all allegoric, the more remarkable of them exhibiting the persecutors of the Church, surmounted by daemons ; and its upholders and protectors associating with angels. Although some of them are much injured, chiefly by hail-storms, they are for the most part in a good state of preservation. The history of these windows is curious : a sea-captain, named Tame, took them on one of his piratical voyages, and, his conscience not permitting their personal appropriation, he built this church for their reception. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 41 how this sculpture (which may be a work of the thirteenth century, or earlier) has escaped the destruction to which so many monuments of early faith have been subjected ; but it is worthy of observation that these old villages on the Thames banks retain many vestiges of a past age still unmolested : thus the steps and shaft of an old stone cross stand close to the porch at Inglesham, and we have already noted several such relics of the Romish faith in the earlier part of our tour. The Thames and Severn Canal was commenced in 1782, and opened in 1789 ; but, so far back as the time of Charles II., the scheme of thus uniting the two great rivers of Eng- land had been entertained ; and Pope mentions that to effect this object was a cherished thought of Lord Bathurst, " when he had finer dreams than ordinary." In 1782 Mr. Robert Whitworth, an eminent engineer, " formed plans and estimates," and, in the following year, an act was passed for carrying them into operation ; it was completed within seven years, the first boat passing through on the 19th of November, 1789, " This navigable canal [we quote from Boydell] begins at Wallbridge, Avhere the Stroud navigation ends, and proceeds to the immediate vicinity of Lechlade, where it joins the Thames, taldng a course of thirty miles seven chains and a half. From Stroud to Sapperton com- prehends a length of seven miles and three furlongs, with a rise of two hundred and forty-one feet three inches ; from Sapperton to Upper Siddington, including the branch to Cirencester, nine miles eight chains and a half, and is perfectly level ; and from Upper Siddington to the Thames near Lechlade. it continues a course of thirteen miles four fur- VOL. I. G 'M^ P CARVED aiONli AT INGLESHAM. 42 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. longs and nine chains, with a fall of one hundred and thirty feet six inches ; the general breadth of the canal is forty -two feet at the top, and thirty feet at the bottom." " The Round House," — for so the lock-house is named from its form, — the lock, and the two rivers, at their " meeting," are pictured in the appended cut. JO.\CTION OF THE THAMES, THE COLN, AND TUB CANAL. Wc have now arrived at that point in the Thames where it becomes navigable for boats of burthen ; the canal conveys in barges, each from thirty to sixty tons, the produce of the four quarters of the globe into several parts of England ; the port of Bristol is thus united with that of London ; other canals are combined with this : and so an internal com- munication was formed, tbe value of which may be readily estimated before the introduction of steam. But the railways have placed this mode of traffic almost in abeyance, — the canals arc comparatively idle, and ere long, perhaps, will be altogether deserted. The passage of a THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 43 boat through the lock is now au event of rare occurrence : it is seldom opened more than once or twice in a week. Greater speed is obtained by the railway, of course, but the chief impediment arises from the cost incurred in passing through the locks and weirs along the Thames, — strange as it may seem, the expense hence arising to a laden boat of sixty tons burthen, between Teddington, where the locks begin, and Lechlade, where they terminate, is not less than thirty pounds. The natural consequence is, that steam absorbs all the traffic, except to places remote from stations ; and then boats are in use only for heavy cargoes, chiefly timber and coal. The barges here used are necessarily long and narrow, — the appended engraving will convey an accurate notion of their form ; — they are generally drawn up the river by two horses, and THE BAKLiE. down the river by one, along the " towing-path " — a footpath by the river-side. The towing-paths between Lechlade and Oxford, in conse- quence of the causes we have observed upon, are so little disturbed as to be scarcely perceptible : they are for the most part so " grass- o'ergrown " as to be distinguished from the meadow only after a careful search. Indeed, all along the Thames bank to Lechlade, and much lower, almost until we approach Oxford, there is everywhere a singular and impressive solitude : of traffic there is little or none ; the fields are almost exclusively pasture-land ; the villages are usually distant ; of gentlemen's seats there are few, and these are generally afar off; the mills are principally situated on " back-water;" and but for the pleasant 44 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. cottages, nearly all of wMcli are peasant hostelries, which, in their immediate relation to the locks and weirs, necessarily stand on the river- bank, with now and then a ferry -house, the whole of the landscape for nearly forty miles from the river -source would seem as completely denuded of population as an African desert. Between Kemble and Lechlade we did not meet two boats of any kind, and only at the lock- houses did we encounter a dozen people — except at the few villages of which we have taken note. This loneliness has its peculiar charm to the wayfarer ; — it will be long ere we lose remembrance of the enjoyment we derived from a reflective saunter beside the banks of the grand old river, where solitude invites to thought — " The blackbird's note comes mellower from the dale, And sweeter from the sky the gladsome lark Warbles his heaven-tuned song." The moorhen revels here in security, for it is her own domain, — if a footstep shake the shelving bank, it is that of a peasant, of whom the shy bird has no fear. It was a rare pleasure to note this liveliest of all our water -fowl darting from side to side, or plunging midway in the channels, to rise in still greater security among the reeds and rushes farther off. The Moorhen {Gallinula chloropus) is commonly seen not far from its reedy haunts, swimming along with a peculiar nodding motion of the head, and picking up its food first on one side and then on the other. It feeds generally on aquatic plants, insects, and small fishes. Mr. Selby mentions that he has freqixently known this bird to have been taken on a line baited with an earth-worm, intended for catching eels or trout, — from which he infers that it is by diving it obtains the larger water beetles and the larvae of dragon -flies, &c., upon which it is known to feed. Shenstone refers to the recluse habits of the moorhen^ and its frequent associate, the coot, — " To lurk the lake beside, Where coots in rushy dingles hide. And moorcocks shun the day." The colouring of the moorhen, quoting from Yarrell, is as follows : — " The beak yellowish-green ; the base of it, and patch on the forehead, THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 45 red; eyes reddish -hazel; the back, wings, and tail, rich, dark olive- brown ; head, neck, breast, and sides, uniform dark slate -grey ; under tail-coverts white ; legs and toes green, with a garter of red above the tarsal joint. Contrary to the almost universal rule among birds, the female is frequently more richly coloured than the male. The length of the moorhen is usually about thirteen inches." We are, however, now at Lechlade, where the Thames is a navigable river, and a sense of loneliness in some degree ceases ; — effectually so, as far as Lechlade is con- cerned, for, as the reader will perceive, its aspect is an anti- dote to gloom. Lechlade is a very ancient town. It de- rives its name from a small river that joins the Thames about a mile below its bridge. The Lech is little more than a streamlet, rising in the parish of Hampnot, in the Cotswold district, and passing by Northleach and Eastleach. The proofs of its antiquity are now limited to its fair and interesting church, dedicated to St. Laurence. It is very plain with- inside, but stately-looking. It contains no ol<l monuments, with the exception of a brass of a gentleman and lady of the time of Henry VL, and another of a man of the time of Henry VII, Close to the north porch is an interesting relic of the olden time — " a penance stone," on which formerly offenders against the discipline of the church stood enshrouded in a white sheet to do penance. The spire is a pleasant landmark all about. It is now, as it was when Leland wrote, two hundred years ago, " a praty old toune," where those who love quiet may be happy. It is clean and neat, and has a well-ordered inn, where THE MOORHEN. 46 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. a " neat-lianded Phillis " strives to make the way -worn traveller at ease and in comfort. The priory of " Blake Chanons, at the very end of St. John's Bridge," is gone ; of " the chapelle in a medow " no stone remains ; the bold barons — from Baron Siward, who slew Tofte, Earl of Huntingdon, to Ferrers, Earl of Derby, and Roger Mortimer, the Talbots, Spensers, and Hollands — who once lorded over the district, are LECULADE BUIDGE AND CHUBCU. forgotten there ; but the Thames still rolls its waters round the town, and blesses a generation to whom rumours of war are but far-off sounds — " All glory to the stern old times, But leave them to their minstrel rhymes." A mile from the town — much less to the pedestrian — and another and much older bridge is reached — St. John's Bridge, beside which is " The Angler's Inn ;" and here " a hop, step, and jump " will lead from Gloucester into Berkshire, and from Berkshire into Oxfordshire. But bridges arc now becoming numerous. It is here we first meet a point of greater interest — The First Lock on the river Thames, It is rude THE BOOK OP THE THAMES. 47 enough to be picturesque. This lock occurs, however, in a back-water, or rather an artificial cut, the naain branch of the river flowing through the arches of St. John's Bridge, and passing the village of Buscot, where is found the first example of the lock and weir in combination. Buscot has a very plain old church, Avith no other feature to notice but a Norman chancel arch. The vicarage is a large mansion of the time of William III., and the garden has cut trees and fir bowers in the semi-Dutch taste of that era. We continue our voyage to the pretty villages of Kelmscott and Eaton Hastings, and continue still by the river-side, by green meadows, which, in their solitude, seem to pi'Ogress THE FIRST LOCK. unaided by the art of man. Kelmscott has a small cruciform church. The arches, which occupy the centre, are supported by early foliated capitals. In the chancel window is an old piece of painted glass, repre- senting St. George and the Dragon. It may be of the time of Edward III. Eaton Hastings church is a mile and a half from the weir. It con- sists of a plain nave and chancel, without a tower, and is situated on a slight eminence. The scenery around is picturesque, and most per- fectly pastoi'al. At Buscot " the river quits the open meads for a more secluded progress, and, having been from Inglesham a boundary of Berkshire, it now leaves for ever its native Gloucestershire, and becrins 48 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. to mark the limits of tlie county of Oxford." Gur next point of interest is a venerable relic of antiquity — Eadcot Bridge. This bridge, built entirely of stone, is one of the oldest on the Thames, bearing unmis- takeable marks of early construction. The arches are ribbed internally ; the ascent is very steep ; and over the centre arch is the socket of a cross which once towered above the primitive structure, in accordance with the old custom which invested bridges witli a sacred character, and beside, or upon which, it was once usual to construct wayside chapels, for the purpose of affording the weary traveller repose while performing his relicrious duties. .AMI < fJ KADCOT BKlLi The towing-path, which keeps on the Gloucestershire side to l»adcot Bridge, now crosses the bridge to the Berkshire side of the stream, w'hich here divides, and forms an island. We have leisure, however, just now to ask the reader's attention to circumstances and objects that will have occurred to him, or have been presented to him on his journey. After ])assing Tjcchladc, thousands of glittering Dragon -flies, of the species figured {Calcpterijx vlrgo), kept up an incessant fluttering over the water-side herbage. Their graceful THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 49 and rapid movements, with the metallic brilliancy of tlieir green and azure colouring, gave an luiwonted vivacity to the scene. It is to these insects, the demoiselles of the French, that Moore alludes— though in reference to a far different scene — " Chasing -n-itli eager hands and eyes The beautiful blue damsel-llies, That flutter'd round the jasmine steins, Like winged flowers or flying gems." The Pike {Esox Lucius) is ahundant in this neighbour- liood, and the troller may have ample sport. It is the wolf of pond, lake, and river ; and any mode by which he can be taken is considered right. The long- est lived of all the fish of fresh- water, he is the largest and the most ravenous, growing ■1 HI 11 A N ^ sometimes to enormous size — often to fifty, sixty, or seventy pounds ; in the Thames, we believe, none have been caught of greater weight than thirty-five pounds. The body of the pike is elongated, nearly uniform in depth from the head to the commencement of the dorsal fin, then becoming narrower ; "the head is elongated, depressed, wide;" the colour dusky olive- brown, lighter and mottled with green and yellow on the sides, and passing into silvery white on the belly. The angler takes this fish by trolling; but sometimes also with '"live bait;" in the latter case a giidgeon, a small dace, or, better stdl, a small trout, is })iaced on a double hook ; the pike seizes it sideways between his jaws, and makes off to his lair : time must be given him to " gorge" it before the strike. But trolling is the more common pi-actice, on the Thames especially ; in this case, a dead fish is impaled on a '" trace" of hooks — i. e. six hooks so arranged as to embrace the bait from the head to the tail, the mount VOL. L H 50 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. being gimp wire, for gut would be instantly snapt in twain — nay, it is bv no means rare for tbe pike to snap the gimp asunder, and make off with the six hooks ; but so voracious is the fish, and so insensible to pain, that frequently another trace of hooks Avill be immediately taken by it, and the lost trace be thus recovered. We have known instances in which two traces have been thus expended, a third being successful. AVhen the troller sets to work, he usually lets his boat glide gently with the tide, or impels it very gradually ; the bait having been dropt overboard, is drawn quietly through the water at a distance of between fifteen and twenty yards. When the pike is THE riKE. hooked, and the angler has what is called '' a run," it is nut easily taken, but makes a bold struggle for life. The trace of hooks must, however, be mounted ^^ ith a swivel, in order that, l)y frequently turn- ing in the water, it may more nearly imitate tlic motions of the living fish ; artificial, or imitation fish, are in frequent use, and are of very ingenious make — they are sometimes good substitutes, but anglers avcU know that the actual fish is fJie thing. Uidcss a breeze ruffles the surfafe of the water there is but little chance of a run. The ]uke is also called tlie luce it is the lueie of heraldrv), and in Scotland its name is the (/><I(/. The ']i\rk is, )ii-o])erly, a young jiike. The ])ike is a THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 51 solitary fish. — even, two of iliem. are rarely seen together; his i\sual haunt is a dark and comparatively still nook, thick with rushes or close water-plants ; here he remains, seldom moving an incli until his eye fixes on his prey, Avhen a sudden rush is made, and hack again to consume it at ease and leisure. Some startling anecdotes are told of his voracity — he will swallow a fish of nearly his own weight. The pike is said to be a good fish for eating, and many are fond of it ; the flesh is certainly hard and sound ; much, however, depends ui:ion the skill of the cook — old Izaak gives a receipt for its dress- ing, which he says " makes a dish of meat too good for any hut anglers or very honest men." We have delayed the tourist too long. At liadcot Bridge he has a view on the right of Faring- don Hill, and on the left of B.\MPTON Cncnni srir.i: ; cither place may lure him awhile fruui the river-bank — each being dis- tant betw^een one and two miles. The wood -crowned heights above Faringdon have, indeed, been plea- santly in our sight for a long time along our course. Faringdon is well entitled to a jDilgrimage ; although the house is gone which so bravely withstood the army of Cromwell, when the assailants were led to the attack by the owner of the mansion himself — Sir Tiobert Pye, who had married a daughter of the patriot, John Hampden. Of a. far older castle, which '' the favourers THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. of Empress Matilda erected, and King Stephen pull'd down;' there remains nothing Imt tradition. There sleeps, however, in the village church a Lrave knight, whom England chronicles among the worthiest of her worthies— that Sir Edward Unton, who, wliWc Queen Elizaheth's ambassador to Erance, upheld her honour and that of his c(mntry by sending a challenge, couched in memorable words, to the Duke of Guise, who had slandered the fair fame of his adored rpieen and mistress, and who, in speaking basely of her, had " most shamefully and wickedly lied." Bampton, in Uxfui'dshire, on the left bank of the river, but distant about a mile, is a pretty village town,"'-' remarkable for its interesting cliurch, which has the singular peculiarity that it has three rectors, who are all presented by the Church of Exeter — " to which certain lands were given by Leofric, cha])lain to Edward the Confessor, and tirst bishop of the see, about the year lU-iG." Eanqiton steeple is so very consjiicuous for many miles on this jiart of the river that Ave have deemed it right to delineate its features, whicli are in themselves sufficiently remarkable to warrant theii' introduction. The tower is sfpnire, from which rises an octangular steeple Avith four belfry windows. Pinnacles are at each corner, supported by slabs resting against the steejile, and forming basements for statues Avhich surmuunt them. This uni(pie arrangement is very striking ; the church is well worthy a visit, as, in the characteristic language of Skelton, it is affirmed to contain " exami)les of almost every period of architecture, from the Conquest to tlie reign of King Ceorge III.;" it has, among uther "noticeable" features, a fine Norman jiorcli, and an equally fine arch withinside, of the same early date, some good l)rasses of jn'iests, and a very curious series of sculptures of the Saviour and the Apo.^tles — a Avork of the fifteenth century, highly enriched by colour. At liadcot Bridge the Thames is divided — a circumstance of frequent occurrence in the course of the river — a new cut and a " short cut" having been made to facilitate navigation — thus also deepening the » Us iiiime is pniLalilj diiiv, .1 iVi.iii llu> Aiigio-Saxoii team, a true, aiul tun, an ciicliwurc, and it is still sunietinios called naniiitiin-in-biish. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 53 channel. The touvi.st will take the old stream, — which passes under three venerable arches, — although it is considerably choked up with Aveed.-;, and closely overhung with branches of the water-willow. He will here have occasion to pause and admire the foliage that adorns the banks, or rises from the bottom of the slow current : a nosegay of wild flowers may be gathered here, such as might deck a maiden's brow, and vie in beauty with the rare exotics of the conservatory. We direct attention to some of them — first asking obser- vation to the Great "Water Dock {Rumex aiiuaticus), the luxurious growth of whose flamboyant foliage gives to it a gigantic character among its lighter and more graceful neighbours. The astringent root of this plant formerly had a consider- able reputation as a medicine, but its use is now almost obsolete. Our course maybe rapid between Radcot Bridge and New Bridge, although the distance is some ten miles; for there is no village along _ its banks, but one small bridge — S: '=£ ■^ Tadpole Bridge — and but one ferry. There are, however, several weirs that act as pathways for foot-passen- gers ; and these weirs break the monotony of the river, afford " rests" to the voyager, and add materially to the picturesrpie of the scenery — nearly all of them being old and somewhat dilapidated. These are Old Man's weir. Old Nan's weir. Bushy weir, Kent's weir. Ten-foot weir, and Shefibrd weir : they occur during the first half of the voyage. Bushy weir being the only one that has the adjunct of a lock. A stone's throw from the river, a small cluster of houses, scarcely to be called a viUage, points out the site of ancient Siford, or 8heflbrd ; yet, on this lonely and isolated spot, now a2>parent!y far removed from human 54 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. intercourse, tlie great Alfred held one of his earliest parliaments. '' There sate, at Siford, many thanes, many bishops, and many learned men, proud earls and awful knights. There was Earl Alfrie, very learned in the law, and Alfred, England's herdsman — England's darling. He was king in England : he began to teach them, as we may hear {i.e. as we shall hear in Avhat follows), how they should live." * What a dream might have been enjoyed, resting under a hayrick the mowers had raised in a corner of the meadow in Avhich this memorable event is said to have taken place I Arri\'ed at New Bkidge, we again pause awhile to look around us — to ponder and reflect. The neighbourhood is unchanged since Leland MiW liKlUUK. described it as '■' lying in low meadows, often o\crriu\\ n by rage of rain :" a small inn stands on the Berkshire side, and a busy mill on that of Oxfordshire ; in the time of the venerable historian, there was here "a fayre mylle a jtrow lengthe of;" and it is probable a hostel also entertained the wayfarer. Age has preserved only the bridge, which • TllC IKlCIIl, (if ol. i. 1). 170. cement, has been iiriiiti. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 55 was "new" six centuries ago, and is now, we believe, the oldest of all that sjDan the river/'-' A short distance below, the ^Yiudrush contributes its waters to the Thames, — one of the prettiest and most pleasant of English rivers; it rises among the hills of Cotswold, near Guiting, and, passing through Bourton-on-the-Water, Burford, Minster-Lovel, Witney (so long and still famous for its blankets), fertihzes and flourishes rich vales, quiet villages, and prosperous towns ; having done its duty, and received grateful homage on its way, it is lost for ever — absorbed into the bosom of the great father. Drayton, in his " Poly-Olbion," tells, in his own peculiar manner, the tale of these small rivers which swell the infant stream, describing them as handmaidens, anxious — •• to guide Queen Isis on her way, ere she receive her traine. Clear C'ohie and lively Leech have down from Cotswold's plain, At Lechlade linking hands, come likewise to support The mother of great Thames. When, seeing the resort, Fi'om Cotswold Wjiidn/sh scowi-es ; and with herself doth cast The train to overtake ; and therefore hies her fast Tlirougli the Oxfordian fields ; when (as the last of aU Those tioods that into Thames out of our Cotswold fall. And farthest unto the north) bright Eliiloile forth doth beare." Again the locks and weirs pleasantly and profitably bar our progress — the jn-incipal of these are Langley's weir and the Ark weir — until we reach the ferry, which continues the road between the village of Cumnoi' and that of Stanton Harcourt — the former in Berkshire, the latter in Oxfordshire — each being distant about two miles from the river-side. To visit one of these weirs — Hart's weir — we must ask the reader's comjDan}^ before M'e proceed farther on our route. In describing this, we shall make him sufficiently familiar with an object, to which it will be requisite frequently to direct his attention during his progress. Sometimes the weir is associated with the lock ; but, generally, far up the river, where the stream is neither broad nor deep, the weir stands * Its construction is worth noting, as it is a good example of ancient bridge building, with its groined arches and its projecting piers, which not only give strength to the structure, but protection to the traveller, who could shelter in their angles while the roadway was occupied by passing waggons. As a Ijreakwatcr these piers had an additional value. 56 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. alone. V\'c shall have occasion hereafter to picture them in comhina- tion. The weirs are artificial dams, or Lanks, carried across the river in order to pen np the water to a certain height, for the services of the mill, the fishery, and the navigation, A large range of framework rises from the bed of the river; this supports a number of flood-gates sliding in grooves, and connected with a sill in the bottom. Our engraving represents a group of these flood-gates as they were drawn upon land, and resting against the sujiport rudely constructed for them beside Hart's weir. They are thus used : — The square piles in the foreground are first struck at roguhu' distances in the sill under water : between each of these one of the gates is placed by means of the pole attached to it — the boards completely stopping the space, and forming a dam across the river. Two forms of dams are used: one with the board full uj^ou the centre of the piles, and secured to them by strong plugs, over which the boat-hook is sometimes passed to aid lifting ; the other has the water- board on one side, with a groove attached to it. Both of these are shown in the cut, as well as the rude stay for the voyc of a barge to pass THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. througli, and whicli is generally formed of tlie branch of a tree. Such arc the usual accompaniments of a weir in the upper Thames. ^Vheu these dams, or j^addles, are drawn up, the whole body of the stream, being collected into a narrow space, rushes through with great rapidity, and gives a temi)orary deptli to the shallows, or, by the power of the current, forces the barges over them. It is obvious that care is rerpiired to prepare the boat for the descent ; for there is some danger to be encountered. The weir is ever })icturesque, for the water is always forcing its way through or over it — sometimes in a hug\.' sheet, forming a striking- cascade, at other times dribbling through with a not unphasing melody. As we have elsewhere observed, there is usually a cottage close beside the weir, for the accommodation of the weir-keeper ; generally this is a public-house, pleasantly diversifying the scenery, and not the less so because often rugged and old. The tourist, to visit either Cumnor or Stanton Harcourt, must moor his boat at the very pretty ferry of Bablock Hithe. He will turn to the right on his way to Cumnor, and to the left on his road to Stanton Har- court ; the hitter, especially, will amply recompense him for an hour's VOL. I. I 58 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. delay in the progress of his voyage. Cinnnor has beeu made famous by the novel of " Kenilworth," the scene of which is here principally laid ; hut neither history nor tradition do more than supply a few dry bones, to which the great magician gave life. A few vestiges only indicate the site of Cumnor Place ; the '' haunted towers " are down ; a " Black Bear" still exists ; and it is not likely that Cumnor will ever be without a village hostelry so named. In the church is the tomb of Anthony Forstcr, who has been condemned to an unenviable notoriety 10 by Scutt, but i.s lar.dcd in his L'])ita]ili as a man of honour and integrity. The tomb is an altar tumb within the chancel railing, and has a highly enriched canopy. A brass is inserted with figures of Anthony and his family. S'j'AXTuN ll.\i:((iii;i', the old seat of one of the most ancieid and honour- aide families oi' the kingdom, — a family with much to dignify and less to discredit it than jterhaps any other of which England boasts, — is but a relic of its former magnificence : but that relic suffices to indicate its early grandeui-, and retains nnieh that caiinot fail to create dee]t and absorbing interest. The llareourts have possessed this manor of THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 59 Stanton for more than six liundred years ; the original grant was from Henry I. to "Milicent, the kinswoman of the Queen," whose daughter Isabel, marrying Eoland de Harcourt, the deed of gift was confirmed by the kings Stephen and the second Henry. It ceased to be their dwelling in IC.SS, and fell gradually to decay, until, in 1770, it was taken down — all except the porter's lodge, now the residence of the rector, the "kitchen," and one of the towers — the tower some time the residence of the poet Alexander Pope, and where (as he has himself recorded) he '('^£d.''/i h "; STANTON lIABCOUaT. translated the fifth book of Homer, On the ground floor of this tower is a private chapel, the walls still bearing indications of painted story ; the small room on the second floor, to which ascent is gained by a narrow stone staircase, is called, and will ever be called, " Pope's study ;" it commands a fine view, and must have given to the poet that happiest of all enjoyments — quiet in the country. On a pane of glass in one of the windows he wrote an inscription, recording the fact and date that here GO THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. he "finished the fifth Look of Homer."* The kitchen is best described by Dr. Plot, the old historian of Oxford county: — "It is so strangely unusual that, by way of riddle, one may truly call it either a kitchen uithin a chimney, or a kitchen without one ; for below it is nothing but a large square, and octangular above, ascending like a tower, the fires being made against the walls, and the smoke climbing up them without any tunnels or disturbance to the cooks, which, being stopped by a large conical roof at the top, goes out at loop-holes on every side, according as the wind sets, the loop-holes at the side next the wind being shut with folding doors, the adverse side open." This descri])- tion is accurate now, as it was then ; it is still used by the gentleman who farms the estate, whose dwelling-house, formed of the old materials. to Xniichaui Cdint the scat the Harcourts now occuiiy, a I'ew miles below Oxl'nid, and wliidi we shall visit on our Toya,L:c lYnni that ilty down the Thames. The lume nieas\ires ulicjut six inches by two ; it is of red stained pl.ass. We append a copy of the insciip- tion, taken from " Ireland's rietui-esqne Views," and which we compared with the original, courteously shown to us by and curious relic there can be no doubt. THE LOOK OF THE THAMES. 61 adjoins the kitclien. It is surmonntcd by a vane, the crest of the Harconrts. The chiirch is a fine and very interesting structure : much of it is of Norman arcliitecture : it is among the most beautiful of the many beau- tiful churches of Oxfordshire, Through one of the doors the men have entrance, while the women enter by another, in accordance with " a custom established there from time immemorial." The decorations of the interior are of very early date : the oak wood-screen being considered the oldest, of wood, in England. A small chapel contains the dust of many of the Har- conrts*— a race honoured and esteemed, always and Avithout exception, from the founder of the family to its present representative. It is surely something to be a gentleman of six hundred years I In the church- yard is a monument to the memory of an affianced pair who were struck dead by lightning : the epitaph is from the pen of Pope; so also is an epitaph to the ^„^ ^ ^^.,, only son of the Lord Chancellor Harcourt — the good and learned peer who was the friend of Pope and the other poets of the age. This epitaph contains the touching lines of lament — " How vain is reason — eloquence liow weak I That Tope must teU wliat Harcourt cannot speak 1" "We crept up the narrow stairs which led from the chapel, with its remnants of adornments and painted glass, — where the poet, no doubt, worshipped according to his f\iith, — and entered the little turret room, a shrine where numbers, " past, present, and to come," have recalled, or will recall, the memory of Pope, not only as a poet and a deep earnest thinker, but as one who proved the English language as susceptible of * The most interesting of tliese monuments are those which contain the effigies of Sir Knbert Harcourt, and Margaret Byron, liis wife. The knight received the Order of the Garter about flie year 1463. His lady, who reposes by his side, is also, like her husband, adorned with the mantle of the order, and has the garter on her left arm, just above the elbow. This is one of only three examples of female sepulchral effigies thus decorated. 62 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. grace as of dignity of expression; and tliougli "pure Doric," in our "slang" days, lias fallen into contempt, and it may be that even those who cherish " good English" may consider his prose somewhat " stilted," yet it was pleasant to find ourselves within the sanctuary of the narrow chamber where, in " the year 1718, Alexander Pope finished the fifth volume of Homer." Pope's attachment to, and subsequent hatred of, Lad}^ Mary Wortley Montagu, are matters of history : his first letter to this remarkable woman, commencing their correspondence, held during the "embassy," is dated Twickenham, 1716; and we find in a letter, undated, that he sends his fair correspondent the tliird volume of the " Iliad," saying, " I make not the least question but you could give me great eclaircissements ujjon many passages in Homer, since you have been enlightened by the same sun that inspired the father of poetry. You are now glowing under the climate that animated him ; you may see his image rising more boldly about you, in the very scenes of his story and action ; you may lay the immortal work on some broken column of a hero's sepulchre, and read the fall of Troy in the shade of a Trojan ruin." As Lady Mary's reply is dated 1717, it is not unfair to infer that this, and other more impassioned epistles from the poet to the lady, were written within these walls. One, in particular, bearing date September the 1st, is so interwoven with his residence at Stanton Har- court, that we cannot refrain from copying it on this page. " I have a mind," he writes to the lad}'-, " to fill the rest of this paper with an accident that happened just under my eyes, and has made a great impression upon me. I have just passed part of this summer at an o\d romantic seat of my Lord Harcourt's, which he has lent me ; it overlooks a common field, where, under the shade of a haycock, sat two lovers, as constant as ever were found in romance, beneath a spreading beech. The name of the one, let it suund as it will, was John Hcwett, the other Sarah Drew. John was a well-set man, about five-and- twenty ; Sarah a In-own woman of eighteen, .lohn had for several months borne the labour of the day in the same field with Sarah ; when she milked, it was his morning and evening charge to bring the cows to her i)ai]. Tlicir love was the talk, hut not tlie scandal (>/ the iici)/hbovr- THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 63 liood, for all they aimed at was the blameless possession of each other in marriage. It was but this very morning that he obtained her parents' consent, and it was but till the next week that they were to wait to be happy. Perhaps this very day, in the intervals of their work, they were talking of their wedding clothes, and John was now matching several kinds of poppies and field- flowers to her complexion, to make her a present of knots for the day. "While they were thus employed (it was on the last day of July), a terrible storm of thunder and lightning arose, and drove the labourers to what shelter the trees or hedges afforded. Sarah, frightened and out of breath, sunk on a haycock, and John (who never separated from her) sat by her side, having raked two or three heaps together to secure her. Immediately there was heard so loud a crack as if heaven had burst asunder. The labourers, all solicitous for each other's safety, called to one another ; those who were nearest our lovers, hearing no answer, stepped to the place where they lay. They first saw a little smoke, and after, this faithful pair — John with one arm about his Sarah's neck, and the other held over her face, as if to screen her from the lightning. They were dead. There was no mark or discolouring on their bodies, only that Sarah's eyebrow was a little singed, and a small spot between her breasts. They were buried the next day in one grave, in the parish of Stanton Harcourt, in Oxford- shire, where my Lord Harcourt, at my request, has erected a monument over them." The poet then quotes the epitaph he had written to their memory- — lines not worthy of him, and which still stand in the church- yard just above their grave. A few words more and our quotation is at an end. " Upon the whole, I cannot think these people unha}>py ; the greatest happiness, next to living as they would have done, was to die as they did. The greatest honour people of this low degree could have was to be remembered on a little monument, unless you will give them another — that of being honoured with a tear from the finest eyes in the world. I know you have tenderness ; you must have it ; it is the very emanation of good sense and virtue ; the finest minds, lilte the finest metals, dis-wlie the easiestj' Lady IMary's reply, unfortunately, proved how little she deserved this charming compliment. She had neither 64 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. faitli in, nor compreliensiou of, tlie nature and virtues of liumble life ; slie tries her skill on the epitaph Pope half requested, and it lives as a record of her Avant of sympathy in the pure and delicate — a coarse lampoon.* There is not much standing of the " old romantic seat," save the spacious and stately kitchen (how important were those kitchens of old times, both for domestic and social purposes I) and Pope's little tower ; but we fancy the real scene, the locale is very little changed from what it was one hundred and thirty-five years ago ; the "common field," imme- diately round the "remains," is now a kitchen garden; and there is a bewildering labyrinth of paths and rugged old trees, and somewhat extensive "stews" or fish-ponds, beside whose tangled banks we saw several " spotted snakes " in full enjoyment of land and water, literally basking in sunshine on the stagnant pool ; they looked so happy and inoffensive, that fear of their poison was removed by their beauty. The tower of the venerable church, the ruin of the dwelling, the heavy and massive foliage of the noble trees, through which the sunbeams struggled to obtain entrance, now glaring full upon an impenetrable oak, then glancing through the spines of a fir, or beneath the silver arm of a beech, formed a rich sylvan scene, Avhich, even without the kindly hos})itality at the vicarage, and the full memories of Pope, would not have been easily forgotten. In the immediate neighbourhood of Stanton Harcourt are two large stones, popularly known as "the Devil's Quoits:" all earlier writers mention three ; there are now but two, and these are distant nearly a quarter of a mile from each other. They are said to commemorate a battle fought at r)ampton, between the British and the rSaxons, a.u. Oli; but this is little moi'e than a village tradition ; they are most probably ancient boundary stones. We rejoin the Thames at the Perry of Bablock Hrrni; ; it is a horse- ferry, as will be observed by the appended engraving. The river is Mrs. Sarah Josejilia llalo, nf Pliiladflphia. lias pulilislied a vi'i'y Cdiiiiirclicusivc ami interesting iioir of Lady Mary Wurtley Montagu, accompanied by some oflier best correspondence. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. narrow hero, and for some distance, above and below, it passes by the sides of low meadows — famous pasture land for cattle, though occasion- ally under water in winter, and Avhen there have been heavy and con- tinuous falls of rain. We keep in view, as we descend the stream, the pleasant hills — those of Witliam — which environ Oxford, distant about five miles ; but the distance is doubled to those who make "the voyage" in boats — so continually docs the river "wind." ■^%''^4'--^^^ BABLOCK IIITHE FEKIIY. The better dressed, the more comfortable and " respectable," are our peasantry, the less interesting and picturesrpie they become as subjects for the pen or pencil of the tourist. We so seldom meet on our jour- neyings any one who looks, or does, or says, what can be called " original," that we have a delightful sensation of " freshness" when we encounter aught that promises a departure from "every-day " existence. While crossing the Thames in the primitive "horse-boat," at Bablock Hithe, our attention was attracted by an unusually tall man, who was leaning, in an attitude at once careless and gracefid, against the door of the ferry -house ; his smockfrock, of some grey material, was elaborately K 66 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. pleated and worked on the shonlders ; and his heavy, but handsome, Saxon features were expressive of the most intense mehancholy. On the ground beside him was what looked like the foundation of an arm-chair, crossed and recrossed by wicker-work, round which various long grasses in seed and flower were twisted, every passing breeze bending their heads or rustling among their stems. The chair was divided into three or four compartments, overarched by these grasses — bower-fashion — and we imagined we saw something moving within each recess. We inrpiired who the stranger was. "That I" replied the boatman ; "oh, that is Tom Ilirsell, the owl-finder." " Owl-finder 1 — what do you mean ?" " Why, he travels the country, from one end to the other, looking for owls and bats : owls, especially, he catches, or steals from their nests, and tames, and then sells them to the gentry, or may be to gardeners. Many a one likes them in barns and granaries better than cats ; and Tom is a man of his word — if he promises an owl lie'll be sure to bring it, and for the price he named, even if some one else offered him twice the sum. He don't matter a walk of thirty mile to get the owlets, and he's as true as a sun-dial." We asked " Tom Ilirsell" if he had any owls for sale. " None fit," he replied- — none that he could recommend. There was a slee])iness in the man's look ; his eyes winked in the sun, as if light were disagreeable to him ; he moved his head, too, slowly, in a sort of half-circle, while he spoke, and we fancied he had imbibed some of the owl-natnre — " Our nature is miIkUucI to \\h;U it worlds in." One of our jiarty laughingly observed, that in a former state of exist- ence he must have been the bird of night. Certainly, there was much about him nnlike any other person we had ever noted; he seemed hardly awake, and yet it was evident he saw and observed us. AVe impiired if there was an owl nnder sheller of those long grasses ? '' Yes, there was, a line tamo one. He had a deal of trouble training that owl : it was such a sulky I he had taken it at Farnham ; but it was THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. Ci promised to a lord's gardener near Marlow ; lie couldn't sell it — it was promised." He pulled the bird out ; it fluttered, and winked, and twisted on liis hand, and shook its feathers, and its eyes dilated and contracted while creeping up his sleeve, gently, and hiding its great full head in the neck of his smockfrock. He drew out another — a fierce, spiteful little bird — who hissed like a serj^ent, and chattered, and clapped its beak, and tried to bite, though it evidently did not see what to bite at. " It will take another month or two to tame this one," ho said. "Had you ever one you could not tame?" The owl-finder gave a grim, solemn smile, while a sort of phosphoric light glittered in his eyes. "One I could not tame?" he repeated: " they're all awhiles stubborn — it"s their nature ; they take different training from other birds — not at all the same ; the younger they be the better ; but I'd be sorry to find one I couldn't tame." " Do you find them at night ?" " Night and day is all the same to me : day and night — all one. Glow-worms, owls, bats, night-hawks, snakes, fish, flesh, and fo\\'l^all the same. I can catch anything I like ; tame anything I like ; but the owls are my favourites — I know them best, and they know me." The peculiar light that glittered in the eyes of the "owl-finder" Avas any- thing but pleasant, and the more he talked (his talk was decidedly an undertoned graveyard whisper), the more he blinked his eyes and moved his head. "I've a young one here," he continued, "Pope I call it ; it came from the tower where the pope lived once ; they call it Pope's Tower." He pulled it out of its appropriate cage, and held it up : the bird hooted and hissed, and the others took up the inharmonious notes, and hissed in concert, flapping their Avings. "Here is a thing," said the man, " I don't understand, though I've been among them, man and boy, these many years, for my father was grave-digger to an old church, and so I may say I grew up among them. I used to climb the ivy when I was a little chap — so high — in twilight, or moonlight, or dead darkness — all one. I knew well th.e two great nests of the big buff owl, and the horned owl, at different sides of the old clock-tower ; and I used 68 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. to take up bits of meat ov mice, and lay "em on the edge of tlie nest ; and the great buff o-.vl, or the liorned owl, would come and tahe up the things, and feed the little mnfiy owlets ; and at last they came to know me, and would coo like doves when they heard me coming. And I had, like many another boy, a mother-in-law — step -mother some call it — who had no feeling fur the child of the dead bones that were in the churchyard ; and she'd often, when my father Avas abed and asleep, turn me out in the shiny snow or the bitter rain, and I'd away, and just climb up and shelter under the nest of the great buff owl in the angle of the tower, warm and dry ; and the old owls would come and coo at me as they did to their young ones, but never seek to hurt me ; and many's the star we've seen shining and falling through that darkness, and many a blink of the moon I've got that never reached the earth ; and seen and heard much through the broad leaves of the ivy that nobody Avould believe if I was to tell it. There's more roams the skies a' nights than we think of. I shall never on this earth have the happy time again I had under the buff owl's nest." He raised his dreamy eyes, but their brightness Avas gone ; they looked dim and heavy, and the poor fellow sighed. We reminded liim he had said there Avas something he did not under- stand about that particular owl he called " Pope." " Oh, yes ; day or night, niglit or day. whenever Pope hisses all the rest hiss ; and if he hoots they all hoot ; he seems like a master among them — they have their masters ; he never minds tlieir hooting." " Is Pope bes])oke ?" " Yes. I've only three with me ; tlie}"re all besjioke." " Have you any at home ?" " At home V" he repeated, then moved his head in that strange half- circling way, and added, " home I I have no home ; but I have two or three sets to take from different ]iarts of the country. You're from the town, I think. I shall be en Waterloo Bridge on the 12th of November, and if y(ai want an owl by then, I'll keep one for you ; I rest there for a coui)le of hours between two and four." We bespoke an owl. Tom Jlirsell replaced hij birds, tying all to THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. their perches, except the senior, who seemed to liave an affection for his master, and a desire to nestle about his person, rather than to return into the shadows of the long grass. There was something strange and mysterious about the " owl -finder." He did not seek even to dispose of his game. What an unchildish chiUlhood must his have been I — escaping from the brutality of a cruel step-mother to shelter under an owl's nest in the tower of an old church — finding a forbearance in those savage birds that was denied him in his father's house — hanging like a bat from the ivied tower above the mouldering graves — watching the stars, and peering through the ivy at the moonbeams — wondering if the shooting stars were angels — wondering and feeling, rather than thinking — alone ! alone I in the mysterious universe of night, when the animate and inanimate assume shapes, and sounds, and shadows all uidike them- selves. If the young and the brave- — the strong-hearted and strong- minded, knowing as much of causes and effects as it is given us to know — become superstitious in the darkness, and often quail and quake with undefined sensations they shame to confess, it is no suliject of astonishment if the mind of the poor ill-used child was so shaken in his youth as to grow up morbid and melancholy, deriving a species of pleasure and excitement from the conipanionshiji of the unearthly birds with whom he associated during those lonely hours. It was a rude and evil thing of one of our friends, after we had left the " owl-finder," to suggest that the stalwart fellow was a "Detective" in disguise. The months passed on ; we had forgotten our tri/st on Waterloo Bridge, and were crossing it on the 12th of January — two months after the appointed day — with no memory of Tom Hirsell in our minds, when a soft, quiet, clear voice, heard amid the din of traffic, said — " Will you please to have your owl ?" And we did have it, and brought it home, and i(. was put in a parrot's cage ; but it seemed so unhappy, both by day and night, that we sent it to the country, where it has already established a good mousing repu- tation. From Bablock llithe we encounter no object of interest (excepting the broad reach, and the quaint old "public" at Skinner's weir) until THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. we arrive at Ensiiaji — or, as it is called in the Ordnance map, S\yiN- FOUD — Bridge. E^ HAM B iDcr Ensliam, Eyncshani, or Einsliam, was a place of note before the Conquest : so early as lOOo an abbey A^■as founded here by Ethelmar, Earl of Cornwall, in the reign of Ethclred, the king " who signed the privilege of liberty with the sign of the Holy Cross ;" and here he held a general council in lOO'J. At the dissolution, the abbey and its site became the jn'operty of the Earl of Derby. None of its remains can now be founil : a few stones here and there indicate its site. A venerable Cuoss stands in the market-place, opposite the church; l)ut its date is not very remote, although time has much defaced its beauty. It is in this neighbourhood we begin to perceive the dangerous results of the recent and rapid growth of the weed, Aaachan's ahinastriim, commonly called as~;^=- THE LOOK OF THE THAMES. " the American weed." It lias not been known in England move than ten years; but during that brief ]ieriod it has spread so extensively — almost universally — through every district of our island, as very fre- quently to affect the traffic of rivers and canals, to impede the currents of minor streams, and even to till up isolated ponds. It has already rendered the Thames, in some parts, almost impassable without diffi- culty. A small pamphlet, written by William IMarshall, Esq., of Elv, gives its history as far as it can be given. " The intruder is so unlike any other water-plant, that it may be at once recognised by its leaves grow- ing //( threes, round a slender stringy stem. The colour of the plant is a deep green ; the leaves are about half an inch long, by an eighth wide, egg-shaped at the point, and hcset with minute teeth, icJiich cause them to cling. The stems are verij brittle, so that whenever the plant is dis- turbed, fragments are broken off. Although, at present, it cannot propagate itself by seed (all the flowers being male) its powers of increase are prodigious, as every fragment is capable of be- coming an independent plant, producing roots and stems, and extending itself indefinitely in every direction. jMost of our water-plants re- quire, in order to their increase, to be rooted in the bottom or sides of the river or drain in which they are tound ; but this is ludependont alto- gether of that condition, and actuallij grows as it travels slowly down the stream, after being cut." That this weed is "a foreigner" there can be no doubt. "Weeds very closely resembling, if not identical with it, are found in American rivers. ]\Ir. Marshall is of opinion that it is an importation from North America, and that, probably, its first visit was paid to us in a load of American timber. lie considers that all attempts to ''get rid of it" must be futile: that it never can be eradi- cated; and that all we shall be able to do is to •' keep it down." Its 72 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES, rapid spread is one of the marvels of nature. It is becoming .a serious evil : the Commissioners of the Thames should lose no time in grappling with the common enemy. Immediately below Ensham Bridge we made the somewhat dangerous passage of the weir, close to which, on the north side, is the site of '■ The Burnt Tree," dear to Oxford citizens as the scene of many a merry picnic. This tree was struck by lightning, and formed for many years a very picturesque object, and an excellent excuse for making a pleasant water excursion. We soon arrive at Canott's Ham, on the north side, into which many a pheasant strays from the neighbouring wood, and where in winter the snipe and wild duck abound. It is also noticeable as one of the few places on the river where the tench is to be found. The distance from Ensham to Godstow Bridge is about three miles ; between these bridges we meet the Evenlode, a pleasant river, which, rising on the edge of Worcestershire, and passing by Moreton-in-the- Marsh, Charlbury, and Combe, and refreshing Blenheim Park, here joins the Thames, and proceeds with it to Oxford.-'' All along to the right of the river highway, we keep in sight the wooded heights of Witham — a })leasure enhanced by the numerous windings of the river, which exhibit tlie hill in every variety of torm. This " bit" is the more valuable because of its rarity, as contrasting with the ordinary flatness and sameness of adjacent lands. "j" On the opposite side of the river is seen tlie tall spire of Cassixgton * Tlie Evfiilodo receives Uie Glyiiie, and conveys it to tlie Thames; the Glymo takes it course through Blenheim I'ark, and waters the ancient town of Woodstock. The palace built by Henry 11. is entirely gone, but " Rosamond's Well" still yields delicious draughts to the wayfarer. Several naiads of various ages arc in attendance to welcome visitors. Of the house in which Chaucer lived and wrote, a few fragments remain in the garden of a modern dwelling. Of the manor-house, where Queen Elizabeth was some [time imprisoned by her sister Mary, nothing now exists. Blenheim, however, takes the place of Woodstock " unsurpassed in clumsy magnificence and untruthful grandeur." The mansion contains many good pictures, wiiicli are heir-looms; the library is extensive, but unavailable for any useful purpose. N.ature and Art have combined to make the grounds and gardens beautiful. t There is .a' tradition tliat King Otta],had^ a'^castle on Witham Hill, which is confirmed by the Chronicle of the Monastery of Abingdon, as appears by the following extract, p. 8 :— " BelUim— inter Offam regem Merciorum et Kinewolfum regera Westsaxonum, tunc temiioris fectum er.it castellum super montem de Witham." The Clironiclc adds that this war had the effect of driving from Witham a colony of nuns just settled there. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 73 Church ; it is in view all the way to Oxford, and is ever a pleasant sight, refreshing to the eye and cheering to tlie heart. On the same side of the river a building has been recently erected, which may be accepted as evidence of the progress of the age, in the midst of so much that is eloquent of "hoar antiquitie;" it is the new Paper-mill of the University. All makers of books are well aware that of late years the manufacture of paper has not been what it was a century since, or, rather, three centuries ago : while the leaves of our great -great-grandfathers are as fresh and fair as on the day they issued from the press, modern books, and illustrated books especially, are often full of unsightly and diseased marks, that mar the beauty of the volumes. The University, having experienced this evil, resolved to make its own paper ; it is a boon which claims public gratitude. The manufactory has a picturesque character seen from the Thames — not the less valuable because of the purposes to which it is dedicated. L 74 TUE BOOK OF THE THAMES. GoDSTOw Bridge is highly picturesque ; the river divides here, and at the brink of the older and more shallow channel is a pleasant inn — " The Trout," well known to anglers, but better to the " Oxford scholar," as a place accessible to the rower, who here seeks refreshment after toil, and finds the homeward voyage with the current an agreeable and easy THE UNIVEKSITY PAPER-SULL. eveniu"" task. At this spot commences the meadow — " Port Meadow," which, containing 4?.9 acres, reaches almost to the city, whose property it is, and has been from time immemorial, as recorded in Domesday. Every citizen has the right of free pasturage for cattle, or, rather, a right for which he pays the annual tribute of two pence for each horse or cow found there on the day upon which the city authorities meet for inspec- tion— a day of which, of course, no previous notice has been given. It is usually overflowed in Avinter, and has thus time for repose. Tlie 8tory of '" Fair Piosamond " has been told in a hundred ways : the "fair and comely dame" who was loved by Henry II. was, according to the legend, concealed by the king in a bower at Woodstock from the jealous eyes of his queen, Eleanor. Tlie tlieme was in high favour with the early minstrels, and historians have not disdained to preserve the memory of her surpassing beauty and her sad fate.* Blie was, according • " Ilor cnspbd locUes like threads of gcilcle Appeared to each man's sight ; Her sparkling eyes, like orient pcarles, Did cast a hcavcnlye light. " The blocjd \vitliin her crystal checkcs Did such a colour drive, As though the lillye and the rose Fur mastorship did strive." THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. to Stow, who follows Higden, the monk of Chester, the daughter of Walter Lord Clifford, became the '• lemman " of Henry II., and died at ^^ oodstock A. D. 1177, " poisoned by Queen Eleanor, as some thought." * GODSTOW BKIDGK. Stow proceeds to relate that her royal lover had made for her a house of wonderful working, so that no man or woman might come to her but he that was instructed by the king, or such as were right secret with him touching the matter. This house, after some, was named Labyrinthus, or " Dsedalus' worke, which was ^\•roug•ht like unto a knot, in a garden called a maze." Drayton, using the poet's licence, describes it as "con- sisting of vaults underground, arched and walled." And, in the famous ballad of " Fair liosamond," it is more minutely pictured as " a bower," * Lord Lyttleton tells us that Henry II. met Rosamund de Clitford at Godstow, in 1149, on his return from Carlisle. She was at that time, in aecurdanco with the custom of the age, a resident among the nuns here for educational purposes. She had two sons by the king : one the famous Earl of Salisbury, whose effigy is still to be seen in Salisbury Cathedral ; the other was educated for the Church, and became Bishop of Lincoln, and ultimately Chancellor of England. 76 THE BOOK OF THE TUAJJES. curiously built of " stone and timber strong," having no fewer than one hundred and fifty doors, and so cunningly contrived with turnings round about, that none could obtain access to it except by "a clue of thread." But jealousy is proverbially quick-sighted : Queen Eleanor discovered the secret, possessed herself of " the clue of thriddle, or silk," and so dealt with her rival that " she lived not long." Authorities differ as to the mode by which the queen obtained the necessary guide. Ilollinshed seriously states that " the king had drawn it after him out of her chamber withjiis foot;" and Speed, that "it fell from Ivosamond'slappe as she sate to take ayre, and, suddenly fleeing from the sight of the searcher, the end of her silk fastened to her foote, and the clue, still unwinding, re- mained behind." But historians content themselves with informing us that the lady "lived not long after," and do not insinuate that she was wounded with other weapons than sharp words, although tradition and the ballad -makers unite in charging the queen with the murder of Fair Rosamond by compelling her to drink poison. She was buried at *•' Godstow, in a liouse of nunnes beside Oxford," according to Stow, and " with these verses carved upon her tomb :" — " ,¥)ic jacct in tumb;i "ilosii munbi, non Aiosanuiub;i! |\on rcbolct, scb olct, qi'ir rcbolcrc solct." Her royal lover expended large sums in adorning her tomb. But, in the year 111»1, Hugh, Bishop of Bincoln, ordered the removal of her remains " without the church ;" he was obeyed, but after his departure her bones were gathered in a perfumed bag, and laid again in their resting-place, "under a fayre large grave -stone, about whose edges a fillet of brass was inlaid, and thereon written her name and praise." This tomb was partially existing in the last century, and " from the remains of the inscription it appears that she lived to a considerable age," setting aside the popular tale ; the most })robable account of the close of her life is, that she broke off her connexion with the king, and retired to Godstow, spending there the remainder of her days in religious duties — a theory quite in accordance with the usages of the times in which she lived, and of which there are abundant examples. THE LOOK OF THE THAMES. Of " THE House of Nuxnes" there now exist but a few ivy-clad walls; it was consecrated for Benedictine nuns a. d. 1138, in the presence of King Stephen and his queen ; seven hundred years and moi'e have passed since then, and tliree hundred years since the last abbess resigned her home to the iihysician. Dr. George Owen, to whom Henry VIII. had RlIN-^ ( F ( OrsTJW given it ; still the river rolls by its rugged courtyard and dilapidated gables, recalling to mind the story of the fair and frail beauty Avho gives the ruin a special place in history. At the foot of AYitham Hill— the hill that has so cheerful and fair an aspect from all points of the river within a range of several miles, and so agreeably enlivens the view from Oxford — is the ancient village of "VYitteham, or Wighthham, where a nunnery existed in the year G!)0. Here the Earla of Abingdon have now their seat, partly built, it is said, with the stones of Godstow. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. The Eel {Anguilla acutirostris) " sharp -nosed," is that which chiefly abounds in the Thames, and the other rivers of England, although the broad-nosed eel {AngniUa lafirostris) is almost as common ; the names sufficiently indicate the distinction. The Thames eel is the eel par excellence; in consequence, perhaps, of its cleaner feeding, it is far more delicate and yet much richer than the fish found elsewhere ; but it is not easily obtained, and is seldom offered for sale. In the Thames, the eel is rarely caught by the angler, although in ponds, and lakes, and other rivers it is freely taken with hook and line. " Eel-pots" made of wicker- work, which are sunk " over-night," baited within with any sort of animal matter, or eel-baskets, which are fixed in convenient places across by- currents of the river, are the " traps " by which they are secured in the Thames. The Tluanics eel seldom grows to a very large size ; it is not often obtained of a weight greater than three i)onnds, although occasionally one is found to weigh as much as seven pounds ; about seven or eight years ago, an eel was caught in a trap at Hart's weir that weighed eleven pounds : we had some doubts as to the statement given to us by the weir-keeper, by whom it had been caught, but it received confirma- tion from a fishmonger at Oxford, to whom he had disposed of it, and THE BOOK OF THE THAMES Avho kept it for some time as " a show." During last year, a fisherman brought to us, while angling on the river, a lusus naturtv — a yellow eel, entirely and purely yellow, from head to tail inclusive. We recom- mended him to offer it for sale to the Zoological Society ; hut, by some accident, it was lost. Subsequently, we communicated the fact to Pro- fessor Owen, who informed us that, though very uncommon, it was by no means a solitary instance. The fish was remarkably beautiful, as well as curious. The form and character of the eel are so well known as to render description unnecessary ; its great characteristic is its tenacity of life — it is almost impossible to kill it, as the cook knows, to her great discomfort. It is certain that the eel can move about freely on land, travelling through the dewy grass for miles from one pond or river to another. It has long been in disjiute whether the eel is oviparous or viviparous. Mr. Yarrell seems, however, to have set the question at rest — he considers it "oviparous, producing young like other true bony fishes;" and it is stated by Mr. Jesse that " they have been bred artificially from spawn." All readers are aware that for ages there existed a strong prejudice against this fish, originating, probably, in its general resemblance to the serpent ; the popular belief was that they were created out of decomposed animal matter — "sprang from mud" — were produced by horse-hairs generated in water, and so forth ; and in many places even now people will starve rather than eat them. Perhaps, of all the fish of the fresh- water, they form the most delicious food : a Thames eel of two pounds weight is a dainty dish to set before the Queen. AA'heu the eel is fished for with the hook, it is generally with the night line, for they prowl only by night ; a line with perhaps forty or fifty hooks, baited with lob-worms, is thrown into the river to take its chance, and it is usually successful when the water is " coloured," or after a flood ; but this is, of course, a practice to which the angler does not condescend : the Thames angler can rarely obtain an eel, except by means of " a silver hook." One of the handsomest of British aquatics is the Arrow-head {SagK- taria safjitta'/oUa), whether as regards the elegant spear-shaped leaves 80 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. of glossiest green, or the flower-spikes rising in pyramidical form from tlie water with strong fluted stems, and presenting altogether a striking resemblance to a highly -decorated gothic finial ; the flowers are three -petaled, white, with a flush of violet towards the centre, from which rises a granulated boss of green, that adds much to the beauty of the flower. This jilant is extensively cultivated among the (Chinese — not for its beauty, but for the sake of the bulb, which fixes itself in the solid earth below the mud, and constitutes an article of food. The roots attain a larger size in China, it a])pears, than they do with us ; but still we should think that, even in this country, their cultivation might be attempted with suc- cess in very watery localities, where other esculent plants are not grown ; and a little attention to its culture might produce the same improvement in the size and quality of the root, as has been the case with most of our garden vegetables. This very graceful plant is found in great abundance in this neighbourhood ; but there are few parts of the upper Thames Avhich it does not enliven by its luxuriant foliage. Having passed through Godstow Lock, Oxford City comes in sight; the village of Wolvercot is passed, but that of Binsey claims a moment's thought. The voyager will pause at Binsey Aveir, for here a charming view is obtained of ancient and venerable (Jxford— its pinnacles, and towers, and church s])ires rising proudly above surrounding domiciles. Nowhere do we obtain a more striking view, and here especially do we recall the expressive lines of the poet :— THE ARROW-HEAD. Like n, rich gem, in circling gold onshi-iiied, Where Isis" waters wind Along the sweetest shore Th.it ever felt fair culture's hands, Or spring's cmbroidiMTd mantle wore — Lo .' where majestic Oxford stands." THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 81 We step asliove awhile to visit the little village, and to ^Yalk to its church, half a mile or so distant from the river-bank. At Binsey, a. d. 730, the holy virgin Fridcswide had a chapel constructed of " wallyns and rough- hewn timber;"* hither were sent of her nuns "the most stubborn sort," to be confined in a dark room, and to be deprived of their usual repast; and here, too, was the famous well of St. Margaret, which St. Frides- wide, "by her prayers, caused to be opened;" here came the people to ease their burthened souls, and to be rid of their diseases ; consequently the adjoining village of Seckworth became a large town, containing OXFOKD, FROM NEAR BISSEY. twenty-four inns, — the dwellings chiefly of the priests appointed by the prior of Binsey to confess and absolve the penitents. Binsey has now but a dozen poor houses ; its church has a heart-broken look ; and of the well there is but an indication — a large earth-mound in a corner of the * The little chapel thus constructed by the saint was evidently one of those wooden buildings, dedi- cated to ecclesiastical services, wliicli were not uncommon in the Saxon era. The " wallyns " used by Frideswide were the timbers which formed the mainstay of the building-, and were such as we still find In old timber houses ; the " rough-hswa timljer " was fastened on them, and so made the outer walls. The Saxon chronicles give many notices of similar buildings. Thus, when Edwin was converted to Christianity in 627, he was baptized in a wooden chuvcb, on the spot where York Cathedral now stands. The famous church of Lindisfarne was first constructed, in «:j2, of sawn oak, and thatched. The most extraordinary existing instance of such a primitive Fjr_'lish cliurch is at Greensted, in Essex, which is thought to have been originally erected in haste to receive the body of the martyr king, St. Edmund, in its passage from Suffolk to London. The body of the church is farmed by a series of split trees, the flat side inwanl, and the rough bark outward ; they fit in sockets above and below, also formed of timber : and this is doubtless the sort of erection Frid-swide constructed, after the Saxon fashion. M 82 THE BOOK OP THE THAMES. graveyard completely dried up, there being no sign of water ; the spring is lost; and so, indeed, is its memory — for we inquired in vain among the neighbouring peasantry for St. Margaret's Well, of which they had heard and knew nothing — sic transit I * The ancient farm of Medley, which adjoins Binsey weir, is still a farm, as it was before the Norman conquest. Shortly before Oxford is reached, at a point called the Four Streams, the river separates into two channels, its " divided flood " meeting again just below the city, at the foot of Folly Bridge, at the commencement of Clirist Church meadow.f Our course takes us by the right-hand stream, the only navigable one, under a bridge on the highroad leading from Oxford to the west — a road which numbers seven bridges within a mile, and illustrates somewhat expensively the divided character of the Thames at this part of its course. A cluster of old houses points out the site of Osney ; we first pass, however, through Osney Lock, one of the most picturesque locks on the river ; although its accessories are only low houses and broken walls, they are such as the painter loves, and to our friend, Mr. E. W. Cooke, we are indebted for the sketch of which we append an engraving. Osney, or (Juscney, Abbey, once rivalled in extent and architectural beauty the grandest of the colleges that now adorn and dignify the proud city. It was ''seated on a flat or low ground, but for the grove, and trees, and rivulets that encompassed it not a little pleasant." It received * A siiiici'stitious belief in the cflicacy of holy weUs was one of the most characteristic features of the middle ages, and to them pilgriuiagos were made from great distances. Some religious establish- ment was generally near them, which profited by the devout. There is scarcely a large town in England without a record of some holy well near, and London had several— the most famous bchig that of Clerkenwell, which takes its name from it, and the luily well in the Strand, whieh .-till designates the street there. Tlie most famous of all these niclia/val wells is that still reniaiiiin- in Flintshire, and known as St. Winifred. The marvels tn|.| dC thr niii-aenlous eiiivs I,,. re efl'eeted (.litnliicd such renown for the waters, that a gothic chapel of sini^ nlar beauty was ere<'l( d (i\('r lliem. I'.ut it was not curative properties alone tlicy possessed— they had other viilues. 'I'lins the well at the far-lamed Al>bey of Walsingham gave success to the " wishes " of the pilgrim who (bank of it devoutly. Other instances of " wishing-wells " might he quoted, and superstitious observances noted, more akin to fortunc'telliiig t Tlie Thames, at and about Oxford, forms a complete network of streams— so nmeh so as to Ijo puzzling even to the surveyor. Our Oxford leaders will reccdleet the vaiious names of " Scckworth," "the Reach," " tlie Dunge," "Tot .stream," "the Wyke Stream," "the Four Streams," and many others. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 83 its first erection in 1120, by the donation of XloLert D'Oyly, at the instance of liis wife Edith; and the legend is, that often, when walking out of Oxford Castle by the river- side, she observed magpies chattering on a certain tree, "as it wer to sj)eke to her;" much marvelling at this, she asked of her confessor the meaning thereof, who told her they were not pies, but so many poor souls in purgatory, who were complaining to her, and entreating of her some good. Thereupon, and for their reUef, she procured the building of the abbey where the tree stood ; her " confessor," of course, becoming its abbot. During after-times, it Avas enriched by OSNEY LOCK. other donors, until it became " one of the first ornaments and wonders of this place, or nation;" to the great hall would often come, as guests, kings, prelates, and nobles of the first rank ; whatever heart could wish the monks enjoyed, "by means of the generosity of their founders and succeeding benefactors;" the church was adorned by the gifts of the pious — all who contributed something towards the building being en- titled to '•■ forty days' indulgence and forgiveness from sin " — hence it became " the envy of other religious houses in England and beyond sea ;" of arcliitecture exr|uisite and full of variety ; Avith hangings of most 84 THE BOOK OF T1]E THAMES. excellent work, windows of famous painting ; witli pillars elegant and uniform, each bearing a statue ; with wonderful variety of carvings and paintings, "that not only fed the eye with delight, hut struck the spec- tator with surprise and admiration." Of this grand and glorious work there is now not one stone remaining upon another ; " it suffered not a little from the Rump Parliament," — Time did the rest, and — " Oi" it tlierc now remains no memory, Kor any little monument to see." The abbots of Osney were peers of parliament. The last abbot was Robert King, who, in loo!), " surrendered" the abbey to Henry VIII. — who, in 15i2, made it the see of a bishop, assigning Gloucester Hall, now Worcester College, Oxford, for his residence. In 1546 the episcopal chair was transferred to the conventual church of St. Frideswide, which was then constituted the cathedral of the see, and called Christ Church, and the last abbot and only bishop of Osney became the first bishop of Oxford. Of Dr. King there is a portrait in the library at Christ Church, the background of which is a jjicture of the abbey. Others of its trea- sures are also in that college — " Old Tom,"' the famous Oxford bell, being one of them. Standing upon the site it occupied in the days of its })0\ver and grandeur, and searching in vain for a few stones to indicate its splendour, the mind is absolutely forced to ponder and reflect. Although, no doubt, much was gained to religion and liberty by the suppression of monasteries, and we may rejoice that we no longer hear in our " schools " " 'Jhc liarsh Javyon of contenli.ns monlis,'' something was surely lost of intellectual supremacy. Osney shared the fate of so many wealthy establishnicnts, A\hich the cuiiidity, and not the piety, of Henry ^TII. caused him tu sui)])ress. Although the friaries and the lesser monasteries were destroyed by law, the more powerful establishments were ruined by "surrender." V>y threats, cajolery, or bribery, the abbacies came into the king's hands, or under his control. Untractablc abbots were summarily disposed of by easily sustained charges of high-treason, and the monks were '"sent adrift to dig, or beg, THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. t5 or starve." Osney revived somewhat in tlie clays of Queen Mary, masses were again clianted witliin its walls ; but during the Common- wealth its ruin was completed, and of its remains there is now notliing but the site, which the Thames waters as freely and abundantly as it did three centuries ago. In tlie still recesses of the river we found that queen of water-nymphs, the White Water-Lily (Kijmphaa alba) in the greatest luxuriance, both in number and in the extraordinary size of the flowers and leaves ; on dragging some of these into the boat, we found that the stems were from eight to ten feet in length, and the leaves were of immense breadth ; the flowers also were unusually developed, and some speci- mens were suffused with a blush of roseate tint that contrasted delight- TIIK WATEK-LIL-V fully with the rich green of the calyx and leaves. It is in our aquatic flora, certainly, that we can vie with the richness of tropical regions ; and we should wish to see our ornamental waters better stocked with these native beauties than, with few exceptions, is the case. "What more lovely decoration could a small piece of water receive than a group of Water-lilies, white and yellow, the elegant Frog -bit, and the princely Flowering-rush, with its crown of purple and white blossoms, with a number of other charming [ilants either growing in the \\ater or fringing its edge ? On the current which runs to the left are the few indications which still exist to point out the locahty of another abbey — that of Rewley. Rewley Abbey, " sometime seated within pleasant groves, and en- vironed within clear streams," with its twenty-one elm -trees, and a 86 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. tree by itself, to represent tlie abbot and the number of its monks, was situated on tliis branch of the river ; its former splendour is, liowever, indicated only by a doorway, and a wall which now incloses part of the North-AYestern that is most picturesque ; but there is no exit, as the current is arrested to turn the mill Avhich still works there, where, by itself and its predecessors, it has worked since the castle first reared its strong and stately towers and battlements by the river's side ; indeed, there is evidence that the miller had precedence of the chatelain. We pass under a new railway bridge, close to the opening of the Oxford and Coventry Canal ; and, at the entrance to the city on this side, as we near one of the most ancient of its bridges — Hithe, or Hytho, Bridge — we observe a small cluster of rude and primitive houses, the small dwellings of a race of fishermen, who have followed that calling from father to son, in unbroken succession, for several hundred years. It was in this neighbourhood we heard an anecdutc, to listen to which we ask the reader a brief delay " oi route.'' Years many and Luig must pass before " cemeteries," with their cold marble monuments, and hard-hearted catacombs, their vaults, and gra- velled walks, and slender trees — rational, and well-ordered, and neces- sary as they are — can become a natural feature in our English landscape. The village churchyard was and is a sanctuary, — however neglected, however over-crowded, it is sanctified to us by that strong English bond, "old association:" it has formed fur centuries the link between the TORCH AT BAWLEY ABBKY. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. living and the dead — the present and the past. The church has been deprived, by modern innovation, of a most imposing and attractive ceremony, which tlie law of man has changed from a religious compact to a civil contract — thus brealdng with a rude and coarse hand a tie that was hitherto so sacred ; but the old English churchyard is still with us, and still bears the hallowed fruitage of abundant memories : it is one of the evidences of the " Immortality that stirs witliin us," this craving to perpetuate the remembrance of what was dearly loved in life. The sentiment is as strong in the lowly, when they mark a resting-place by a simple head-stone, as in the rich when they erect the costly cenotaph. This " Keeping the memory green iu our souls,'' is one of the dearest of all hopes and all duties, and the humblest natures cling to it as closely as do the highest. "Within sight of our noble river, some ten years ago, a man named Jabez Lloyd was considered as treading the path to independence : he was growing from a village carpenter into a boat -builder. He was a courteous, frank, and kindly fellow, becoming famous for launching those canoes in which " (Jxford men" skim the surface of the Thames. Jabez was married to a meek, dove-eyed little woman — one of those who continue to work on silently through the world, attracting very little attention while they are with us, but if laid up by illness, or called home by death, leave a blank which, because we find it impossible to fill up, we know how well it must have been filled. In this instance, however, it was not the meek little creature — never hap})y but in the sunshine of her husband's presence — who was taken, but the strong -handed Jabez ; he was trying one of those painted skimmers of the Thames, and had just got free of the reeds and weeds and rushes that weave a leafy barrier at a particular bend of the river, when, leaning incautiously a little on one side to disentangle his oar from the tough fibres of some water-plants, he went over, right into a bed of lilies, and was drowned before he could be extricated from the meshes of the golden-chaliced 88 THE BOOK OF THE TIIAMI flowers and their broad leaves. Jabez left absolutely nothing, or " less than nothing," to his widow. After the sale of spars, and paint, and fishing-tackle, and household goods, there was barely enough to pay the funeral expenses, and to purchase unpretending mourning. And in the overwhelming and miserable loneliness of her first widowhood, the little creature was forced to think of what she should, or could, do, to keep from out the workhouse. 8he was quite uneducated ; he married her Avheu she was but sixteen, just learning to be a dressmaker. What could she do ? She could sew, and attend to a cottage home ; she could be a farm servant — that little delicate pet of a woman, whom the great boatman cherished and watched over, and tended as if she were his one darling child — poor Mrs. Lloyd a farm servant ! She tried it I She hired herself out at three shillings a week at the farm, — you can see the ricks and trees of that large farmhouse from where we stood, — and the farmer's Avife — a great glory of a woman, as far as size and good-nature goes — trained her voice to speak gently, and abandoned altogether the tone of an ill-used woman she was wont to assume when addressing her domestics, saying "Thank you" to jMrs. Lloyd for every service, use- less though she thought it, which the })oor little woman rendered. Slie washed and she ironed, and she took most loving care of the poultry ; chickens grew rapidly under her superintendence, and young turkeys "cut" tlieir red heads — as children do theif teeth sometimes — with very little difficulty. She worked too at her needle. She did all she could ; but she was so neat and exact, so f(ind of doing everything she knew how to do in the best manner, that the farmer's Avife considered her " slow." She preferred her " helps " to be quick and slatternly ; she could not bear them to be slow. The little widow felt this, but what could she do more than she did ? and desjtite the sympathy of the farmer's wife, her (piick tenq)er overcame her humanity, and she gave the widow warning. Just at this time the curate of the village wanted a housekeeper, and with a belief in her being quite unfit for such a post, INIrs. Lloyd still felt it a duty to " try;" and so, with a trembling hand, she raised the garden latch, and j)resonted herself as a candidate. The curate, besides being tlie earnest, hard-working minister so suited to a THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 89 couutiy parish, was just the person to inspire poets with a subject, and young Ladies with the enthusiasm that leads to the manufacture and presentation of pen -wipers, slippers, and footstools : he was pale and thin, with a clear soft voice, and such truthful eyes I "Well, he told ]\Irs. Lloyd that he was too poor, he feared, to offer her sufficient remu- neration : he could not afford to pay a good servant. And Mrs. Lloyd assured him she was not a good servant, and if he would try her, very moderate wages would be more than she deserved : indeed, she feared she was hardly worth wages, but she had something to do before she died, and she could not be happy until it was done. Accordingly that evening she brought a bundle, and the clerk carried her box. She was installed in the smallest of all kitchens, and had even a smaller bedroom ; but there was room on the white wall for a portrait of her husband, which some Oxford youth had painted, and though a dreadful daub, it was a likeness. Before that she knelt, and before that she prayed ; and at the end of the week the curate thought — such was the peace, and comfort, and rpiiet, and neatness of his cottage — that he must be enter- taining an angel unawares. The curate had £80 a year, and the rector, who had £800, cautioned him, when he first came, in a fatherly sort of way, not to be extravagant. The advice was very good, and the young man profited by it, for he kept out of debt, and often sent his sister, who was a governess, small sums in postage stamps. All he could pay the little widow was about two and sixpence a week, and she had to find her tea and sugar and ''beer" out of that. Do not pity her ! She was bright and cheerful ; she could do very well without sugar, and as her master could not afford " beer," surely she was better without it. She was her own mistress — never found fault with ; her black dresses (she had two) wore to a miracle, but she was forced to buy another, because she must look respectable : that took away the savings of more than six months. Yet she went on saving, adding halfpence to halfpence, deny- ing herself everything almost which the humblest servant considers she wants ; sitting up at night when the moon was at full (for she would not waste her master's candle), making her caps '' do," and ironing out her cap-strings — darning, turning, trimming, all to save perhaps twopence; N 90 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. but she had a purpose to work out. She rarely opened the garden gate except to go to church or to do the small marketings. On Sunday evenings she indulged in the luxury of tears over her husband's grave ; and returning from market, she always paused at the stone-cutter's yard, eyeing the tombstones. Once she entered timidly — she was timid in all things — and inquired the various prices ; and the stone-cutter, when he saw her threadbare but neat dress, and observed the fluttering of the washed-out crape curtains on her bonnet, and noted how limp and poor she looked, Avondered why she troubled him : but he was a kind man, and did not say so. Time wore on : the curate had an ever-accumu- lating stock of pen-wipers, slippers, and footstools ; sometimes went out to dinner, but more frequently to tea ; and still more frequently visited the poor and the schools, and lectured, or stayed at home ; or, as a great luxury at IMidsummer, when there was not much sickness in the parish, and it was holiday time in the school, took his rod to wander beside the queenly river he loved so well. The rod was simply an excuse for loitering, though he did sometimes bring home some little fish tliat would have formed good subjects for the microscope. Time Avore on, and some people wondered that the curate 2>ermitted his little servant to wear such threadbare black ; but others — the majority — only saw the widow's meek thankful face, and her soft hopeful eyes, and marvelled, with more reason, how neat and pleasant she made all things in her master's house. How different are the meanings different people draw from the same readings ! Time again passed on, and it was now three years since the strong boat-builder had found his death in the Thames, when the " widow " again entered the stone-cutter's yard ; she placed a slip of paper in his hand, and he read, — SACEED TO THE ME.MOltY OF JABEZ LLOYD, Ar.KD TWENTY-EIGHT, BnAT-BEILDKH, WHO WAS LlROWNED IN THE SUNSHINE OF THE 24Tn OF JUNE, 18 , AMONG THE ■\VATEl!-Ln,IES OF THE THAMES. HE WAS BELOVED BY GOD AND MAN. Slie pointed to a tombstone, the one upon wliich her heart had long been fixed. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 91 "But who will pay for tlais?" inquired the stone-cutter. The little widow put the money into his hand. The man looked at her with astonishment, and involuntarily lifted his hat while he spoke. " It is a very humble stone," she said, " and no one can think I have taken a liberty in putting it up. I have worked and saved for it day and night. I shall be able to see it every Sunday. You will put it up at once, sir?" " God bless the woman I" exclaimed the stone-cutter ; " 1 would have done it long ago if I had given it a thought. I loved Jabez ; and as to your money, I '11 not touch it. You shall see the stone in its place next Sunday." Such a warm colour as came to the widow's cheeks — such brightness as flashed from the widow's eyes 1 and how she trembled beneath her threadbare drapery ! "You viust take the money," she said, firmly; "it inust be my doing. Take the money, sir, or else I must go elsewhere ; only thank you for your offer — j'ou meant it in kindness." The following Sunday it was in its place, and the stone-cutter told the story over and over again, interrupted occasionally by a guttural sort of sound in his throat. The only one who did not appreciate this woman's offering Avas the churchwarden, who stoutly contended that the poor had no business with such fine feelings, and grew very red, and looked very indignantly at the tombstone. Nevertheless, it excited a good deal of interest; after evening service, even the little children retired from the corner of the churchyard in which it is placed, knowing who had a right to kneel there in solitude and silence. Of Oxford Castle there remains only a solitary tower ; but the mound, planted with evergreens, still rises at its northern side. As A\ill be seen in our engraving (for the sketch we are indebted to IMr. Harvey, of Oxford), the old mill and its dependant dwellings are in harmony with the old walls with which they have been so long associated. The castle was begun by llobert D'Oyly* in 1071, and finished in 1073, " to keep in * There are several persons bearing- this name residing- in tlio north of Oxfordshire at the present time, and reputed to Ije descendants of Itobert D'Oyly. 92 THE BOOK OF TOE THAMES. order the neiglibouring parts, especially the city of Oxford, which gave great affronts and proved troublesome to King William." It was famous from that time to the Civil Wars, when it had lost much of its strength and value ; afterwards it gradually became a ruin, which ranks among the most interesting relics of the venerable city. " Time's gradual touch Has miiulilei-'d iuto beauty many a tower, Which, when it frown'd with all it; liuttlcnicuts, Was only terrible." The old castle could tell many strange stories from its palmy days, immediately following the Conquest, to the commencement of the present century, when this tower was the jail of the county. Perhaps the most OXFUUD CASTLE. remarkable of its incidents is that which relates to the Empress Maud, who, being besieged there by the army of King Stephen, contrived to escape thence into Abingdon, The river was frozen over, and, accom- panied by thi-ee trusty knights, all clad in ghostly white, she issued from THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 93 its postern gate at dead midnight, and, crossing the ice, passed the sen- tinels of the enemy unohserved. There is Httle douht, however, that a castk% a residence of some kind or other, existed at Oxford long prior to the Conqnest, and, prohably, on the site which the castle now occupies, and also that it was a royal dwelling, in which Offa, and Alfred and his sons resided ; indeed, many Saxon remains have been from time to time discovered by digging in the immediate neighbourhood, and it is clearly ascertained by ancient records that a tower was standing in the time of King Ethelred. We bring together, in the appended engraving, the Roach and Dace, for, as all Thames anglers know, they are generally found together, and caught with the same bait — the gentle. These fish supply the principal sport of the angler during the summer months, the dace being more abundant in June and July, and the roach in autumn ; biting most freely, and being in best condition, in September and October. It is only the skilful angler who can fill his basket with these fish, although they abound in all parts of the Thames. The Roach (Lenciscus riifihis) is found in nearly all English rivers, preferring, however, those which are comparatively slow ; and living freely in lakes, ponds, and pools, where the water has no egress. According to Yarrell, " the colour of the upper part of the head and back is dusky green, with blue reflections, becoming lighter on the sides, and passing into silvery white on the belly; the irides yellow, cheeks and gill-covers silvery wliite ; dorsal and caudal fins }iale brown, tinged with red ; pectoral fins orange red ; ventral and anal fins bright red ; the scales are rather large, marked with consecutive and radiating lines." The roach is a handsome fish, and is known at once by his bright red colour, and especially by the marked redness of the eye. It is frequently caught of about six or eight inches in length, and weighing between half-a-pound and a pound. It is not uncommon to catch four or five dozen of that size as the result of a day's sport ; particularly in the neighbourhood of Marlovv, where perhaps the largest roach are found in greatest abundance, especially during the autumn months, and when the water has been somewdiat "coloured" by rain. It is rare to find a roach in the Thames 91. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. weighing more than two pounds. Mr, Jesse speaks of one that ^Yeighed three pounds ; we have ourselves caught one, but only one, that weighed a pound and three quarters. The Dace {Leuciscus vulgaris) is like the roach, gregarious- — roaming and feeding in shoals ; it is found in all parts of the Thames ; it bears a resemblance to the roach, except that its body is more taper and graceful, the scales are much smaller, and its hue is silvery Avithout any admixture of red. It prefers the more rapid to the quieter current ; and, although, as we have stated, these fish are usually found together, the angler knows by experience where the one will be found more abundantly than the THE ROACU AND DACE. other. The dace seldom measures more than six inches in length, and rarely weighs more than half-a-pound ; but it is by no means uncomuion for a skilful angler to kill twenty dozen of them in the course of a day. The dace is frequently caught with the fly, for it will rise freely. The usual mode of angling for roach and dace is, however, by '■ bottom -fishing,"' in a depth of water about six feet. The angler moors his punt in some well-known '•pitch," where the fish are known to congregate ; it must be free from weed, and the current neither too rapid nor too slo^'. He fishes with a very small hook, baited with a single gentle, or it may be two gentles; his bait should lie as near the TUE BOOK OF THE THAMES. ground as it can be without actually touching it ; his bottom line is of horse -hair, or, at all events, the lower portion of his line — not plaited, but single ; and he soon finds that, if his strike is sharp and sudden, he loses both hook and fish ; good hair, however, will last a whole day, if properly used, and be of sufficient strength to land a heavier fish than any roach or dace in the Thames. Many anglers prefer to fish with fine gut ; but no matter how fine it may be, it is never so efficacious as the single hair : the gut will always '• magnify " in water, and usually raises bubbles, so small as to be imperceptible to the human eye, but which the fish see well enough to have warning of danger. The hair has not these disadvantages. In using either, care is taken that the colour is of a pale tint — as near as may be to the colour of the water. It is obvious that the angler who fishes with hair must be more skilful and expe- rienced than he who trusts to gut ; but we answer for it, that he who iises the oue will be twice as successful as he who depends on the other. " When you fish for roach or dace," as honest Izaak says, "you must have a small hook, a quick eye, and a nimble liand." And let the fly- fisher say what he will — and he does say a deal to lower the craft of the bottom-fisher — the skill required to secure sport is at least equal to that which is demanded by him who throws the mimic insect under a bough across a river fifty feet wide. The ire of the fly-fisher, however, is chiefly induced by a common practice of the bait-fisher, who, in order to draw the fish to his vicinage, is continually throwing in ground-bait — • i. e. balls composed of bread and bran mixed up with clay, which, dis- solving and separating, attract the fish to the source from whence food has proceeded. It must be confessed that this practice does look unseemly, and goes far to justify the sneers which the more ambitious anglers of the Scotch and Irish lakes so frequently aim at the simple joys of those who are content with si;ch pleasures as are supplied by the venerable river which gladdens and glorifies the great capital of the world.* * Not very long ago, roach and dace were valuable cliiefly for their scales, Tvhich were used in the manufacture of artificial pearls ; tills trade has, however, now altogether ceased. Neither of these fish Is desirable for the table, although some persons profess to be foud of them, and they may be good enough when nothing better is to be had. 96 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. Leaving- to the left tlie rugged island, once the site of Osney, and now covered Avith houses of a low grade, with rough gardens, inclosed by dilapidated walls or broken palisades, and to the right the fertile meadows around which winds the ancient bed of the river, we arrive at Folly Bridge,* but must previously pass through a lock, the river here having a fall of about three feet. At the extremity of the little island we have described, was the famous tower with which for centuries was associated the once dreaded, but now venerated, name of Friar Bacon, "Friar Bacon's Study," which formerly stood on this bridge, "near the end next the city," Avas taken down in the year 1779 ; and the prophecy thus failed, that " when a man more learned than he passed imder it the tower would fall," — hence the old warning, when a youth Avas sent to the University, "■ Beware of walking near the Friar's Tower I" It is tradi- tionally narrated that to this tower the great Roger Bacon, one of the greatest luminaries of the middle ages, used to resort at night " to take the altitude and distance of the stars." Po})ular }»rojudice ac- cused him of practising magic, and, according to the legend, be was cited to "Rome on this cliargo by the general of his order (he was a Franciscan friar) ; but having cleared himself, ho was sent back to England. The tower was said to have been built in King Stephen's time, as " a Pharos or high watch-tower for the defence of the city." The 1iii(lj;p at 1 Soiitli Hriilgo; THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 97 We have been passing for some time through the lower parts and the outer side of Oxford ; for these picturesque houses and gardens tliat skirt the bank of the river are it.s lanes and alleys. Into Oxford, however, it is not our design to enter with a view to describe the city ; to do so at all adequately is impost?ible within the space to which we are limited. The visitor will readily lay his hand on one of the many books in which it is illustrated largely and described fully. We will only, therefore, ask the reader to " step" Avith us into Oxford before we rejoin the river, and resume our voyage between its banks."^' Its antiquity (according to legendary lore) is as remote as that of any existing EngHsh city. The earlier chroniclers, in the absence of fact, had recourse to fiction ; and finding the early history of the city * The distance from Lomlm to Oxford by water is understood to be UC J miles ; by land it is 52. ■The Oarsman's Guide" calculates the water distance at 115^ miles. 98 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. depended on tradition only, gave these traditions a lasting form in monkish history. Of these the most amusing, but the most fanciful, is the work of Geoffrey of Monmouth, an ecclesiastic who lived in the twelfth century, and whoso industry and credulity were both equally remarkable. He declares Oxford to have been originally built one thousand and nine years before Christ, by Memphric, King of the Britons, when it was called Caer-Memphricii, or as some write it, Memphritii, "upon the ryver Temes," and therefore "deserves to be reckoned not only amongst the first and most antient cities of Britain, but of all Europe and of the world." More correct chroniclers come to our aid, and we know from authentic history that the Saxons " much affected this city with hurt," It was burnt by the Danes, and suffered in a hundred ways during the wars and civil contests that followed — from the Conquest to the struggles of Charles I. and his parliament. At the Conquest the citizens numbered twelve hundred. It is stated in Domesday Book that in Oxeneford " are two hundred and forty -three houses, as well within as without the wall, that pay or yield geld ; and five hundred and twenty -two more, at least, which are so wasted and destroyed that they caimot pay geld." * Commentators differ, without any reason, as to the derivation of the name. There can be no doubt that Oxenford, by which it was called in early time, means neither more nor less than a ford for oxen ; much useless controversy has been expended on this point, Avhich might, it would seem, be at once determined by common sense : Domesday, the old Saxon chronicles, and the city seals,f confirm the Ford. It was called Oxford probably from the king's oxen being driven thither (for * Domesday Book is the most impovtant and valuable monument of its kind possessed by any nation. It was compiled under the direction of William the Conqueror, and in accordance with the resolution passed at the council held in Gloucester, a.d. 1085. It contains a survey of all England, and minutely specifies the extent of lands in every county, and who they are held by. It .also t'ives (lie various tenures under which they arc held, and notes whether they arc meadow, pasture, or woody dis- tricts. In some instances it gives the number of persons living on them, and notes if they be bund or free. To the historian and topographer this work is inv:iIiial.ilo ; and it aids us in the darker times of Saxon rule, by incidentally narraUng its grants. t The old city seal represents an ox crossing a ford. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 99 it was a royal demesne under the care of a bailiff) from the royal forests, in the summer, to pasture on the luxuriant grasses of the meadows, which were flooded and inaccessible to them in winter. In the time of Harold the walls were so ruinous that the rents of several houses Avere allotted for their repair. It is certain that it was a walled town in the time of the Confessor : King Alfred is stated, on very suspicious authority, to have set his halls infra muros Oxonur; and it is said that long previously the city had both walls and gates. Of these walls there are several interesting remains, the best preserved being in the gardens of New College. The Mayor and Aldermen, accompanied by the city officers, and preceded by the beautiful silver-gilt mace of Charles II., have an annual ceremony of going in procession to trace these walls, and demanding the right of entry into any garden or house that occupies the site of any portion of them. This perambulation still bears the title of " the reparation view," and was doubtless instituted for the purjiose of seeing that the walls were kept in good repair. It forms, at the present time, an interesting memorial of the boundaries of the " old citie within the walles." The moat and trenches may be still accurately traced,* and are generally clothed with ivy — " To gild destruction witli a smile, And beauUt'y decay." It is to the University, however, that Oxford mainly owes its fame ; for centuries it has been — " Tliat faire citle, wliereiu malic abode So many learned impcs, that slioote abrode, And with tlieir brandies siireade all Brittany." Walking through its lanes, and courts, and streets, and reminded at every turn of the sacredness of its history, associated with so much that is great and good — of learning, piety, patriotism, and true courage — the enthusiast is almost tempted to cast his shoes from off his feet, for * Tlie Corporation claim a riglit to refreshment at certain places on the route,— commencing with crawfish and sops in ale at the starting-point, a house in St, Aldate Street, and ending with " Canary wine " at the lodgings of the President^f Corpus. 100 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. the ground on wliicli he treads is holy : \Yhile it is impossible for the mind least instructed or inspired to withhold homage, or to avoid exclaiming with the poet — " Ye spires of O.xlord I d(jmes and towers I Gardens and groves I Your presence overpowers The soberness of reason." The High Street, from the bridge which crosses the Cherwell — the Botanic Gardens on the left, and the fair and honoured college, Magdalen, on the right — to the Carfax Church, at its extremity, is said to be the most beautiful street in Europe ; and, surely, with truth, for the very inequalities of the later-built houses aid the picturesque ; while, on either side, are the interesting and time-honoured structures — University College, Queen's College, All Souls' College, and the richly - adorned Church of St. Mary ; down narrow alleys glimpses are caught, at brief intervals, of New College, St. Peter's Church, St. Mary's Hall, Oriel College, of Corpus, also, and Brazen Nose, the Badcliffe and Bodleian Libraries, " the Schools," Lincoln College, and the great college, Christ Church, in St. Aldate's. The most important and the most interesting of the "new" buildings at Oxford is the Museum ; the necessity of such an addition to the city, and especially to the University, had long been felt — the want was increasing from year to year ; the valuable geological collection of Dr. Bucldand, and the entomological collection of Mr. Hope, were acquisitions that imperatively demanded some fitting accommodation. The work was therefore commenced ; and it was thought desirable to introduce a novelty in architecture. It was determined that, as Oxford is a "Gothic" city, the new building ought to be Gothic, and yet the new style introduced by the Crystal Palace was to be taken advantage of. This has been successfully accomplished by the shell of the building — built in a square — being " English Gothic," while the inner court is glazed over, and converted into a museum. The corridor which runs round this square has the columns made of various English granites, syenites, and other stones likely to be useful in building ; and it is to be ornamented likewise by statues of men distinguished in 2)liysical science. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 101 five of wliicli have been contributed by Her Majesty. Most probably tlie books from tbe Radcliffe Library connected with the physical sciences ■will be transferred to the ncAv building, so that there will be accumulated an almost unique collection of books on these subjects in close proximity to the objects which they describe and illustrate. Without dating the commencement of learning in Oxford so far back as did Geoffrey of Monmouth — a thousand years before the commence- ment of the Christian era — it is asserted that in the ninth century it had become the fountain whence issued many learned clerks, and that among the earliest to endow it was the king j"^^' excellence — King Alfred,* " whose memory shall be always sweeter than honey." The erection of colleges, or houses set apart for students, and for their special accommo- dation, did not, however, commence until the middle of the thirteenth century — students having been previously lodged in various houses of the town. Merton College, Balliol College, and University College, were founded about the same time, between the years 12G4 and 1300; I-lxeter College, Oriel College, Queen's College, and New College, between loll and loSG; Lincoln College, All Souls' College, and Magdalen College, between the years 1130 and IIGO ; Brazen Nose College, Corpus Christi College, and Christ Church, between the years 1507 and 1532; St. John's College, Trinity College, Jesus' College, and "Wadham College, between the years 1555 and IGIO; Pembroke College in 1G20 ; and Worcester College in 1711. There are thus in Oxford nineteen Colleges, and five "Halls," which differ from the colleges only in some unessential forms and privileges. These halls are » The curious little silver penny here engravcil, from the rare original in the Bodleian Library, was coined by King Alfred in the city of Oxford. The letters exhibit all that irregularity which cha- racterizes the early Saxon coinage of England, many of them being upside down, while the O looks more like an ornament than a letter. On one side is the king's name, ALFRED, and above and below it the name of the town, spelt ORSNAFORDA. The other side contains the name of the " moneyer," or person who struck the coin. 102 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. St. Alban, St. Edmund, St. Mary, New Inn Hall, and Magdalen Hall* The Bodleian Library owes its fonndatlon to the munificence of Sir Thomas Bodley, by whom it was commenced at the close of the six- teenth century ; it has been increased by the gifts and bequests of many other benefactors, and also by annual grants of the University. But its principal augmentation Avas by an act of parliament, which ordains that a copy of every new book shall be contributed by the publisher. The library was first opened to the pubhc on the 8th of November, 1G02. Its management is creditable to the liberality of the University; it is freely opened to all applicants who desire its use, and are properly introduced ; and it has thus been made available to men of letters, not only of England, but of all other countries. f * " The University is a corporate body, ' styled and to be styled by none otlier name tlian the Cliancellor, Masters, and Scliolai's of the University of Osford.' It is not, as is often supposed, a mere collection of colleges, nor do the colleges form part of the corporation, though its existence may be said to depend on a union of them. The business of the University is carried on in the two houses of Congregation and Convocation, which are made up of members of tlie University who have obtained the degree of M.A. The duty of the upper house, or Congregation, is principally to pass graces and dispensations, and grant degrees. The power of Convocation reaches to all the affairs of the Univer- sity, though it can only entertain questions sent to it from the Hebdomadal Council, elected by Convo cation, and so named from their meetings being held weekly ; and its power is limited with regard to matters regarding tlie statutes of the University. Yet, wliile these houses are entrusted with such authority, their measures are subject to an absolute veto by the chancellor or vice-chancellor singly, and by the two proctors jointly. The chief officer of the University is the chancellor, who is elected for life, and holds, nominally at least, high powers ; but, actually, these are delegated to the vice- chancellor. According to Oxford etiquette the chancellor, al'tir liis installation, never enters the University, except when he is called upon to receive or accompany any r.jyal visitants. The othce is now an honorary one, and is always conferred upon some eminent nobleman who is already a member of the University. The i-esident head of the University is the vice-chancellor, who is chosen in rota- tion from the heads of houses, and holds his appointment for four consecutive years. He is the chief executive officer of the University, and his position is one of much dignity as well as inipnrtaiR-c. His immediate deputies are the two proctors, also officers of importance. The other UiiiMM-siiy i, Hirers are the professors, and such as are required for carrying out its educaticjnal purposes, willi tlmse necessary for the enforcement of discipline, and the management of its pecuniary concerns. The chief distinction in tlie members of the University is into those ' on the foundation,' and those ' not on the foundation ;' the former consisting of the hearts of houses, or persons liolding college fellowships or scholarships, and receiving from them a certain Income ; those not on the foundation being, on the other hand, such as maintain themselves, while at the University, wholly at their own expense. The distinctiim is pointed out in the term applied officially to the two classes, the one being styled ' dependent,' the other ' independent' members. There is no diflerence in their privileges. All students who matricu- late at tlie University are required to belong to some college." t Sir Thomas Bodley was born at Exeter, in 1544-5, and is, therefore, one of the "worthies of Devon." While yet a child liis t;vmily removed to Geneva, to avoid the persecutions of Queen Mary's reign; but on the accession of Elizabeth they returned to England and settled in London. The youth, who was to be hereafter the illustrious benefactor of Oxford, studied much under the great THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 103 The KadcHffe Libraiy was founded by the eminent physician, Dr. Radcliife, about the middle of the eighteenth century.'^' The lovers of Art have always a special treat at Oxford : the " Univer- sity Galleries" — erected by C. E. Cockerell, E.A. — contain treasures of rave interest and value — chiefly the drawings of Michael Angelo and Raffaelle, collected by Sir Thomas Lawrence ; and the gift of the widow of Sir Francis Chantrey of the busts and monumental figures which were the original models of the accomplished sculptor.f This is a new building — and by no means the only one by which modern architecture preserves the supremacy of the city ; while, from time to time, " restorations" are effected judiciously and liberally. Oxford to the Future will, therefore, be as grand and beautiful as it has been to the Past. Of the once famous Beaumont Palace, built by Henry I., nothing now remains ; its site, however, is indicated by a new street, to which it gives a name. Of ancient structures — made venerable by time and holy by uses — Oxford has, of course, many besides her colleges ; the most interesting of these are the several parish churches, all of them containing venerable relics of times long gone by. Two or three days may be profitably spent in visiting these parish churches. The Church of St. Peter's in the East " lays claim to a higher antiquity than that of early reformers of the Continent; at the age of fourteen or fifteen he was admitted at Magdalen College, becoming Master of Arts in 1566. In the meantime he was elected fellow of Merton College. In 1569 he served the office of Minor Proctor. In maturer age he was employed by Queen Elizabeth in various important offices at home and abroad. In 1597 he "set himself a task," says Camden, " which would have suited the character of a crowned head." He died in liOndon, in 1612-13, in tlie sixty-eighth year of his age, not having lived to see his great project entirely carried out, but having seen " the whole design in a fair way to be fulfilled." * Dr. John Kadcliffe was born at Wakefield, in Yorkshire, in 1050, and was admitted a member of University College at the age of fifteen. Though by no means deficient in classical attainments, ho " recommended himself more by ready wit and vivacity than by any extraordinary acquisitions in learning." In 1682, lie took his doctor's degree in medicine, and in 1684 settled in London, in Bow Street, Covent Gai-den. He acquired wealth rapidly. Several singular anecdotes are recorded of him : when William III. consulted him, a short time before his death, he showed him his swelled legs and ankles, and asked what he thought of them ; " Why," replied the physician, " I would not have your majesty's two legs for your three kingdoms." t " The Taylor Building," as it is generally styled, originated in a large bequest of Sir Robert Taylor, in 1788, "for the erecting a proper edifice, and for establishing therein a foundation for the teaching and improving the European languages." The legacy of Dr. Randolph was to the effect that " a building should be erected for the reception of the Pomfret statues, belonging to the University of Oxford." The two objects were combined in one edifice. 104 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. almost any other ecclesiastical edifice in England:" that of St. Mary the Virgin stands on the site of an ancient chapel of King Alfred ; it contains a fine monument by Flaxman to the memory of Sir William Jones. In St. Michael's Church may be observed " seven or eight dif- ferent periods of construction, though nearly the whole of it is of con- siderable antiquity," the tower being of the eleventh century. All Saints' Church dates no longer ago than 1708, but it occupies the site of one which flourished early in the twelfth century. Of St. Martin's, or Carfax, Church, dedicated to the famous Bishop of Tours, the foundation is of great antiquity — according to Anthony Wood, " beyond aU record ;" the old tower remains, and is said to have been lowered by command ot Edward III., " because upon the complaints of the scholars, the towns- men would in time of combat with them retire there, as to their castle, and from thence gall and annoy them with arrows and stones." St. Peter le Baily was rebuilt in 1710, on the site of a church that is "beyond the reach of any records," and which fell down in 172G, Of St. Aldate's Church the foundation is very remote ; it is supposed to have been British before the settlement of the Saxons or the Danes, the saint whose name it bears being a Briton, who lived about 150. Speed says it was founded or restored, probably rebuilt of stone, being pre- viuusly of wood, in 1001. " The present fabric is composed of many different styles and dates, but is on the whole a venerable structure, deriving additional interest from the comparatively perfect state in which it remains, and the satisfactory account that has been preserved of most parts of the building." St. Ebbe's Church is dedicated to one of the Saxon saints, Ebba, daughter of Ethelfred, King of Northumberland, who died GSo. It was rebuilt ISU, the only remaining part of the old building being the tower, which is of great antiquity, being built of rubble, very massive, and having no staircase. St. Mary IMagdalen is said to have been erected before the Norman Conquest : but of the original church the only portion remaining at all perfect is a semi- circular arch, Avith the zigzag mouldings which divided the nave from the chancel. The Church of St. Giles is among the most interesting churches of the city; its nave, chancel, aiul aisles are of fine architec- THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 105 tural character. The Church of Holywell, that of St. Clement, and that of St. Thomas, though less striking and important than those previously referred to, have each their peculiar attractions, and, as will be readily supposed, the visitor to these interesting churches will be recompensed in many ways; they are crowded with "memorials," all of which speak eloquently of the past, and are suggestive of thoughts in keeping with the impressive solemnity of the venerable city. In several of the streets, also, there are singular relics of old houses. But, as we have stated, to convey anything like a reasonable idea of the attractions of this great city would be to fill a volume of more than "goodly size." For this reason, also — because it would be impossible to do justice to the theme within limited space — we have given fewer illustrations than usual to this part of our work. The establishment of Messrs. J. H, and J. Parker will, however, supply all the information the tourist can need, i;pon every subject concerning M'hich he will require knowledge. We have but named the several colleges and public structures which have made, and make Oxford famous throughout the world ; and give to it importance next to London, and interest second only to that of regal "Windsor : — " Leaving: us heirs to amplest Iieritages Of all the best thoughts of the greatest sages, And giving tongues unto the silent dead." The visitor who goes through and about them will have days of enjoy- ment, not alone because of " old renown," and the memories associated with every step he treads, but as the great intellectual hereafter of the nation. The names that w^ill occur to him are those of England's loftiest worthies : here, apart "from the bustle of resort," they girded on their armour to battle against ignorance, superstition, infidelity ; here, great men of the past, who best " pcnn'd or uttered wisdom" — " Their spirits, troubled with tumaUuous hope, Toil'd with futurity"— drank deep of that holy fountain which gave them strength for life. Here the aristocracy have their full share of glory ; but here the people p 106 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. have just right to i^ride ; — for high among the highest of their country's benefactors are, and ever have been, those who " achieved greatness " imaided and alone.* Rare delight, and ample food for thought, will he obtain who wanders through the streets — where Wolsey walked in triumph, and Shakspere housed in obscurity ; where Laud and Wesley taught ; where liberty inspired Hampden ; Avhere Wicliff planned for .his country freedom of conscience, achieved and kept; where was the chief battle-field of that great contest which threw from England an intolerable burthen ; whence the Reformation spread its light ; and where perished the great three, who, by their deaths, " lit such a candle in England as, by God's grace, hath never since been put out," Here have gathered, fraternized, or fought, great men — from the ago of Alfred to the reign of Victoria : men hostile in politics, opposed in religion, often zealous over much, but earnest, faithful, and unflinching ; however separated by opinion, all labouring in the great cause of human progress — differing only as " one star differeth from another star in glory "__ " their names In Fame's eternal volume live for aye.' " But chiefly the visitor will pause and ponder beside the iron cross which, in the middle of a causeway, marks the spot where bigotry consumed three prelates — Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley; and he will thence make pilgrimage to the " ]\Iartyrs' INIemorial," which a grateful posterity raised as a perpetual reminder that by their heroic deaths they gave vigorous life to that purer faith, which, far above all other things — kings, princi- palities, and powers — makes England a land of liberty.f The " Martyrs' * As old Fuller quaintly says, " It is not tlio least part of Oxford's happiness that a moiety of her founders were prelates wlio had an experimental knowledge of what belonged to the necessities and conveniences of scliolars, and tlierefore liave accommodated tliem accordingly; jirincipally in pro- viding them the patronage of many good benefices, whereby the fellows of those colleges are plentifully maintained after their leaving the University." t It has been ascertained that tlic burning took place a few yards from tlie spot indicated by (lie iron cross in Broad Street. Mr. Parker, wliose numerous publications liave given to Oxford a renown akin to that which it derives from its University, has instituted a close researcli into tlie facts connected witli tliis deeply interesting subject, tlie result of which has been to demonstrate that the fire was lit imme- diately opposite the gateway of Balliol College, over which at that time the master's lodgings were THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 107 Memorial " Avas erected in 184:1, and stands in St. Giles'. It is the work of Messrs, Scott and Moffat; the statues of "The Great Three" having been sculptured by Weekes. It is a fine work of Art, and worthy of tlie city. It was resolved that, as " a general idea," the plan of the " Eleanur Crosses " should be followed ; and of the proffered designs, that of ^Messrs. Scott and Moffat was selected. The first stone was laid on the lUth of May-, 1811 — " the third centenary from that same month in which the whole Bible in English — and that Bible Cranmer's — was first authorized and appointed to be frequented and used in every parish church in England." The purpose of the erection was to "testify a grateful admiration of the pious martyrs who preferred the endurance of a most cruel death to a sacrifice of principle." The following is the inscription on the memorial : — TO THE GLOUT OF GOD, AND IN GRATEFUL COMMEMORATION OF HIS SERVAKTS, THOMAS CRANMER, KICHOLAS RIDLEY, HUGH LATIMER, PRELATES OF THE CHURCH OP ENGLAND, WHO NEAR THIS SPOT YIELDED THEIR BODIES TO BE BURNED, BEARING -WITNESS TO THE SACRED TRUTHS WHICH THEY HAD AFFIRMED AND MAINTAINFU AGAINST THE ERRORS OF THE CHURCH OF ROME, AND REJOICISG THAT TO THEM IT WAS GIVEN NOT ONLY TO BELIEVE IN CHRIST, BUT ALSO TO SUFFER FOR BIS SAKE, THIS MONUMENT WAS ERECTED BY PUBLIC SUBSCRIPTION IN THE YEAR OF OCR LORD MDCCCXLI. It is, indeed, impossible to exaggerate the claims to consideration of stately and learned Oxford ; such is its solemn and impressive grandeur, that even in walking its streets laiighter seems desecration, and haste unnatural. Its very atmosphere is a lure to study ; the " mossy vest of time" is everywhere instructive; the crumblings of its ancient walls tempt to thoughtful repose : even the waters of the Thames are calmer here than elsewhere ; while its many spires are closely, 108 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. and in true glory, linked in happy association ■with the memorable past : — " Amid th' august and never-dying light Of constellated spirits, who have gained A name in heaven by power of heavenly deeds." In cloisters pale, in venerable halls, beneath stately porticoes, in silent galleries, in sombre quadrangles, by solemn altars, in neatly-trimmed gardens, in umbrageous M-alks, — the students think and work : its rare libraries, enriched by the wisdom of ages ; its large assemblages of Art- wonders ; its vast resources of science, — are their daily teachers. Lessons still more valuable are taught by tombs and tablets in their chapel courts ; by quaint windows, that let in " religious light ;" and by statues of pious founders and canonized saints, still speaking from niches they have occupied for centuries, giving emphasis to that memorable text, more impressive here than elsewhere, commingling piety with loyalty — " Fear God I Honour the king!" j\rove where we will in this fair and holy city, we think and feel as of a higher and a better race than the world's ordinary denizens ; while " Tlio attentive mind, By tills harmonious action on her powers, Becomes herself harmonious." We must resume our course ; and, making our way again to Folly Bridge, bid adieu to the fair city, quoting, as we enter our boat, the quaint and homely couplet of the old poet :■ — " He that hath Oxford seen, for beauty, grace. And healthinesse ne'er saw a better place." Folly Bridge was anciently called Grand Pont. Its modern name (modern, althougli dating back 200 years) is derived from the following circumstance. The tower, which stood on the bridge, and had been so long known as " Friar Bacon's Study," being much dilapidated, the city leased it to a citizen named " Welcome," who rei)aired the lower part, and added to it a story, which appears in our engraving. This was called by the neighbours " Welcome's Folly ; " and thus the bridge acquired its new title of " Folly Bridge." The present bridge was built in 1825-7: the architect was Ebenezer Perry. The first erection of a bridge THE BOOK OF THE THAxMES. 109 on this spot is " beyond all authentic record ;" but it is the opinion of our best antiquaries that here a bridge existed so early as the Saxon times. Vi'e are below Folly Bridge, having passed through the lock, -which, as we have intimated, terminates the right branch of the river : there is a fall here of about three feet. The bridge is seen in the annexed view. A tavern, situate on a sort of quay, and a block of warehouses, sufti- FOLLY ekid:;e. ciently mark the locality, but the latter unfortunately interrupts the passage into the street from the beautiful grounds of Christ Church. Christ Church Meadow, with its embowered -'walks," has been famous for ages ; it is the public promenade ; and necessarily here, or at the quay alluded to, boats are always numerous, for this is almost the only place in the vicinity in which there are conveniences for boating. As will be supposed, the boats are of all sorts and sizes, from the huge and elaborately decorated pleasure -barge, to the thin, light rowing boat, that looks like a line upon the water. We must pause awhile to give some description of these conveyances upon the great highway of the Thames, for, from Oxford, the river is of value for passage and traffic. The engraving exhibits two large boats, one of which (that nearest) was 110 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. originally the barge of the Stationers' Company of London ; * it was sold some years ago to Exeter College Club ; the other belongs to the Oxford University Boat Club, and was built expressly for them, from the design of INIr. E. G. Bruton, a distinguished architect of the city. Both are of costly workmanship, the latter being somewhat sombre in style when we saw it, but now, as we learn, richly decorated with colour, and displaying the armorial bearings of all the colleges : the former still flaunting in STATE BARGES. scarlet and gold, although age and use have somewhat tarnished its brilliancy. These "vessels" serve as floating club-liouses, and are well supplied with newspapers, periodicals, and writing materials, and have dressing-rooms for members. They arc not calculated for making voyages, and are rarely released from their moorings. » Tliis Ijargc uscil rc-ularly to jirocccd as far as Lamliutli Palace on the !)(h of November, wlien the Lord Mayor took the oatlis at Westminster, anil it was tlic custom for the Arclibishop to send out wine and refreshments to tlie meml)crs of the Company within it. Tlie custom originated at the beginning of the last century, when a relation of Archbishop Tcnison's, being the master of the Stationers" Coni- ]iany, tlioujrlit it would be an acceptable compliment to call at the palace in full state. The archbishop sent out a pint of wine to each of the thirty. two gentlemen who came ; and so originated the annual custom of calling there, and receiving sixteen bottles of wine from the palace— the Company returning the civility by the presentation of the various AlnianaeUs thev publish. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. Ill For smaller parties, of about twenty or tliirty, Oxford is abundantly supplied with boats, such as that pictured in the accompanying en- graving, and which are known by the name of " house-boats." The interior is a spacious room ; while " the deck " affords opportunities for viewing the scenery and enjoying the pleasant breezes of the river — being furnished with benches for the convenience of such as prefer the THE HOUSE-BOAT. open air, and having a light iron balustrade around. These boats are leisurely towed up and down the river by horses, and are, in fact, largo and broad barges, within which the "house" is constructed, with its windows and gaily painted or gilded panels. Seats surround the interior, and a table, generally bountifully spread, occupies the centre. The traffic barges encountered in this locality are much narrower and more "shapely" than those to be met lower down; necessarily so, to pass through the locks * and weirs, and over parts where the stream is * The old locks were mucli less navigable than those that have been constructed wilhin the last thirty or forty years. In old times it was no uncommon case to be compelled to drug the barge through one of tliem, for which purpose a winch was used. These winches are still found occasionally on the banks of the river, and we thought it worth while to picture one of them. It is of rude construction, with four hands, the rope rolling round the centre as the boat progressed. We believe they are now entirely disused, and are only found in the imme- diate vicinage of deserted locks. They certainly add to the picturesque of the scenery, especially as they are usually found in quiet and retired nooks on the river's banks. 112 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. shallow.'^' The "barge-walk," or towiug-path, is, as we have elsewhere intimated, a path made by the tread of horses, sometimes at one side of the river and sometimes at the other, f according as fewer obstructions occur in the passage. The barges usually carry between thirty and forty tons, and are generally navigated by two men and a boy, a man on shore governing the horses ; two horses are usually employed to draw the barge up the stream, while one suffices for the downward voyage. These barges are usually gaily painted, with a variety of colour and ornament ; beside the steersman is a little cabin, in which he sleeps or cooks his food. The smoke of the fire is frequently seen ascending the small iron funnel in the roof, and occasionally the wives of the bargemen peep forth from the little room where they perform the duties of house- wife ; in some instances linen may be seen hanging to dry, in return boats, in the space occupied by luggage. The latter is generally pro- tected by a canvas awning drawn over a pole along the boat. At sharp turns in the river, the towing-rope is passed round a post, and the man manages the rudder so that when the turn is making the rope is slipped, and the boat pulled as] before. The Thames barge, such as we see it near London, is very different : this we shall describe hereafter. The tax paid by these barges in passing through a lock varies from Is. to 10s., and there are nearly fifty such tolls to pay from London to the entrance of the Thames and Severn Canal, including the weirs, for which Is. Cid. or 2s. each is charged. At the termination of Christ Church ^Meadow occurs the junction of the Cherwell and the Thames : the river so dear to Alma j\Later has its * The largci- barges, sometimes carrying ninety tons, are still used in the district above Oxford, altliont'h rarely, and are called "West-country barges ;" the next size arc called " trows," and averag-o t^fty or sixty tons; and the least, called " worsers," are of thirty, or r.athcr less ; these small boats were first introduced from the Oxford Canal. The antiquity of the West-country barges appears by the following extract from "The Voyage of Mr. John Eldrod to Tripoli, <fec., in 15S3," in which he says—" Having completed all our business at Hasora, I and my companion, William Shales, embarked in company with seventy barks, all laden with merchaudi/.o, every bark having fourteen men to dr.ag it up the river, like our West-country barges on the river Thames, and we were forty-four days in going u]) against the stream to Dagdat." It also ai)pears, from the Thames Acts, that the navigation upwards from Oxford had existed from time iuinicmoiial, notwitlistandiug the great ditriculties to bo encountered. t When the towing-path changes its side (fnr instance, Just this side of Abingdon, at the I'oplars), a ferry-boat conveys the Imrsi'S to (he opposite sidi'. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. n3 source in the Arbury Hills, near .Daventry, in Northamptonsliiro : it enters Oxfurdshire near Claydon, flows past the town of Lanbury, tlirough Islip and several other villages, runs its course of about forty miles (but nowhere navigable), and on its arrival at Oxford surrounds an island appertaining to Magdalen College (where it is crossed by a bridge of great beauty), running beside " Addison's Walk," waters the banks of the Botanic Garden, passing by the side of Christ Church Meadow and its tree -embowered walks, and loses itself in the great river in M^- '"j\ m whose company it journeys to the sea. Our noble old topographer, Camden, takes the opportunity of this locality for an eloquent praise of the city in his " Britannia." He says, ''' Where Cherwell is confluent with Isis, and pleasant aits, or islets, lye dispersed by the sundry dissevering of Avaters, there the most famous University of Oxford sheweth itself aloft in a champion plaine. Oxford, I say, our most noble Athens, the muses -seate, and one of England's stays — nay, the sun, the eye, and the soul thereof, from whence religion, civility, and learning, are spread most plenteously into all parts of the realm. A fair and goodly city, whether a man respect the seemly beauty of private houses, or the stately Q lU THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. magnificence of public buildings, together ^Yith the wholesome site or pleasant prospect thereof. ^Yhence it came to pass that of this situa- tion it was (as writers record) in ancient times called BeUosituin" * The current carries us gently to Iffley lock, distant about two miles — rich flat meadows on either side ; but the landscape receiving grace and beauty from the hills of Shotover, Bagley Wood, and the slope on which stands the fine and very venerable church. The voyager, how- ever, will often look back, for gradually, as we remove from the city, the view gains in interest; the lower houses disappear, while towers, and domes, and spires of churches and colleges rise above the trees, standing out in high relief, backed by the sky. Ifflev is justly considered " one of the finest and most beautiful examples in England of an Anglo-Norman parochial church." It consists of a nave and chancel divided by a tower, forming, indeed, " an interesting school of ancient architecture," affording a series of examples of almost every age and style, and being "accepted" as high and ]»ure ••'authority" by church architects. The date of its foundation is }irobably as far back as the reign of King Stei)hcn, when it was ])uilt by tlie n:riid;s uf Kenilworth ; authentic records ]tr(jve it to have been in existence at the end of the twelfth THE LOOK OF THE THAMES. 115 century ; it has endured with very little change from that far-uft' period to this; and many of its elaborate and beautiful decorations, exterior as well as interior, are now as perfect as they were when they left the hands of the sculptor-artizan. The churchyard contains an aged yew-tree— so aged that no stretch of fancy is required to believe it w\as planted when the first stone of the sacred structure was laid.--' The rectory is in admirable keeping with the church, although of a much later date : also at the adjacent weir is a venerable mill, the successor of that which flourished here so far back as the time of the first Edward. There are consequently few places on the banks of the Thames with so many attractions for the tourist, and its value is enhanced by imme- diate vicinage to Oxford. The river between Oxford and Iffley is very deep, and there are dangerous eddies, where bathers have been sacrificed. It is shallower towards Xuneham ; from whence it is much deeper in its course to Abingdon. Resuming our voyage, Ave pass through tSandford lock, — one of the most picturesque of the many combinations of lock, weir, and mill, — and keeping in view the mansion of Nuneham Courtenay, which crowns the summit of the nearest hill, our boat is soon moored at the pretty landing- place which the artist has pictured on the succeeding page. The interest of these pretty and graceful cottages is enhanced by the knowledge that they exist fur tlie comfort and convenience of pleasure- seekers. Nuneham Courtenay has long been a famous resort of Oxiord students and Oxford citizens ; and seldom does a summer-day go by without a pleasant " loic-nic" upon one of its slopes, amid its umbrageous woods, or within the graceful domicile, erected and furnished, literally, for " public accommodation." * It has been generally stated that yew-ti'ees were planted near churches to supply bow-staves i'ov archers, at a time when archery was much practised, and enforced by law. But the custom is now believed to be much older, and to be a relic of pag-anism ; these trees, being sacred to the dead from a very early period, and therefore especially venerated by the Druids, were adopted by the Romans and Saxons ; hence " the church was brought to the tree, and not the tree to the church," for the eminent botanist, Decandolle, notes that the yews at Fountains and Crowhurst are 1200 years old, while that at Fortingale, in Scotland, is believed to be 1400 years of age. 116 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. There are few " homes " in England more ausiiicionsly located ; and hap]iily it has ever been the wish of its successive lords to share, as widely as possible, witb " their neighbours " the bounties which Nature and Art have here associated to bestow upon " house and lands." Long may the present estimable gentleman who OAvns the fair mansion and beautiful demesne find imitators in his successors ! for the example of his illustrious predecessors has been continued during his honourable life. It is not too much to say that Mr. Harcourt and his lady * make annually * Frances, Countess of Waldcgravc, tlie oliarming and acoomiilished danghtcr of the late John Braham, Esq. Mr. Harcourt is the son of Uio late Archbishop of York, who su?ci'cdcd to tlio Harcourt estates, and assumed the name of Harcourt— Vernon-IIarcourt— on failure of tlu male lino. At the Domesday sui vey, Nuneham Courtcnay belonged to Richard de Curci ; it afterwards passed to the Eiparys or Iledvcrs. Mary, youngest daughter of William de Redvers, Earl of Divon (surnamed do VernoTi), married Robert de Comteuay, IJaron of Okenhampton, in Devon. Probably by this mar- riage the manor of Nuneham passed into the family of Courtenay. The PoUards, of Devonshire, next succeeded to the p issossion ; from thom it passed to Audlcy, of tlio Court of Wards, called "the rich Audley." From him it passed to Robert Wright, Bishop of Lichfield, whose son, Calvert Wright, sold It to Jolm Itobinson, merchant of London, in the time of Oliver Cromwell. From the Robinsons it descended to David, Earl of Wemyss, who married Mary, daughter and co-heir of sir Jolm Kobinson, Bart., of whom it was purchased, in tlie year 1710, by Simcui, first Lord Harcourt, Lord Hijh Chan- cellor of ]':iiglaud. We have shown, in treating of Stanton Harcourt, that tlie seat of this ancient family was changed at the pi'ri'.d of this purchase. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 117 tens of tliousands of persons liappy, and hence derive their own chief happiness. To describe the house and grounds of Xuueham Courtenay would demand a volume, and to do so is foreign to our purpose. The former is full of interesting portraits, with many line pictures by the great old masters. The portraits are principally those of the personal friends of the Chancellor Harcourt — the poets of his time, who were his frequent guests and companions. The house is, however, less conspicuous for architectural display than for domestic rpiiet. It is upon the grounds that taste and wealth have been expended : and they conrbine, in the happiest manner, beauty with grandeur, "While Xature has been lavish of her bounties. Art has been employed everywhere to give them due effect. Open glades, solitary walks, graceful slopes, a spacious park, fruitful gardens — in short, all that can attract and charm in English scenery is here gathered ; and it is scarcely too much to say that the demesne — taken altogether — is unsur- passed in England.* From the heights there is an extensive view of the adjacent country for many miles around. Oxford, with its domes and sj^ires, and the venerable church of Iftley, the woods of Blenheim, the town of Abing- don, the hills of Buckinghamshire, the green hill-downs of Berkshire, the historic Chilterns,f Faringdon Hill, with its dark crown of trees, which gives it the local name of "Faringdon Clump;" in short, on all * In the grounds is a "new" church, built in a style semi-Greek, by no means agreeable or impres- sive. The old church was taken down by Simon Lord Harcourt, and the present structure erected in 1764 after a design of his own, which was slightly corrected by Stuart. " It affords a memorable instance of tlie taste of that age, of wliich it was the misfortune that those persons who wore the most liberal and desirous to serve the church, and who, for their private virtues, were mist worthy of praise, were precisely those who did the most mischief. The fault was that of the ago, not of the individual."' Happily, in our own times, a far better and holier spirit prevails : our uosv churches have generally all the advantages they can receive from Art, rightly directed and rightly applied. t These hills are a chalky range, which cross Buckinghamshire, and reach from Tring in Hertford- shire to Henley in Cxfordshire. The district is crown land, and the steward is consequently an officer under the crown ; but the position gives neither honour nor emolument, and is assigned to members of Parliament who wish to vacate their seats. In this way the stewardship has been granted to several members in one week; and the position is understood on all sides as a legal fiction, and one of tlio curiosities of our old parliamentary system. 118 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. sides are presented objects tlicat add value to tlie fair demesne, while the winding Thames is ever present to refresh the eye that, withdrawn from distance, seeks the beauty that U more immediately at hand. CARFAX CONDCIT. On one of the slopes that ascend dlrectlj- from the river stands the ancient and far-famed "Carfax Coxouit," which formerly stood as "a kind of central point" to the four principal streets of Oxford. Certain alterations requiring its removal, it was, with " most perfect propriety," THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 119 presented to the Earl Harcourt. It was built, in 1610, by Otho Nicholson, — a liberal and enteri^rising gentleman, — in order to supply the city with pure water, brought from a hill above North Hinxsey ; and although the conduit is removed the pipes still remain, and afford a I^artial supply, likely to be superseded l>y the new City "Waterworks. It is a square, decorated in accordance with the taste of the time — mermaids, " holding combs and mirrors," and dragons, antelopes, unicorns, being scattered about ; while the Empress Maud is introduced riding an ox over a ford — "in allusion to the name of the city." The letters 0. N., the initials of the founder, are conspicuous ; while above the centres of the four arches are the cardinal virtues — Justice, Temperance, Fortitude, and Prudence. It is, however, we repeat, from the spacious grounds of Xuneham that the visitor will derive especial enjoyment : — •' Society is all too rude To tills delicious solitude ; Where all the flowers a:id trees do close To weave the garland nf repose," — so says one of the many tablets scattered lavishly about the parlc, gardens, and walks ; they were written " fur the occasion,"' chiefly by the poets Mason and Whitehead — poets famous in their day, and for a day. The lines we quote, however, are borrowed from a loftier sjtirit— Andrew ^larvel : ha]i})ily, as we have intimated, the sentiment is not altogether adopted by the generous owner of these beauties, who gives liberal ingress to all comers, to whom '"society" seems ever welcome, when it comes on holiday from thought and toil, and who has learned from a hundred brave and honourable ancestors, that the surest way to be ha]q)y is to make others liajqiy. The fine trees of Nuneham hang luxuriantly over the river — it is a perfect wealth of foliage piled on the rising banks. Tliis scenery con- tinues until we reach the modern railway bridge, when, on the right bank of the stream, Eadley House is descried : another turn of the river, past this demesne, and the spire of Abingdon comes in view. Between Nuneham Courtenay and Abingdon the river winds so much. 120 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. that when we reach this ancient town we are nearly opposite to Oxford, distant about six miles. About half a mile from Abingdon the Thames divides into two parts, the eastern portion leaving the main stream at right angles, and going to Culham Bridge, and the western going to Abingdon ; the eastern part was the navigable stream from Oxford to London in the time of James I., and the old lock is still remaining, but blocked up. 'We have already quoted an extract from " The Chronicon " relating to the eastern part ; and the following, relating to the western, occurs at the commencement of the volume. : — " IMons Abbendone ad septeutrionalem plagam Tamese fluvii, ubi prtetermeat pontem Oxene- fordis urbis situs est ; a quo monasterio non longe posito idem nomeu inditum." Abingdon is one of the most ancient towns of the kingdom ; it stands near the junction of the little river Ocke (wliich rises in the Vale of DISTANT VIEW OF ABINGDON CnUKCII. White Horse)^'" with the Thames, and although now a place of small importance, has played a conspicuous part in many of the most stirring events of British history. A legendary tale thus describes its origin : — » This vale takes Us name from an enormous reiiresentation of a horse cut in the side of the challv hills. This singular figure lias existeil there from time immemorial. It is rude in character; but, inasmuch as that character is precisely similar to the figures of horses on ancient British coins, it is believed to be equally ancient. It has long been the custom of the peasantry to clear it of weeds, and generally to restore it, at certain seasons of the year. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 121 " At a time when the wretched pagan Hengist basely murdered -iGO noblemen and barons at Stonhengest, or Stonehenge, Aben, a noble- man's son, escaped into a wood, on the south side of Oxfordshire, where, leading a most holy life, the inhabitants of the country flocking to him to hear the word of God, built him a dwelling-house and a chapel in honour of the Holy Virgin ; but he, disliking their resort, stole away to Ireland, and from him the })lace where he dwelt is called Abingdon.""' It is hardly necessary to state that this derivation is incorrect, and that the name is purely Anglo-Saxon. We give the legend as an example of the fanciful interpolations in early history by the elder chroniclers. The old hospital at Abingdon is founded on the site of the monastery dedicated to the Holy Cross and St. Helena, by Cisa, sister of the king of the West Saxons, in the seventh century : this religious founda- tion having gone to decay, a hospital was erected in its place by a rich merchant, in the reign of Henry V., named Geoffry Barbour ; in the reign of Henry VIII. this and other charitable institutions in con- nexion with the church were forfeited to the Crown ; and the Abbot of Abingdon, being one of the first to acknowledge the king's supremacy, was rewarded for such subserviency by the gift of the Manor of Cumnor, and a pension of £200 a year for his life. Sir John jMasou, in the reign of Edward VI., bestirred himself to restore the charity, and in the year 1553 it was re -endowed, and named Christ's Hospital. It then accommodated thirteen poor men and women ; the number is now thirty -two. The old almshouses partially surround the churchyard of Abingdon. They are provided with a covered cloister, leading to each door. Our engraving exhibits the central entrance, with the cupola above the old hall. Over this gate are a series of old paintings, all allusive to works of charity; and in the hall are many curious portraits of benefactors, the principal being the youthful Edward VI. holding a « " Abingdone " (says Lelaml in liis " Itinerary ") " stands on Uie right side of the Isis, and was of very old time called Seukesham, since Abcndune."' 122 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. charter with the great seal appended, by Avhich the hospital was foi;nded. There is also a painting of the building of the bridges over the Thames, which first gave Abingdon importance, as they occasioned the high road from Gloucester to London to be turned through this town. Burford Bridge was near the town, and Culham Bridge about half a mile to the east of it. Before they were erected, in 14:l(),the fords here were very dangerous, and the road turned to Wallingford to avoid them. The merchant Barbour, feeling the import- ance of these bridges to the town, gave one hundred marks toward them ; and Leland says three hundred men were employed at once upon them at the rate of a penny per day ; which Hearne the an- tiquary observes was " an ex- traordinary price in these times, when the best wheat was sold for twelvepencc per rpiartor." Another curious picture of a local antiquity is painted on the exterior wall of the hospital, opposite the Thames : it is a view of the cross which formerly stood in the town, and was destroyed by Waller's army in ^May, Id 14, in revenge for his repulse at Newbridge. Holy things are tlicso almshouses — holy and l)oautiful records of the thoughtful royal heart of one who, young in years, seemed aged in wisdom and goodness. We looked on theni with more than common interest, having heard of them in our childhood; they hud been, indeed, long associated \\ith one of the hapjiiest of our "memories." In very earlv life we knew a kind and beautiful French woman, who, in her full TUE ALMSHOUSES AT ABIXG THE BOOK OF THE THAMES, 123 soft voice — her French accent Ihigering round the vowels — tokl ns a story of an inmate of one of those very cottages, which bound them by romance, as well as reality, to our heart. Now this is her story : — During the reign of terror in France, one of the first lady-refugees who sought shelter in Loudon we shall call Madame la Marquise de ITiordeau. She had contrived to bring over to England a large sum in jewels and valuables as well as in money ; she was neither old nor young, but handsome, and a widow. Madame la jMarquiae Avas very proud, and very benevolent ; she was proud even among the proud : she could not bear to abate one jot or tittle of her state, — she exacted a deference of word and manner from all around her, which acted as a perpetual restraint on her dearest and most intimate friends. f>lie would have servants and liveries exactly as she had them when resident in Paris ; and yet she was perpetually receiving and relieving those less fortunate emigrants who had literally nothing, and many of whom on their first arrival were found fainting from hunger on the door-steps of our English homes. Madame's hand never seemed Aveary of giving — it was outstretched continually and liberally ; people began to speculate as to what her income really was ; for to live and act ea pruicc, as regarded personal expenditure, and at the same time to relieve the needy numbers Avho came to her for aid, required the produce of a golden mine. There were one or two of Madame's intimate friends as stately, but not as charitable, — and more wise than herself, — who remonstrated, and told her that in time she would be obliged either to give up her domestic exj^enditure, or to ''cease to do good." She told them somewhat hotly, and with an increased elevation of her superb head, that she could not forget the duty she owed her buried lord ; that Avhilc she bore his honoured name, she must maintain its dignity ; and that as to giving, she could never see her countrymen in want, and not share with them the last crumb of bread she had in the world. All her friends were thus discouraged from further counsel ; all save one — a little earnest, honest banker (bankers in those days loere honest and of good repute) ; he placed before her in black and white the state 124; THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. of her affairs, telling her plainly that if she did not give less, or expend less, she would soon be ruined — be perfectly and entirely unable to do either the one or the other. More than once, when she urged that it was from respect to her husband's memory alone she maintained her state, the straightforward man of business told her she was self-deceived, that she herself delighted in the splendid show; that it was a source of intense gratification to her; that if it were not so, she would soon change her plan; that she imagined she was devoted to two duties, whereas it Avas simply a fancy and a duty ; that if her love of her desolate and heart-broken countrymen were sincere, she would sacrifice her pomp to a stronger and more elevated feeling. Everybody wondered how the Englishman had mustered sufficient courage to speak in such a way to Madame, and still more wondered how or why she endured it — she, so haughty, so resolved, yet so generous, so warm-hearted, so sympathising. The cry was still, '' they come ! " — emigrants swarmed everywhere 1 Madame felt herself overwhelmed. There were the footman, the groom of the chambers, the page— such a delicious imp I all embroidery, and satin, and curls, and perfume— so different from the boots and broadcloth of a modern " buttons," — there were the companion and the hon pire, — all that iMadame had enjoyed in her own land — except the income. She was living, and causing others to live, upon her goods and chattels. The banker entreated her to tli'uih. Now, Madame encouraged feehng more than thinking ; but it became evident to her friends that frerpiently and painfully thoughts would force themselves upon her. On one side was the expenditure necessary, she honestly believed, to do honour to her liusband's memory as long as she bore his name ; — and there were her fellow- emigrants I It was observed that the banker called more often upon IMadame, and that IMadame daily and hourly became more thoughtful, lie was heartl more than once, as he descended the stairs, muttering to himself, '"Noble woman I noble woman 1" MadameVywH?- de fete was at hand: numerous presents were }>reparcd fur her, and scores of emigrants whom she liad succoured made ready their little gifts as tokens of their gratitude and love. On the eve of the day, both the banker and the hon plrc spent many hours with IMadame, and when THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 125 they left, slie desired to remain alone during tlie remainder of the evening. My friend remembered being taken by lier mother that very evening to visit her beloved countrywoman ; she also remembered being sorely disappointed at not seeing her — Madame was so lavish to her young visitors of caresses and ho)i-hons. Her mother promised to take her the next morning, that she might have the honour to present to Madame a bouquet of pure white lilies. Betimes in the morning, my old friend was up, hoping she might be the first to offer the lilies of France to her mother's countrywoman. How beautiful they looked I how delicious their perfume 1 how often her handsome nose was tipped with orange from the farina of the flowers 1 and how often her mamma scolded her in pure French and broken English, because she Avas stealing the fra- grance from Madame's lilies ! It was a beautiful morning towards the middle of June when they reached the corner of the street in which Madame resided ; they saw a crowd on the pavement, and my friend remembered that she burst into tears, because even the milk-girl had brought a bouquet of lilies to INIadame ! — every third or fourth hand grasped a bunch of lilies ; but as they drew nearer, they saw that dismay, astonishment, and disappointment were painted on every face I Madame was gone 1 they should see her no more ! — nobody would see her any more I She was gone for ever ! She had left all she possessed in the world — except the smallest possible sum, which some said she would soon bury with herself in a convent — to be divided among the emigrants according to the judgment of the banker and the lonpcre. Poor lady I she could resign, but not diminish, her pomp. She re- solved to gild her liusband.'s name even at the last with the refined gold of charity ; and when she had no longer means to keep up state, and minister to those who needed, she made her choice, leaving " all her goods to feed the poor I" It made a great sensation at the time. Every- thing was sold — turned into gold ; and the sum so realized was some- thing fabulous — at all events, it saved hundreds from misery, and gave them the happy feeling that one of their own people had done this I My friend grew from a child into a girl, and was married, and, soon 126 THE BOOK OP THE THAMES, after the birtli of a daiigliter, went abroad witli her husband, Avho was killed by an accident. She returned to England, and after the lapse of five or six years married again. Her second wedding tour was taken along the banks of the Thames, — there was so much she wanted to see in her own country, — Hampton Court, and Richmond, and Kew, and "Windsor, and Runnymede, and Oxford ; and King Edward's Almshouses were more talked about, and visited, and sketched then than they are now, for the continent at that time was closed against us. As they drove up to Abingdon, a funeral was in the very act of passing a\Aay from one of the dwellings ; but it was not like the "removal" of the poor widow of an English tradesman. The coffin had neither name nor ornament, but it was covered with black velvet. There were no pall- bearers, but it was lifted into a hearse, and two very old gentlemen — old, feeble men, each tottering, yet each supporting the other — brought a host of bewildering memories to my friend, for she could not tell whence they came, or who they belonged to. The old gentlemen in elaborate mourning cloaks, and scarfs, and hatbands, got into a mourn- ing coach, and the hearse and its attendants disappeared among the trees. The w indows of those usually calm almshouses were filled with aged faces, and all Avore the expression of intense sorrow. Many were weeping bitterly. An aged woman stood at the door from which the coffin had been removed ; she was dressed in well-AVorn mourning, and looked through floods of tears after the procession — so earnestly, that my friend asked if the departed was to be buried in the churchyard. " Xo," she sobbed; "and that's one of our griefs. Not one of us who loved her so, and to whom ^he was as an angel, shall ever see a blade of grass, or a bud or blossonij on her grave : it would have been some consolation to know that her dust would mingle with ours, and that we should rise together : but she's gone as she came." A few more words, and the good dame invited the strangers into the house. From nothing, poor soul, could she derive consolation except sympathy : and my friend's tears and smiles ever flowed or beamed with those who wejit and those who smiled. "There's no harm in tullin^- the truth now," said the woman ; "'and, THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. indeed, I hope to see it on a tablet in the church some day ; thank God, it's a beautiful truth to tell: — and though she toas a Papist, there's no living soul more sorry for her this blessed day than our own parson. Poor dear lady I she would never go inside our church during service, but every summer Sunday, when the sun shone, and the dew was not heavy on the grass, I used to cany a high chair, and place it under the shadow of the ivy, close to the window that's nearest the pulpit, and she would throw her fair white shawl over her snowy cap, and making a trumpet of her hand so, — for latterly she became deaf, — sit with it to her ear ; and not a word that passed from our good parson's lips escaped her." "You call her a lady — and she was a Roman Catholic, I suppose?" observed my friend; "how was that? — This foundation is for the Pro- testant widows of decayed tradesmen." " I am a Protestant widow," replied the woman, " and Madame lived chiefly with me. Mr. Gresham, the banker, who knew me and mine all our lives, got me the presentation, and here I have been more than twenty-eight years. One of those gentleman was iMr. Gresham, the other is a M. ]\Iercier, her clergi/ — ' " And her name," exclaimed my friend, " was Piiordeau ?" "I did not tell you — how did you know?" inquired the astonished woman. The long past was soon explained ; and then the woman tuld how that, finding she could not continue to keep up her state and exercise her benevolence, and not having sufficient courage to brave the appearance of changed fortunes, she sacrificed herself and gave up all she possessed, except the pittance we have mentioned, to relieve the distresses of her countrymen. " Mr. Gresham, who managed all her affairs," continued our informant, "told me that a worthy person (he did not say lady) wished for country air and quiet, and would live with me for a month or two, until arrange- ments could bo made to enable her to go into a convent. When she came — I know what ladies are, and could see she was no 'person' — I loved to tend her, and it was wonderful how, after a week or two, her heart opened, so that everything got into it — children and old people. 128 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. flowers (how she did love them, especially violets and lilies), birds, animals. She would have nothing to do with the gentry, except that she wished me to sell those beautiful artificial flowers and embroideries she used to make ; and as fast as the money came (and the gentry would give any price she pleased to ask) it went among the poor. If her purse was empty, her spirits sank directly ; if it was full, no bird on a bush was ever happier. I heard nothing of the convent, though the gentleman she called her hon pere used to come and see her every two or three months. After having been here five or six years, she permitted our parson to call on her, and, according to duty, I know, he offered to read or pray with her ; and she told him haughtily she could do the one for herself, and the hon pere attended to the other. Two or three years elapsed before he saw her again, and then they got on kindly together until the last. She never told any one who she was, or why she came here ; she denied herself all earthly pomp and state, and all for charity. God bless her I Oh I how she loved these walls; she loved this little home, so mute and peaceful. She was as humble as a mole with the poor, but, dear lady, if any of the gentry came about her, she would put them away with a bend of her head, as if she was an empress. She sacrificed her all to charity. She had a great idea, I think, of going- back to her own land, and thought her estates would be returned; I do not know ; and when this illness came on her, she would pray that she might be permitted to see her country before she died. They will carry her there, I know, though I think her spirit, if it is permitted, Avill often wander about King Edward's Almshouses." That is our old friend's story. From Abingdon the Thames pursues its course with little to attract the tourist until we arrive at the ferry of Clifton, over which hangs a small hill, the summit of which is crowned by one of the most graceful and beautiful modern churches in England. Before Ave visit it, however, let us pause awhile to enjoy the calm quiet of the scene; to examine the luxuriant water-plants, and listen to the music that issues from every " bush and bosky dell," and not unfre- quently from the borders of the stream on which we glide. THE BOOK OF THE THAME?. 129 The chorus of lively chirpings that greets our ear from the neighbour- ing reed-beds, proceeds from those little aquatic songsters, the Sedge- Avarbler {Salicaria phragmitcs), and the Reed-warbler {Salicaria arundinacea), two / birds closely related in appearance and habits, and generally to be found in com- pany in reedy spots by the water-side, utter- ing their varied chant, the programme of which comprises imitations of the notes of __ the swallow, lark, sparrow, and linnet, with some original bits of their own. AVe append a cut of the Reed -warbler — the larger bird of the two, with its curiously constructed and situated nest, suspended between three or four reed-stems above the water, formed of reeds and gi'ass, wound round and inter- laced witli tlie supporting stems, and lined witli a little wool, fine grass, and long liairs ; it is made of considerable depth — a neces- sar}^ provision for the safety of the eggs or young, when it is considered that, from its suspended situation, their cradle is rocked b}' every breeze, and in a high wind the slender reeds that support it bow almost to the surface of the water : yet the mother bird has been seen to sit steadily in her nest when it was swinging and dipping with the violence of the wind-gusts, so as occasionally to be almost immersed in the water. This elegant little warbler is of somewhat sombre colouring, being brown above and buft" beneath, with white throat, and is one of our summer visitants only, — remaining in tliis country from April to September, when it seeks a warmer latitude,- — its insect food becoming very scant as winter approaches. Those who row up or down the Thames, or walk along its ever-pleasant banks, have, therefore, a source of enjoyment which inland dells and woods do not afford, for the notes of these birds, even if THE HEED-WARBLER. • Sounds inharmonious in tliemselves and liarsh," S 130 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. give exceeding pleasure Avhen in keeping with the character of the scene, and in harmony with those " gentler solitudes " which create tranquil joy — " Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilarate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid nature." The common river Crayfish {Astacus fluviatilis), which abounds in the Thames (and " its tributaries") for the greater part of the course, is frequently brought to market as an article of food, but is not held in much esteem. In general ap- pearance it greatly resembles a small lobster, but on comparing the two together considerable dif- ference in structure will be ob- served, the body of the crayfish being flatter than that of the lob- ster, and the claws being rougher, THE cRAYiisD. ^^^^ ^f ^ (jig^jnct form. The colour of this animal is a dull, dark, greenish grey, and its usual length about three or four inches. The principal food of the crayfish consists of aquatic shell -fish, the grubs of insects, and sometimes even of such small fish as come within their reach. The following amusing and graphic account of the habits of this species in confinement was communicated by Mr. liall, a naturalist of Dublin, to Professor I'ell, from whose work on " Ih'itish Crustacea" we quote it: — "I once had a domesticated crayfisli (Astarns Jirn-!at!J!»), wliich I ke]it in a glass pan, in water not more than an inch and a half deep — previous experiments having shown that in deeper water, probably for want of sufficient aeration, this animal would not live long. By degrees my prisoner became very btiUk and wlien I held my fingers at the edge of the vessel he assailed tlicm Avith promiitncss and energy. About a year after \ had him I perceived, as I thought, a second crayfish with him ; on examination I found it to be his old coat, which he had left in a mo.-^t ])crfect state. ls\\ friend had now lost his heroism, and fiuttcred about in the greatest agitation. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 131 He was quite soft, and every time I entered tlie room, during tlie next two days, he exhibited the wildest terror. On the third he appeared to gain contidenee, and ventured to use his nippers, though with some timidity, and he was not yet (|uite so hard as he had been. In about a week, however, he became bokler than ever ; his weapons were sharper, and he appeared stronger, and a nip from him was no joke. He lived in all about two years, during which time his food was a very few worms, at very uncertain times ; perhaps he did not get fifty altogether. I presume some person, presuming to poach in his pond, was pinched by him, and plucked him forth, and so, falling, he came by his death." During our visit to Oxford, a thoughtful friend furnished the breakfast- table with the crayfish, which is there considered a luxury " in season" — the season being the autumn of the year. Although frequently eaten on the Continent, it is but seldom used in England, even as the garnish- ing of a dish. T^ike the lobster, it is dark — almost black — when alive, but becomes red when boiled. In several parts of the river, and especially in the neighbourhood of Binsey, above Oxford, the fish is obtained in large quantities ; these are caught in traps resembling the common eel-traps, but much smaller ; they are formed of common willow-wands, and are baited with animal matter, or with dead fish. We were gratified by finding in great profusion near Abingdon that most elegant aquatic, the Flowering Kush {Bntomus umhcllafus), clumps of which were constantly occurring where the water was shallow, either at the river-side, or in spots where the ground approached the surface in mid-stream. It is a lordly plant, with its graceful stem rising from the water some three or four feet, bearing on its head a crown ot purple and white flowers— a " bunch" of consideroable size. The long grassy leaves, which diverge in sweeping curves from its foot, add KLOWERING RL'SU. 132 TUE BOOK OF THE THAMES. greatly to its beauty. Those who have seen this charming pLant will agree with the eulogiuni of quaint old Gerard, who, describing it in his Herbal, saith : — " The Water Gladiole, or Grassie Rush, is of all others the fairest and most pleasant to behold, and serveth very Avell for the decking and trimming up of houses, because of tlie beautie and braverie thereof."' It is by no means common to all the banks along the Thames. ^Ye voyaged many miles on several occasions, and sought for it in vain, finding it in great luxuriance in the river Tame, between Dorchester and the junction. It rescudjles, however, so nearly the common rush when not in blossom, tliat the unscientific searcher might easily pass it by without recognition. It is singular that while so many efforts have been made to transfer to (he greenhouse and garden the exotics — weeds — of foreign countries, we have so much neglected the wild graces which await, at our own doors, that removal for culture which expands and extends beauty. I'^ven in the miniature lakes which so often refresh an " elegant demesne," or in the pools that so frequently act as drains to a lawn or plantation, and are made '■ ornamental," that the eye may be gratified by con- verting a blot into a grace, we too generally observe that Nature is lel\ to plant as she pleases, while a little aid brought to her from one of her rich stores of fertility and beauty, might essentially add to its other attractions. The walls and woodwork of the old locks are beau- tifully decorated with groujjs of graceful plants that would altogether form choice studies for the Pre- Ivapluielite painter. Perhaps the most elegant of these is the Ivy-leafed Snapdragon {Liiiaria ci/mhalaria), a pendent plant, with glossy, deep green, ivy -like leaves, and quaintly formed flowers of violet colour, with yellow throat. It appears this is not strictly an iniligeiious plant, but that it was originally introduced from Italy into our gardens, from which it has escai)ed and naturalised itself through KI) SNAfDIiACON. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 133 the country, having now become as thoroughly English as any family that came in at the Conquest. From Oxford to Teddington we are continually meeting with the flowery festoons of this pretty plant, wherever old stonework is found in proximity to the water : we may suppose seeds of it have, in old times, escaped from some Oxford garden washed by the Thames, and, having been carried downwards by the stream, were deposited in convenient resting-places along the river's course. This will account for the abundance of the plant on the line of the Thames, while iu most other districts it is hardly ever met with. It will be obvious that from these water-plants the designer of orna- ment may obtain very valuable lessons ; it is indeed surprising that as yet they have been but little resorted to for the purpose of the manu- facturer, or of those artists to whom he gives special employment. He will find witliin the range of any single mile on the upper Thames a number of valuable suggestions, any one of which would be a " fortunate thought," — for it would have the value of novelty, inasmuch as subjects to be obtained there have been hitherto made so little available. On the floating leaves of the water-plants, or among the moist herbage of the river-side, we constantly find a curious little shell — the Amber- shell (^Succinca amplilbia) — i tenanted by an odd -looking little creature of amphibious habits, who, though born in the water, and passing much of his existence there, has the faculty of leaving that element at pleasure, and wandering to considerable distances from it without injury : we observed it sometimes high up on tl plants, quite removed from the water. The shel A51BER-SUELL. stems of is very fragile and transparent, of a clear amber tint, whence its name of " Amber-shell." Many of the fresh-water shells, of which a great number of species inhabit the Thames, are of elegant forms ; and the habits of the animals 134 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. that occupy them render them extremely interesting objects fur the aquarium, where their history may be studied to great advantage ; moreover, a colk^ction of these shells would make a pretty addition to the cabinet. Before we reach the little church of Clifton Hampton, we pass the village of Sutton Courtenay and Culham — the former with a modern, the latter with an old church ; both are towered and embattled, and have a picturesque effect. They are situated about two miles from Abingdon, the river flowing the whole way through meadows of the richest luxuriance, their banks covered with wild flowers. A mile bejond this, the iad\\ay cios^Cb the ii\ti at the ^illa_;e of Ajqiktdid. CLIFTO:* UAMI'TON CUUHCII, AND 1 ElUU'. Xo }>art of England can display more secluded pastoral scenery than is hei'c met with ; the utmost abundance seems to crown every orchard and garden. The county is agreeably diversifled with wood and water; the banks of the river rise to a considerable elevation, and upon their summits many graves of the early IJoman and Saxon settlers have been discovered. .Vt Long ^Yhittenham, close liy, — a quiet village embosomed in trees, — some fine Anglo-Saxon jewels have been exlmmed."'-' The * Tlie liill aljovc Long Whittciihaiu has oartlnvurks of an early Uhid ui.ou it, lifliuveii to be tlie woi-k of tlic Uoiiiaiis. U U certain that these early conquerors of Hritaiii wei'e loeated here, iii.asniuch as THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 135 scenery is purely pastoral, but is relieved by gently undulating hills. Upon one of the boldest stands the new church of Clifton — for it is a new church, although externally and internally the architect has followed the best models of the best periods of church architecture : it occupies the site of the ancient structure; indeed, the foundations, and some portions of the walls, have been preserved. It is a most attractive and graceful object seen from the river, and will bear the closest examina- tion, for every part of it has been confided to the care of a competent artist ; and all its ajipurtenances are s as perfect as Art can make them. The village, too, is neat, well-or- dered, and evidently prosperous. Over the whole district there is evidence of wise and generous super- intendence ; the clergyman is, we believe, the scpiire, and it is obvious that the temporal as well as the spiritual wants of the district have a generous and considerate minister.--' A handsome lich-gate of carved oak has been placed at the entrance of the churchyard, adding much to the picturesque beauty of the scene. From the tower of this church, raised as it is so much above the surrounding scenery, we obtain a noble view of now distant Oxford ; and here, especially, we are impelled to recall the lines of the poet ^^'arton : — '■ Ve fretted pinnacles, y /• iaues sublime, Yo towers that wear th;' uossy vest of time; l.lClI-GATp;, CLIFTON. many anliquities, unmistakeably Roman, have been found in the immediate vicinity, and several of tlieir burial-places discovered, from which vases, coins, &c., were obtained. * " A small church, of mixed styles, beautifully situated on a cliff, at a bend of the river Thames. It has been restored under the direction of Mr. Scott, the architect, in extremely good taste, by the present patron, Mr. Henry Ilucks Gibbs, in pursuance of the wishes of his father, the late Mr. George Henry Gibbs, with whom the design of restoring the church originated, and who left by will a con- siderable sum for this object." ("Guide to the Architectural Antiiiuitics in the neighbourhood of Oxford." Parker.) 136 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. Ye massy piles of old munificence, At once the pride of learning and defence ; Ye cloisters pale, that, lengthening to the sight, To contemplation step by step invite : Ye high-arch'd walks, where oft the whispers clear Of harps unseen have swept the poet's ear ; Ye temples dim, where pious duty pays Her holy hymns of ever-echoing praise ; Lo ; your loved Isis, from the bord'ring vale. With all a mother's fondness bids you hail .' Hail : Oxford, hail : " After passing Clifton tlie hills to the right are somewhat bold in character, and we see more distinctly the picturesque formation of the Long Whittenham range : they are round, chalky hills, with clumps of trees on their summits. We now pass by Little Whittenham Church, embosomed in luxurious trees, and the fine, woody hills beside Day's lock, where the river makes a circuit, passing, as usual, between low and luxui'iant banks on either side, where the bay harvest is ever abundant, Itut where the husbandman will rarely look for any other crop, inasmuch as the land is covered with water in winter floods.""' We approach Wallingford, but within a mile or two of this town the voyager will pause at a narrow bridge, about twenty feet in length, which crosses a poor and somewhat turgid stream. The tourist would row by it unnoticed, as of " no account," but that he knows this to bo the famous river Tame, and that here it joins the Thames — or, if the fanciful will have it so, "the Isis;" this being the marriage-bed of the two famous rivers, who licnce forward become one ; for from this spot, according to the poet, — " Straigiit Tamisis stream, Froud of the late addition to its name, Flows briskly on, ambitious now to pay A larger tribute to the sovereign sea." Although most of the poets have described " Tame" as of the rougher. * " Tradition has given to this place (Little Whittenham) an intellectual importance which heightens, at least, if it does not transcend, its native beauties. Here an oak had long flourished— and hard was his heart who suffered the axe to strike it— beneath whose shade Frior is said to have composed his poem of ' Henry and Emma.' The poet has described this spot as the scene of his interesting story, and such a tree might surely have been spared for the sake of its traditionary character, when the general ravage was made, by its last possessor, on the sylvan beauties of the place." (Hoydell, 1794). TUB BOOK OF THE THAMES. 137 and "Isis" as of tlie gentler sex, they are not all of one mind on this subject. Camden celebrates the Tame as a female — " Now Tame had caught the wish'd-for social flame In prospect, as she duwn the mountains came." "With Drayton, Tame is the bridegroom — " As we have told how Tame holds on his even course, Return we to report how Isis from her source Comes tripping- with delight." He calls her also — " the mother of great Thames." Pope, in allusion to the Thames, makes reference to — " The famed autlmrs of his ancient name, 'J'iio winding Ims and the fruitfui Tliamy." And Warton, As the smootli surface of tlie dimpled flood Tlie silver-sli)iper'd virgin ligiifly trod." Spenser has this passage : — " Him before thee went, as best became His ancient ^«)V'«<s, namely, the ancient Tliame But mucli more aged was his wife than lie, Tlie Ouse, whom men do Isis rightly name.'" The Tame rises in the eastern part of the Chiltern Hills, in Buckingham- shire, between the town of Aylesbury and the village of Querendon ; and after winding through the golden vale of Aylesbury, enters the county of Oxford, and soon refreshes the town to which it has given a name. Hence its course is to the very ancient city of Dorchester, from whence liy slow progress — and by no means " running to the embraces '" of the fair Isis — it paces about two miles to join the Thames beneath the small wooden bridge we have pictured ; its whole course, from its rise to its fall, being about thirty -nine miles. Fancy may be permitted full scope and free indulgence while 'Hhe voyager" passes underneath the plain rustic bridge that marks the interesting locality. lie has visited the scarcely perceptible source of the great river — already seen it fertilize and enrich cities, towns, and villages ; but here he will naturally consider in prospect the mighty gifts it presents to the world, between this com- T 1-38 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. paratively insignificant confluence of " two waters." and the illimitable sea to which they are together hastening : — " Let fancy lead, from Trewsbury mead, With hazel fringed, and copse-'n'ood deep ; Where, scarcely seen, thi-ough brilliant green. Thy infant waters softly creep. To -where the wide-expanding Nore Beholds thee, with tumultuous roar, Conclude thy devious race; And rush, with Medway's confluent wave. To seek, where mightier billows rave, Thy giant Sire's embrace." The portion of land at the upper part of the Tame, near Dorchester, is intrenched across to the Thames, and by this means the passages of both rivers might be commanded. This ancient military work has been attributed to the Eomans, and by some writers to the Ancient Britons. The works consist of a dyke, into which the rivers might be turned, and high embankments are on either side, which are now known as " Dyke Hills." Dr. Plot conjectures that they may be part of the fortifications still remaining at Long AYhittenham, to which we have already directed nVKE HILLS, DOIiCHESTEU. attention. They are similar in structure to the earthwork known as Grimsdyke, nearer Wallingford ; the banks are twenty feet in length : they illustrate, therefore, the early history of Britain, A row up the Tame to visit Dorchester will be the duty of those who have leisure, and desire to examine the several jioints of interest on or near our great British river, lie will be am])ly re]iaid for a brief delay. Although tlie " city" has fallen to the grade of a jiour village, the ]ioman THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 139 ampliitlieatre is an earth -mound, and the cathedral half a ruin, histov}^ and tradition supply unquestionable proofs of its former magnificence — proofs which time has been unable altogether to obliterate. On its site was a Roman station of large extent and ini})ortance ; and the place was famous during the ages that immediately followed. But its high and palmy state was in the seventh century, when Birinus, who was sent from Rome to convert the West Saxons, here first preached to them the Gospel of our Lord. The missionary had baptized Cynegil, the king ; and at the ceremony Oswald, King of Northumberland, attended as god-sib ; when the two sovereigns, according to Bede (who calls it Civitas Dorcinia), gave the bishop this town for the foundation of an episcopal see in honour of the occasion. The see was for a long period of "gigantic dimensions," comprising the two large kiugdoms of the West Saxons and Mercians. Twenty bishops here sate in " papal grandeur ;" and, although seven bishopirics were afterwards " taken out of it," tlie see continued to be the largest in England, until about the year lOSG, when Remigius removed it to Lincoln. At the Conquest, however, the town had dwindled ; it was " small and ill- jieopled," although " the majesty of the church was great, cither by the antiquity of the building, or the diligence of such as had lately repaired it." The old Abbey Church of Dorchester is remarkable for its extreme length, and for some peculiar architectural features. It is now much too large for the wants of the parish, and was, a few years ago, allowed to fall into a lamentable state of decay, from which it has been in a great degree rescued by a general subscription, under the auspices of the Oxford Architectural Society. The portions of Norman archi- tecture now remaining are striking in their solidity and beauty ; but the most remarkable feature in the church is the celebrated " Jesse window,' which lights the north side of the chancel. At the base lies the figure of Jesse, from whose body rises the tree of the Saviour's genealogy ; its stem forms the great centre muUion, the branches from it crossing the other mullions, and forming the intersecting tracery of the window ; they are all richly sculptured with foliation, and a figure of one of the 140 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES, tribe of Jesse appears at each intersection. The statue of the Virgin with the Saviour, which once crowned the whole, has been destroyed. The sediha and piscina opposite this window are highly enriched, and have a peculiarly brilliant effect from the insertion of painted glass beneath the beautiful canopies that shadow them. The other most noticeable feature in the church is the ancient font we here engrave. The upper portion is Norman ; but the shaft is much more recent, pro- bably a Avork of the fifteenth cen- tury. The bowl is circular, and cxliibits figures of apostles seated in eleven semicircular arches; above and below them is a rich border of foliage. The whole of this portion of the font is of lead, and the rarity of such early work in this material makes this example precious in the eye of the antirpiary. It is, more- over, a curious Avork of Art, inasmuch as it presents the peculiar features which are strongly characteristic of the Byzantine taste, foiinded on the decadence of the great Piomau empire in the East. The richness of detail and abundance of decoration visible in the Norman style may be referred to this influence on European Art, On the whole, perhaps, there arc few localities of the kingdom more interesting than those which surround Dorchester : it should be visited by all tourists who traverse this i)art of the Thames. From the junction to ^^'allingford the "united streams '" — TUE FONT, DOUCUEST.; With And i :iriil with equal ; c they go, iuulcfiiig' soon pass under the bridge of Sliillingford, from whence the toi walk some two or three miles to offer honnige at that shrine in t ist may i "rand THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 141 old cliurcli of Ewelme, -whicli contains the dust of Sir Thomas Chaucer, the poet's first-born son. Shillingford is an antiquated viUage, ^Yith many large farm-houses of red brick and tiniber, warndy thatched, and ^Yith an air of picturesque comfort about them thoroughly characteristic of English rural life of " the better sort." Indeed, this portion of the Thames is as completely rural and unsophisticated as any part of England. The character of the scenery changes completely at the bridge, and we see again the rich level meadows, with the square tower of Bensington Church, and the quiet village of farms and cottages beside it.* A mile further, and we reach another lock, close to the town of Wallingford, which is nearly hidden b}' the luxurious growth of trees in surrounding meadows. Wallingford was famous in its day : the British, the IJomans, the Saxons, and the Danes, had each and all their settlements there ; it was a borough in the time of the Confessor, and had a mint before the Con- quest."]" Traces of its ancient walls and castle may still be obtained by the ]iatient searcher; the latter is described by old historians as "im- pregnable," but " Time, the destroyer," has effectually removed all its * " West of the church is a bank and trench, of a square form : the north side stiU retains some- what of its original ajiiiearancc ; to the west and south they are readily traced, but to the cast it requires a minute examination to discern them. Doctor Plot mentions an angle of King Otla's palace near the church, which must have stood on this spot, where bones of men and horses, as well as old spurs and military weapons, have been dug up. This, being a frontier town, often changed its masters in the contests between the West Saxons and the Mercians. Offa, king of the latter, considering it to be politically necessary to his government that his enemies should hold no place on that side of the Thames, at length possessed himself of it, and finally united it to his own dominions." (Boydell, 1794.) t We engrave here the silver penny struck at Wallingford by Ed\vard the Confessor. It is a type of the utmost rarity, and is preserved with other scarce Saxon coins in the Bodleian Library. By com- paring it with the Oxford coin of Alfred, whic we have also engraved, the progressive improve- y^vlM/r^'^ /^^^'^ ment in the English mintage will be apparent— /Z.K^^^'^^^x /fi^\<'- a neater and truer character prevails in those of the Confessor, indicative of more peaceful times. Indeed, the coinage of England tells in some de- gree the history of the country. The rude monies of the Heptarchy seem only fitted for barbaric need ; and it is not until the amalgamation of the Saxon kingdom under one sovereign that a great improvement takes place. The rude heads of ea.-ly kings on our coins seem scarcely human; but tliis of Edward the Confessor exhibits truthful feature.. In the troublous times which succeeded the death of the Norman Conqueror, the national currency lapsed into its old barbarism, and it was not till tlie era of Edward I. that it recovered itself. Wc must refer to the Reading penny, engraved under our notice of that town, as an example, and to tlie uule appended, for a continuation of these remarks. 142 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. strength except a few indications, wliicli consist of rubble and stones. In tlie time of Lelaud it was '' sore in mines, and for tlie most part defaced." Camden described it as " environed -witli a double wall and a double ditch ; the citadel standing in the middle on a high artificial hill," It must have been of immense size and strength, and was perhaps, as it was said to have been, '• impregnable" before ■' Villanous saltiietiv had been cUiy Out of the bowels of the harmless earth." During the civil wars, when King Stephen and the Empress Maud contended for England, the lady was here besieged by her enemy ; but all assaults were vain, until famine came to the aid of the besiegers. Iler son, afterwards Henry II., arrived at the seat of war just in time to save his heroic mother ; but a conference took place on the river's bank. when it Avas resolved that Stephen should possess the crown during his life, and that Henry should succeed him. Of its " fourteen parish churches " WalHngfbrd retains only three, one of which was " erected at the sole expense of that eminent lawyer and learned judge, Sir William iJlackstone." Notwithstanding its comparative decadence, however, Wallingford has the aspect of a cheerful and thiiving town.*-' The ajiproach to it is particularly pleasing — the plainer features of the jjlace Camden mentions liis liaxiny frcq iiicd a cun-;idc'rablc iiortiou of its an tly visited it grandeur in his academic cliaractcr, ar.d tliat it tlien THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 143 being happily liidden by a profusion of foliage on the noble trees that line the banks of the stream. Soon after passing under its bridge we reach the little Norman church of Crowmarsh, and about a mile further, at a lock known as " Chamber Hole," we observe Xewnham-]\[urrcll, with an old church on one side of the river, and AYinterbrook on the other. A short distance below is Mongewell, a fair mansion, with rich gardens, lawn, and plantations. A small modern Gothic church is erected here. We soon reach Cholsey, where an older church awaits the antiquarian tourist. At Little Stoke, some distance onward, we are again met by a railway -bridge, and notice the high chalk down rising above it. Passing the bridge, the church of Moulsford appears embosomed in trees. Nearly opposite is Soiith Stoke, and, a short distance further, at Cleeve Hill lock, we arrive in view of the Streatly hills, at the foot of which are the twin villages of Streatly and Goring — the former in Berkshire, the latter in Oxfordshire, joined by a long and picturesque bridge, from Avhich a fine view is commanded of the river, with its graceful v^'indings and its pretty ''aits" above and below, and especially between the bridge and the lock, distant some half a mile apart. These villages of course contain churches ; that of Goring, however, is by far the most interesting; it stands close to the water-side, and beside it are a graceful cottage and a busy mill.* The church is of Norman foundation, but the tower only preserves the peculiar features of that style. It is very massive in construction, with round-headed windows, divided into two lights by a central pillar ; a winding stair to the belfry is formed in a small round tower, appended * Nearly a century has passed since the village of Goring was "famous" " on account of the vir- tues "of a medicinal spring in its immediate vicinity: it was called " Spring-well," and was situated on the margin of the Thames. It is iiarticuhirly mentioned by Dr. Plot (in the reign of Charles II.) as celebrated for its etficacy in the cure of cutaneous disorders, and also for ulcers and sore eyes. Mucli more recently, however, it was considered " a valuable specific;" for its then owner, Richard Lybbe, Esq., published several advertisements, wherein he states " that other water had been substituted and sold for that of Goring spring;" and he informs the public that, to prevent such deception, every bottle or vessel hereafter filled with the genuine water shall be sealed with his arms, of which he gives a par- ticular description ; and that the persons appointed by him to seal and deliver it shall demand nothing for the water, but a penny a quart for attendance and impress of his arms. The value of Spring-well, if it ever had any, has long ceased to be appreciated. The spring now gives its supply to the Thames without fee or reward, and the " penny stamp" is a tradition of the past. 144 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. to the north side of this square tower. The body of the church is much more modern — a circumstance by no means uncommon in English eccle- siastical architecture. It has been recently restored in very good taste ; but ^Yhile it gratifies the ccclesiologist, it offers few antique features on which the architectural student can dwell. The houses at Goring are excellent examples of those " peasant homes" which nowhere exist more happily than in our own favoured isle. The cottages have tliat look of comfort so essentially English, and their little gardens are trim and neat. Its opposite village has equal claims to attention, and is more romantically situated on the hill-side. The scenery is the most striking we have yet met in our downward course. Resuming oiir voyage, we leave to the right, on the slope of one of the hills which now "accompany" us for several miles, the beautiful mansion of Basildon. Hence, until we arrive at the villages of Pangbourne and Whitchurch, the Thames assumes a new character— high hills, richly clad in foliage, suspend over us on either side, now and then opening. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. l-l-L occcisionally bare, and frequently fringing the banks of the stream with the branches of the best varieties of British trees. The villages of Pang- bourne and Whitchurch, like those of Streatly and Goring, are united by a bridge, a little above which are the lock and weir ; the scenery all about this neighbourhood is exceedingly interesting and beautiful — the stream is broad, and the wood-crowned heights that arise on either side add to the view that variety which is especially welcome after so much that is tame and flat, with which the upper Thames so continually supplies us. These low lands, however, have their value, not alone as suggestive of fertility — they abound in the picturesque ; of such scenes the poet has happily said — " Everywhere Nature is lovely : on the mountain lieight, Or whoi-p tlie embosom'd mountain glen displays Secure sulilimity, or where around The unduhited surface gently slopes With mingled hill and valley ; — everywhere Nature is lovely ; even in scenes like these, Wliere not a hillock breaks the unvaried plain, The eye may tind new charms that seeks deliyht." The Thames at Pangbourue — above and below it — is, and has long been, a favourite resort of the angler; its sides '"hereabouts" are fidl of water- lilies, and those other aquatic plants which afford the fish shelter and jirotection ; they are especially such as arc loved by the perch — and perch-fishing in this vicinity is perhaps as good as it is upon any part of the bountiful river. The Perch is '• one of the most beautiful of our fresh-water fish, and when in good condition its colours are brilliant and striking ;" according to Yarrell — from W'hom this passage is borrowed — " the upper part of the body is a rich greenish brown, passing into golden yellowish white below ; the sides ornamented with from five to seven dark transverse bands ; the irides golden yellow ; the fins brown, spotted with black." The scales are rough, hard, and not easily detached ; as the angler well knows, the fins are so sharp that those who handle them must be careful of their touch. The fin of the perch is, indeed, a weapon of defence, and is said to protect it against the assaults even of the jDike ; certain it is that the perch will live and thrive in a pond or lake with pike, while all its other denizens gradually vanish before the tax which u 146 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. the water-wolf perpetually levies. The perch has been emphatically called " a bold fish :" he is unquestionably, as old Izaalc styles him, "a bold biting fish." If one be caught another is pretty sure to follow; and as they usually "march in troops," and are seldom scared by any noise or bustle in the water, the angler, when he encounters a " school " of them, is likely to fill his basket before his prey discovers what he is about. Again, to quote from Izaak Walton, " they are like the wicked of the world, not afraid, though their fellows and companions perish in their sight." The perch is fished for in the Thames usually with a " paternoster ;" that is to say, a gut or hair line of about four feet long is mounted on the ordinary running line, and this gut or hair lino contains three hooks, mounted on pigs' bristles, placed at intervals a foot or eighteen inches apart, so that different depths are attained. The usual bait is the minnow, but the fish will eagerly take the brandling, or dew- worm. The perch is not often taken in the Thames above a pound weight, or above eight inches in length. They grow, however, to a much larger size, frequently weighing four or five pounds, and occa- sionally so large as eight or nine pounds. They breed rapidly : Yarrell states that a perch of half a pound weight has been found to contain 280,000 ova. Like the pike, it is a fish of prey, and has great tenacity of life; perch have been kept for twenty-four hours out of water without peril to life. Next to the trout, the pike, and the eel, the perch is perhaps the best fish for the table, its flesh being hard and sound. The Gudgeon (Gohio flnviafllis) is commonly found where the perch luxuriates; although associates, however, they arc by no means friends — on the contrary, the one is the prey of the other. The gudgeon abounds in the Thames, and to catch them is a favourite sport of the angler — and a pleasant sport it undoubtedly is, inasmuch as it is usually pursued in hot weather, when there is little disposition to exertion, and repose, amounting to indolence, becomes pleasure for a season. It is in this pursuit especially " the punt " is used, and it is frequent in June and July to see one of these boats moored in the centre of the river, con- taining three and sometimes four persons, lazily hooking tlie fish and 1 (ringing it to the boat's side, when the fisherman removes it from the THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. U7 Look, sees that the bait is in order, and pLaees it again in the water, to be almost immediately drawn up again for a like operation. Gudgeons swim in shoals, are always greedy biters, and a very small degree of skill is therefore requisite to catch them ; it is the amusement of ladies and boys more frequently than of men ; for the fish is sure to hook himself, and little more is required of the angler than to put the bait down and draw it up again as soon as he sees his light float under water. Consequently, " jokes " concerning this easy sort of fishing arc very abundant, and it must be confessed they are not unmerited ; for neither skill, labour, nor activity arc reipiisite to catch some ten or fifteen dozen of this tiny fish by a single hook in a day ; and a boat such as we describe may be pretty sure to contain thirty or forty dozen when a late dinner-bell calls a party home on a summer evening. ^^ .^ PERCH AND GUDGEON. But let nut those who can enjoy no pleasure that is not derived from toil despise the pleasure that is simple and obtained easily. The gudgeon fisher usually seeks a holiday, a quittance from labour, a repose from thought; "his idle time" is, therefore, never "idly spent;" but his amusement is derived from other sources besides those supplied by his rod and line ; he moves about from place to place— from " pitch " to " pitch :" the hot sun is rendered not only innocuous, but agreeable, when 143 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. a gentle breeze passes along the river to cool his Lrow — look where he will his eye encounters some object of natural beauty, and his ear is regaled by the songs of birds along the banks, and the lark ever rising above some adjacent meadow. Tie has leisure to enjoy all this and much more— musing and not thinking — reclining rather than sitting — because neither the exercise of skill, neither mcntnl nor bodily exertion, are requisite to secure sport. For those to whom a full and heavy basket is but a secondary con- sideration, who covet the many other true enjoyments which a day on the Thames affords, there is, after all, no "pleasure" more truly pleasure than that which may be obtained by the gudgeon-fisher from morn till eve of a bright day in summer. The gudgeon is invariably fished for with a small hook, baited with a small red worm, or a blood-worm, usually in water about three feet deep, and as close as may be to the bottom ; the fisherman always selecting a gravelly bottom, which, every now and tlien, lie " scrapes " with a large iron rake, part of liis boat's furniture. The object of the raking is to draw the fish together : they feed on the aquatic insects, and their larVcT, the ova, iScc, which the rake thus frees from the gravel ; of course, they seize greedily on the more tempting morsel which conceals the f^ital hook. It is not uncommon to catch nine or ten dozen in one " jiitch," and, fre- quently, half-a-dozen will be taken without losing or changing a bait. The Thames gudgeon seldom exceeds six inches in length, the ordi- nary size being four inches. The lower jaw is broad, the mouth wide, with a barbul at the angle on each side ; the tail deeply forked ; the scales of the body moderate in size ; the colour of the upjter part of the head, back, and sides oli\e-bro\vn, spotted with black; irides orange re<l, pupil large and dark, gill-covers greenish white ; all the under surface of the body white; pectoral, ventral, and anal fins nearly white, tinged with brown ; dorsal fin and tail pale brown, sj)otted with darker brown. If peojjle care to eat, as well as catch, fish, there is no fish of the Thames more '-palatable" than the gudgeon, fried with a jilentiful supply of lard. It is "of excellent taste, and very wlioles(_ime," and has l)een sometimes called "the fresh-water snirlt." THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 149 From Pangbourne to Reading — or rather to Caversham Bridge — a distance of six miles, the banks of the river again become more level, although the hills continue for a short distance, and remain long in sight, as a fine background to a most beautiful picture. As we have said, the villages of Whitchurch and Pangdourne — the former in Oxfordshire, the latter in Berkshire— are twin villages, united by a long, narrow, ungainly, yet picturesi|ue wooden bridge, from which pleasant views are obtained of tlie river, both above and below. There irt "' ■ if? are, indeed, few prettier localities on the Thames : both have their vene- rable churches, their homely inns, of which the more " ambitious " is at Pangbourne ; but here the angler may seek and find comforts in the little way-side " public " introduced into our sketch, which pictures also the weir-fall, the foreground timber-yard, and the cottage of the fisher- man, John Champ, whose "punts" are always ready, and who is in high favour with the " brethren of the angle," being " Himself as skilful iu that art as any." As a residence for a time, Pangbourne has many attractions ; the scenery in the neighbourhood is very beautiful ; the hills are high and healthful, 150 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. and command extensive views ; the place is sufficiently retired, — for althougli tlie Great Western Iiaihvay runs " riglit tlirough it," visitors are few, except tliose wlio talvc the shortest cut to the river-side, and make the most of a morning "pitch" beside the water-plants, which here grow in rich luxuriance, and where the perch abound. Pangbourne was held, according to Domesday -book, by Miles Crispin of "William the Concpieror. Its manor and church were afterwards granted to the Abbey of Heading, as appears from the confirmations of the charters of Henry II., its founder, by Hubert, Archbishop of Canter- bury, and ifobert, ISishop of Sarum. Pangbourne afterwards formed a jiart of the possessions of Edward, Duke of Somerset, who was executed in the year 1553, in the last year of Edward ^"I. It was then granted to )Sir Francis Englefield by Queen Mary; and he, becoming a fugitive, it reverted to the crown, " as appears from an explification of the Inqui- sition for the finding of him." The reversion of the mansion and manor of Pangbourne was granted by (^>ueen J'llizabeth to Thomas ^^'eldon, cofferer of her majesty's household. The house is mentioned by Leland as a fair manor-place, that had belonged to the abbot of Peading. The THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 151 village, however, has preserved few or none of its antiquities ; the visitor will seek in vain for traces of its early renown, although he may plea- santly muse and dream of its former greatness, while lulled to repose hy the murmur of the "fall" that now gently, and now angrily, gives voice to the waters as they make their way through the weir. The floral enrichments of the water-side, which have afforded us so much interest and pleasure during the whole of our river voyage, still maintain their luxuriance. A glow of rich purple greets our eyes even from a considerable distance, wher- ever the Purj)le Loosestrife {Ly thrum salicaria) predominates. The tall spikes of handsome flowers are so large and conspicuous, as to form a prominent feature fur the artist t(> introduce into the foreground of a river-scene, its warm colour render- ing it particularly valuable for that purpose. AVe may not be weary of repeating advice to the artist whose task it is to design for manufacturers, to resort for models to this rich storehouse of natural graces and beauties. The weeds of the field, the lane, and the hedgerow are, in- deed, fertile of suggestions ; but they are far better known than those of the water-side, which arc truly but " flowers out of place :'' not only in form, but in colour will they be found practically useful — in bud, in blossom, and especially in leaves ; and inasmuch as many of them arc climbing or creeping, they may be applied to a hundred purposes of which the ornanientist has hitherto little thought : " Not a leaf, a flower, Init contains a folio volume : AVe may read, and read, and still find something new, Something to i)lease, and something to instruct." riT.PLE LOOSKSTIilFC. 152 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. [Olibl hTRIFE. The Yellow Loosestrife (Li/simachia vulgoris), which we meet with so abundantly on the banks of the Thames, is interesting for the beauty of itfe yellow flowers, which have a fine effect when contrasted with its usual com- panion, the Purple Loosestrife, and also on account of the singular property attributed to it by the ancients of taming ferocious, and reconciling discordant animals, whence they derived its name of Li/simachia, of which the English " Loosestrife" is- . literal tiau'-lation. A quotation on thi' subject fiom Parkins, the old herbalist, may be amusing to our readers : describing the plant, he speaks of its " taking away strife or debate between beasts, not only those that are yoked together, but even those that are wild also, by making them tame and quiet, which, as they say, this herb will do, if it be either put about their yokes or their necks, which, how true, I leave to tliem who shall try and find it so." Whether the operation of this invaluable specific be or be not ex- tended to the human race the author does not state ; amid the calm and tranquillizing solitudes of the upper Thames it may not be required — but of a surety its application is very often desirable somewhat lower down. Continuing our voyage from Pangbourne — a line of undulating chalk hills on the immediate left, and an uninterrupted tract of flat meadow- land stretching for two or three miles along the opjiosite bank — we soon arrive ojjposite ]Lardwirke House, seated on the slope of a wooded height above the river. It is a large gabled structure of red brick, situated on a terrace of earth raised considerably above the river, upon which are many shady bowers of old yews cut into fanciful arcades. It is so little altered from the time of its erection, that it seems to carry back the spectator to the era of our great civil war. Here Charles 1. sj)ent much of his time during the troublous period that preceded his fall, " amusing THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 153 himself with bowls," and other sports.* On the fine lawn between the house and the river are some noble specimens of cedar, oak, and elm- trees, that, judging from their great age, must have been witnesses of the alternate sports and apprehensions of the sovereign. A little further, and we arrive at an assemblage of choice picturesque objects, such as are not often met with even singly, and are very rarely encountered grouped together into one rich })icture as we here find them. At one view we MArLE-DCUUAM CliUUCH A^D MUX. have JMaple-Dl^rh.vm ferry, lock, and weir — the mossy old mill em- bosomed in rich foliage, from which again rises the grey church tower, behind which, though almost hidden by lofty trees, we see the turreted » No nobleman's mansion was cnnsiJered complete, at flus bowling-green. Our little cut exhibits the game as played in the time of Charles I., and is copied from an Italian print, by Rossi, dated 1647. The sport is said to have originated in England ; and tlie earliest traces of it are to be found in manuscripts of the 13th century. Covered alleys were afterwards invented for the enjoyment of the game in winter ; and it was looked upon as a gentlemanly recrea- tion, of value for the exercise the players attai U remember Tope's hue: Some Dukes at Marybone bowl time away,' 154 TUB BOOK OF THE THAMES. outline of Maple -Dltrh am HorsE, forming altogetlier a painter's para- dise.* The river here becomes broad and studded with numerous islets, between which extends a series of weirs, over which the water tumbles and foanis, adding life and variety to the general calmness of the scene. To obtain a good view of the house, the tourist should land on the right bank, just below the loch, when, looking across the river, he will see, between the two tall elms that frame the picture, a matchless pile of gables, dormers, ornamental chimneys, and all tho other elements of " the Elizabethan style." From the river we have no good view of the ]irin- cipal front of the house, which is towards the east, looking down a magnificent avenue of elm-trccs nearly a mile in length. There are in the house, it is said, several secret rooms and passages used in the time of the Commonwealth by the Royalist party for the concealment of * It was built in 1581 by Sir Jlichaol Blount, tlien Lieutenant of tlie Tower of Lonilon. In tlie churcli are many interesting memorials of tlio Blount family. Maple-Durham is a corruption of Mai)iikler-liam, literally meaniny, the residence or manor anuiii;? the maple-trees. Mapulder was the Saxon and early English name IVir a nuiplc-trec, Apuldcr for an apple-tree, &c. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 155 troops or priests, as the case might be. Maple Durham has long been the property of the ancient family of the Blounts. " The church is of singular design, having a nave of irregular form, with a south aisle only." On the opposite side of the river is the village of Parley, the small church of which stands close to the bank, buried ia a grove of towering trees. Purley Hall, on the right, on high ground, is a plain, square, modern villa. The towing-path is closed Avherc the grounds of Purley reach the Thames, but is continued on the opposite banlc of the stream, so that men and horses have to be ferried across, and continue their journey for about a quarter of a mile, Avlien they reach Purley Ferry, and are again carried across to the right bank, where the ferryman's house is situated, from whence the path continues to Caversham Bridge. The line of the Great ^A'esteru liailway is in sight ahuust all the way between Pangbourne and Peading, and, for the most part, in close prox- imity to the river. About Purley, the tall wooded banks approach each other, and forming now and then close umbrageous scenes of exquisite beauty. Continuing our journey, no object of particular interest meets us for some distance, until, coming to a turn of the river where the country opens out, we obtain a sight of Caversham, with its old bridge and church, and the large town of Reading. The ground on the right has now sunk to a level ; but on the left, chalk-hills, with steep decli- vities, approach and almost overhang the stream. From these hills beautiful prospects are obtained of the river and surrounding scenery ; and, for half a mile before reaching Caversham, the northern bank is adorned by a fine hanging wood of fir-trees, passing which we arrive at Caversham Bridge and village.* * During the civil war, many skirmislies toolv place in Uiis vicinity. Of one of them, between the troops of the Parliament and those of the king, some records are preserved in the diary of Sir Samuel Luke, said to have been the original of Butler's " Hudibras." Ho writes :— " Upon Cawsam hill, unexpected to us, came his Majesty's forces, under the command of General Kuven and Prince Rupert, consisting of about forty collours of horse and nine regiments of foot, with ordnance and other ammu- nition; they fell upon a loose regiment that lay there to keepe the bridge, and gave them a furious assault both with their ordnance and men — one bullet being taken up by our men which weighed twenty-four pounds at the least. This was answered with our musketts, and we made tlie hill soe hott 156 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. Caversham Bridge is an ugly structure, partly of wood and partly of stone. At its foot is a small cottage, wliere boats are hired, and Avliere the curious may trace some ancient remains, which appear to be those of the wayside chapel noted by Leland in his " Itinerary " (temj). Hcrtry VIII.). He tells us — " At the north end of Caversham Bridge, as we come from Reading, there standeth a fair old chapel of stone, on the right hand, piled in the foundation because of the rage of the Thames." In the letters addressed to Ilearne, the antiquary, is one dated 1727, from an inquirer, Avho informs him that " this chapel was dedicated to St. Anne," and that from thonco tlip religious Avent at certain times to a i l:SIUM BRIDGE holy well, "between the field called the INIount and a lane called Priest's Lane," from which circumstance it obtained its name ; and that there was " in the memory of man a large ancient oak just by this well, which was also had in great veneration." The lock — Caversham Lock — is distant half a mile from the bridge; for them that thoy were forccel to retreat, leaving- behind seven Imilyes of as personalilc men as ever were seeiie, and must of tlieir armes ; besides ntlicrs wliich fell in lliree or four miles compasse, as they retreated. And it is saycd that within five miles there were five hnndrcd hurt men drest in a barne, besides many prisoners which wee fooke, and many hurt men within our precincts, to which wee sent the next morning our surgeons to drcssc, and gave orders to liave the dead bodyes buryed by the parishioners where they were slain." THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 157 aud a small island, containing about four acres, divides the current. A view of the town of Reading would he hence obtained but for the intervening railway. The steeple of 8t. Lawrence's Church is, however, seen high above surrounding houses ; and so is the red-brick ruin of the Abbey gateway, closely adjoining the modern jail, beside which the ruins of the old abbey have been laid out in shady public walks : they exhibit little remains of distinctive architectural features, inasmuch as the walls have been denuded of the outer squared stone for building purposes, leaving the core of the walls only. A very pretty public garden is in front of this, and a mound, with a fine group of trees, commands a beautiful view of the winding of the Thames, from Parley on the left to Shiplake on the right of the spectator. The Kennet, which runs through the town, joins the Thames between Caversham Bridge and Sonning. This river rises near the village of East Kennet, on the eastern side of Wiltshire, in the vicinity of Abury, and, " after a sequestered course " of about four miles, reaches Marl- borough, afterwards waters the ancient village of Ramsbury, thence visits and refreshes Hungerford, proceeding thence to Newbury, where it becomes navigable ; aud during a course of nearly forty miles nmiis- ters to the wants and industry of man — aiding tlie operations of the Thames in producing and distributing wealth. Drayton in his quaint poem, the " Poly-Olbion," thus narrates the junction of the streams : — " At Reading oiiec arrived, clear Kennet overtaP;c5 Her lord, the stately Thames; which that great fljod again With many signes of joy doth kindly entertain. Then Loddon next comes in, contriljuting lior store, As still we see, the much runs ever to the more." Heading is the venerable capital of Berkshire. " This little city," say some topographers, " was termed by the Saxons, Uheadyne, from rhea, a river ; or the British word rcdui, signifying fern, which Lcland mentions as "growing hereabouts in great plenty;" but these are fanciful deriva- tions. In all such names the termination ing was the Saxon patronymic. The Raidingas was a family, or, as they woidd say in Scotland, a clan, whose original head was a chief named Rajda. The name, therefore, simply meant that this was the seat and property of that family. In 158 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. most i^ai-ts of England the name of the family is joined with 1mm, tan, &c., meaning a residence, as Birmingham (Beorminga-ham, the home of the Beormingas), Wellington (\Ya'llinga-tun, the tmi, or dwelling, of the A-N fellingas), &c. But in the south, especially in Berkshire, Sussex, and perhaps Surrey, the family name was given to the place without any adjunct; 'as we have AYorthiug (the Worthingas), and Beading (the Etedingas), and Sonning (the Sonningas). A strong castle existed here until the time of Henry II., by whom it was destroyed, as " affording a place of refuge to the adherents of King Stephen." Its site has long been matter of speculation. Its abbey was one of the most considerable in England, '• both for the magnitude of its building and the state of its endowments," its abbots being mitred, and enjoying the honour of a seat in Parliament. The structure was commenced by Henry I. " on the site of a small nunnery, said to have been founded by Elfrida, mother-in-law of Edward the Martyr, in order to expiate the murder of that king at Corfe Castle." The active and honourable part which Reading sustained during the war between Charles I. and the Parliament, occupies a prominent page in i\\Q history of the period; but lieading, from its proximity to the Thames, being on the liigh road to London, and from its strength, " though not a walled town, as may be supposed," shared largely in many of the leading events of the country in all ages."^ Of " the castle," as we have intimated, * The ti)wn of Reading had llic privileg-e of coining- from tlie early days of tlio Saxons, an<l it was crintinued until tlic iocal coinage of Kngland was merged into tlie nn^ropnlitan mint. Tlic penny of Edward I., licre engraved, was struclv at tliis town, wliicli is termed " Villa Radingy " on tliis piece, in accordance with tlic Latinized form so constantly adopted in medieval currency. The great improve- ment in the coinage <at this time is due to the long and prosperous reign of Edward I., wlio restoretl the currency to beauty, from a state of barbarism worse than tliat of the Saxon era, into ^^llich it had simk after the reign of John, and during the trou- blous times in England. The coinage remained without change until another great monarch had to give peace alter intestine wars — Henry VII., who first gave portraiture on our national money ; for from the time of Edward III. until his period, one head only was used for the series, like that upon this little coin ; and it is not easy to distinguish the particular coins of some sovereigns from others of the series, except by minute peculiarities known to the students of Numismatics, but wliich would escape the eye of the general observer. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 159 even the site is unknown : Leland conjectures that " a piece of the abbey- was built of the ruins of it ;" while of the famous abbey itself there are but few remains, the county jail now occupying its place. At the disso- lution it was "extremely wealthy," and contained many " valuables." It was peculiarly rich in relics, possessing, among other treasures, " a hand of the Apostle James," and ''the principell relik of idolytric within thys realme, an aungel with oon wyng that brought to Caversham the spere hedde that percyd our Saviour is side upon the crosse." * The town is active and prosperous, although of its once famous woollen manufactories there is but the tradition. The only important manu- factory it now possesses is one for the production of " biscuits ;" and, strange as it may appear, this is so extensive as to employ several hundred men, aided by large machine power. It is foreign to our purpose, or a very agreeable and interesting paper might be written concerning the several processes in use to create this minor accessory of the table, which is exported — not by thousands, but by millions — and sent to every part of the globe. They have, and deserve, a universal reputation, obtained and sustained by using only the best materials of all descriptions — flour, milk, eggs, sugar, and so forth ; and it must be * A curious story is told in Fuller's Church History, which records a memorable visit of " bluff King Hal " to Reading Abbey :— " As King Henry VIII. was hunting iu Windsor Forest, he either casually lost, or more probably wilfully losing himself, struck down, about dinner time, to the Abbey of Read- ing, where, disguising himself (much for delight, more for discovery unseen), he was invited to the abbot's table, and passed for one of the king's guard,— a place to which the proportion of his person might properly entitle him. A sirloin of beef was set before him (so knighted, saith tradition, by this Henry) ; on which the king laid on lustily, not disgracing one of that place for whom he was mistaken. ' Well fare thy heart (quoth the abbot), and here in a cup of sack I remember the he.alth of his grace your master. I would give an hundred pounds on the condition I could feed so lustily on beef as you do. Alas : my weak and squeezie stomach will hardly digest the wing of a small rabbit or chicken.' The kingpleasantly pledged him, and heartily thanked him for his good cheer; after which he departed as undiscovered as he came thither. Some weeks after, the abbot was sent for by a pursuivant, brouglit up to London, clapt in the Tower, kept close prisoner, and fed for a short time with bread and water ; yet not so empty his body of food, as his mind was filled with fears, creating many suspicions to him- self, when and how he had incurred the king's displeasure. At last a sirloin of beef was set before him, of which the abbot fed as the farmer of his grange, and verified the proverb, that two hungry meals make the third a glutton. In springs King Henry out of a private loljby, where he had placed himself, the invisible spectator of the abbot's behaviour. ' My lord (quoth the king), presently deposit your hundred pounds in gold, or else no going hence all the dales of your life. I have been your phy- sician, to cure you of your squeezie stomach, and here, as I deserve, I demand my fee for the same.' The abbot down with his dust, and, glad ho had escaped so, returned to Reading, as somewhat lighter in purse, so much more merry in heart, than when he came thence." IQQ THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. recorded as a gratifying fact, that the manufacturers, while making their own fortunes, have contributed very largely to the prosperity of the town. Reading was the birthplace of Archbishop Laud, and among honour- able and happy memories associated with this town, or rather with its vicinity, is that of '• Three Mile Cross," long the residence of Mary Eussell Mitford. We ask the reader to leave the Thames for awhile, and make with us a pilgrimage to the grave of this admirable woman, whose writings have found their way over the whole civilised world, rendering familiar to all the peculiar traits of English village character, and the graces, so essen- tially our own, which decorate the lanes, the homesteads, and the cottages of rural England. Eeading is a credit to the beautiful river that sweeps through its valley; neat, active, bustling — a sort of miniature city, with a sprinkling of pretty villas in pleasant suburbs, some more than half concealed at this season by the foliage of close shrubberies, and surrounded by borders and parterres of flowers that would joy Miss Mitford's heart, were she moving among them, instead of resting beneath the granite cross erected to her memory in the homely, yet solemn churchyard of Swallowfield. Our first object was to visit the humble dwellings, in one of which she lived for more than a quarter of a century, in the other of which she died. To " Three Mile Cross," the " Our Village " of her stories and sketches, we wended our way. It was a day " brimful " of air and sunshine ; no dust, no rain ; every leaf at maturity ; every bird in song ; every stream- let musical ; the shadows calm, distinct, and still, as if waiting to be painted ; our driver intelligent but unobtrusive ; our carriage comfortable and not noisy; the "sunny lanes" showing themselves worthy the repu- tation SHE has given them, and the steady dignified trees proving, if proof were needed, "England before the world" for beauty of upland and lowland, of park and pleasaunce, of wood and water, of cottage and croft, of corn-field and meadow, of all things — every thing that can render life enjoyable, and plenteous, and happy. We were in Mary Russell Mitford's own county, "the sunny Berkshire," made famous in so THE LOOK OF THE THAMES. 161 many of her bright pages. We fancied we knew the roads and the trees she wrote about or talked of; the rough-coated elms, standing boldly and bluntly out from velvet hedge-rows — a slim stick of sprouting foliage springing here and there from the rugged bark, reminding one of an old man's child, while the great robust tree-tops were telling of vigorous old age 1 The signs of the over-many public-houses, so quaint and "un-London-like" — "The Four Ilorse-Shoes," "The Fox and Horn," " The Swan," " The George and Dragon," " The Star," were so many landmarks. There were herds of sheep on the uplands and lowlands, and lowing cattle under trees ; there were children "' elaj^ping their hands, and blooming like roses ;" the jobbing gardener, with his rake, his garland of " bass," and his bundle of " shreds — blue, black, and rod ;" the bronzed and muscular village blacksmith; the pale-faced shoemaker; the ragged, rosy, saucy boys; the fair, delicate "lily-of-the-valley-like " maidens — the descendants of those who were boys and girls when " Our Village" was written, — we saw them all, and identified them all with the painter of " Three Mile Cross." And then we arrived, after delicious loiterings, at "o IMile X" itself, as it is described, by itself, on tlie first wall to the right : it is a long, lean, straggling hamlet of twenty houses Y 162 TUE BOOK OF THE THAMES. and a half (we counted them conscientiously), the "half" being the shoe- maker's shoji, from whence, in INIiss Mitford's time, '" an earthquake would hardly have stirred the souter." The village shop is there still, — "Bromley's shop," — ^just as it was in her day, except that the master and mistress are " elderly," and the chil- dren not exactly young ^ but children flourish round them, keeping the picture " fresh." The master of the village shop (a handsome old man) was pleased to talk of Miss ]\Iitford, and "the Doctor," and of her good- nature and oddity. " Yes," he said, "' that was her house, the very next door ; we might call it, as every one did, ugly, and small, and incon- venient ; but she liked it. She made herself and everybody else happy in it : he didn't know what visitors expected the house to be ; he could repeat every word she had written on 't. ' A cottage— no, a miniature house, with many additions — little odds and ends of places — pantries and what not ; a little bricked court before one half, and a little flower-yard before the other ; the walls old and weather-stained, covered with holly- hocks, roses, honeysuckles, and a great apricot-tree.' " " But where are they?" "All! the hollyhocks, the roses, honeysuckles, and great apricot-tree, are destroyed and dead ; but there is the window into which the Doctor used to fling apricots to my children." Yes, the flowers are all gone, and every tree in the garden is gone — all except the old bay and one " fairy rose I " The house, so far as the bare walls are concerned, is much as she left it : an assemblage of closets (" our landlord," she says, " has the assurance to call them rooms"), full of contrivances and corner-cupboards. "That house," to rpiote her own words, " was built on purpose to show in what an exceeding small compass comfort may be packed." Yet when we entered the tiny, low-ceilinged rooms, almost without light or ventilation, and ascended the narrow stairs, — where crinoline could not come, — and saw around us ample evidence of the impossibility to impart to the dwelling anything ajiproaching the jiicturesque of cottage life, we felt — what ? — the most intense admiration and respect for tlic well-born and once woalthv ladv who brought within these "old and THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 163 weather-stained \valls" an atmosphere of happiness, an appreciation of all that is true and beautiful in nature ; and sent from out those leaden case- ments, and that narrow door, such floods of light and sunshine as have brightened the uttermost parts of the earth I AYho ever heard her murmur at changed fortunes — when obliged to leave the home, " stately though simple," the home of eighteen years, "surrounded by fine oaks and elms, and tall, massy plantations, shaded down into a beautiful lawn by wild overgrown shrubs I" She confesses, indeed, in her sweet playful way, that at the time it nearly broke her heart to leave it : — " What a tearing up by the root it was I I have pitied cabbage plants, and celery, and all transplantable things ever since ; though, in common with them and other vegetables, the first agony of transportation being over, I have taken such firm and tenacious hold of my new soil, that I would not for the world l)e pulled up again, even to be restored to the beloved ground." "What was this? philosophy or lieroism ? or the perfection of that sweet plastic nature which receives, and retains, and fructifies all happy impressions — which opens to, and cherishes, all natural enjoy- ments, and adapts itself to circumstances with the true s}»irit of the practical piety that bends to the blast, and sees sunshine, bright and enduring, bej'ond the blackest cloud : let the darkness be ever so dense without, the lamp burns calmly and purely within!"' • arary Kussell Jlitfoul was I.orn on the nuh of Dccembor, in the year 1786, at the little town of Alresford, in Hampshire. Her father was Georpo Mitford, M.l)., the son of a younger branch of tlie Mitlbrds of jntford Castle, Korthuraberland, and Jane Graliam, of Old Wall, Westmoreland, a branch of the Netherby clan. Her mother was Slary nnsscU, only surviving child and lieircss of Richard Russell, D.D., Rector of Ashe and Tadley, and \'icar of Overton, in Hampshire, above si.\ty years. He died at the ago of eighty-eight, before liis daughter's marriage, and remembered having seen Rope wlien at Westraiuster School. Ho was intimate with Fielding, and many of the wits of that period ; and Miss Mitford had a portrait of him, with a wig, not unlike a judge's wig, hanging over it. Three or four years after, Dr. Mitford removed from Alresford to Reading; and three or four years after that, again, whrii his daii^rliter was in her ninth year, he went to reside at Lyme Regis, in Dor- set-hire, iu a fine old h.iuso. ] :iv\i.,us|y occupied by the great Lord Chatham, where his two sons fre- quenUy spent, their holidaxs. I!y this time Dr. Mitford had spent between £30,000 and £40,000, and went to London to retrmrh and .l.t ■inline liis future course of life. His daughter, then ten years of age, was his favourite o inipaiiinn ; and, lounging about, ho one morning strayed into a dingy house, which proved to be a lottery-oftice j for what follows we arc indebted to Miss Mitford's " Recollections of a Literary Life " : — " ' Choose what number you like best,' said dear papa, 'and tliat shall be your birthday present.' " I immediately selected and put into his hand No. 2224. " ' Ah ! ' said my father, examining it, ' you must choose again. I want to Iniy a whole ticket, .a^:il this is only a quarter. Ciioose again, my pet.' L" " ^'"' lC-1 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES Those only ayIkj had known the extent and h;xur}- of her former home, and afterwards had the privilege of enjoying her society, in that "scrappy" cni)boarded dwelling at "Three Mile Cross," can sufficiently appreciate the fulness, the warmth, the geniality, the strength of her sunshine, which, without effort or exaggeration, made all within and without happy in her happiness. What the worthy shopkeeper, Mr. Bromley said, Avas quite true — there was nothing exaggerated in her description of that miniature home ; if strangers expected the relics of a cottage ornec, that was their fault, not Miss ^litford's. She had described it as it was, literally; if touched by the coulcur de o'ose of lier happy mind, that she could not help. She could no more avoid enjoying the beauties of nature, than the sun could decline to give heat ; and if all people have not the same happy gift, that is not the fault of Mary llussell Mitford. Despite the dilapidated condition of the cottage at Three Mile Cross, we fancied much of her genial spirit there ; and could, from her descriptions, identify the present race of children with the children of past times. Those villages, which yet continue far away from the contaminatiun of railway stations, are " Old England;" and as her sketches are from nature, they remain true to nature still. A gentle and kindly }oung woman, the daughter of " Bromley's shop," who had memories for a hundred gracious and thoughtful words and acts, ran after our carriage with a branch of yellow japonica — "There," she said, "that is from Miss Mitford's garden;" we had pre- " ' No, dear papa— I like this one l>est.' " ' There is the next nunibrr,' iiitei-poseil tlio lottcry-onice keeper, ' Xo. 2-22:3.' " ' Aye,' said my father, ' that wiU do just as well. Will it not, JIary ? AVo '11 take that.' " ' No,' returned I, obstinately, ' that won't do. This is my birthday, you know, papa, and I am tell years old. Cast up the fi^'ures forming- my number, and you will find they make ten— the other is only nine.'" The fatlicr, like all speculators, was superstitious. The argument was irrc^istilile. The fie-ket was purchased, ami a few months afterwards intelligence arrived Uiat No. 2224 had lieen drawn a prize of £20,000. "Ah me ! " (reflects Jliss ."Mitfnrd), " in loss llian twenty years what w.is left of the produce of tliat ticket, so strangely chosen ? What ? except a Wedgwood dinner-service, that my father had made to o.mmemorate the event, with the U-ish harp witliin the border on one side, and his family crest on tho other. That fragile and perishable ware long outlasted the more perisliable money." Miss Mitford died at Swallowfield on the 10th of January, 1S55, and was buried in the graveyard of the village church, on the Istli of the month of that year. THE BOOK OP THE THAMES. 1G5 viously oLtained a sjivig of bay and a fairy rose from the sanctuary, Ijut her kindness made the yellow branch the sweetest of the three. The drive to Swallowfield,* about two miles farther from Eeading, was a repetition of the scenery from Reading to "Three Mile Cross," with the exception of the common, which JMiss Mitford immortalized by the " cricketing " — a sport she enjoyed as much as any youth in the county. One of her great powers was certainly her large sympathy ; she threw herself into the joys, sorrows, pastimes, and feelings of young and old. Her extensive poetic, and even classic, reading — the glare and glitter, and town-bred celebrity of her dramas, did not lessen her appre- ciation of the true, and practical, and beautiful, in rural life : if the v.orldly carry the Avorld within them, so did she bear the joyousness of nature within her heart of hearts. We watched to see a graceful grey- hound— " Mayflower " — spring out of the hollow beyond the common ; but, alas ! in vain ; that day there were no cricketers, no sheep — only a few boys, and they were too quiet by half; while a winding flock of sober goslings, with their attendant parents, eyed us without a single hiss. ^\q chatted over the peculiarity which had often amused us in our old favo\irite and friend ; the habit — Avhicli had increased with her increasing years, and particularly after her father's death — of seldom rising until long past noon, and talking miles by moonlight, or light of lantern — she did not seem to care wliich, so long as it was night. In the afternoon she was busied with her flowers, and after sunset she would sally forth with her maid, her lantern, and a long stick, almost, if not quite, as long again as herself, and trot merrily off, rarely returning until late at night : her next door nei"'hbour assured us that more than once, * " The manor of Swallowfield was anciently hold as an appendage to Shinfiokl, by the St. Johns of Legham ; and afterwards by the Do la Beehe family. It subsequently became the property of the celebrated Regent of France, John Duke of Bedford, who, at his deatli, in 1435, bequeathed it to the King. In 1443 it was presented by the Crown to Jolm Penicoke, groom of the wardrobe ; and in pro- cess of time came into the family of Backhouse. By marriage with the widow of Sir W. Backhouse, K.B., who died in 1649, Lord Clarendon became lord of the manor, and, if we may believe tradition, wrote at Swallowfield Place, after his retirement from public life, his well-known ' History of the Rebellion.' Edward, grandson of the historian, sold it in 1719 to Governor Pitt, better known as 'Diamond Pitt.' After belonging successively to the Dods and Beavans, it came into the possession of Sir Charles Russell, Bart., the present proprietor," whose estimable mother, the Lady Russell, was the devoted friend and continual comforter of Mary Russell Mitford. 166 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. when driving liome, he found "the dcav little lady" breasting a snow- drift, and this was confirmed by the kindly and benevolent clergyman who now resides at Swallowfield. She loved the stars as well as the sunshine; but it is singular that she has given no record of these wan- derings in the dark. Swallowfield, to which she removed some four years before her death, and Avhere she died, is a delicious wayside cottage, standing on a trian- gular plot of ground, skirted by roads overarched by magnificent trees ; it is the heau-idcal of a residence for one who loves the country. She SWALLiiW could chat over the fence M'ith the passing peasant, and see all who drove 11}) either road : l)ut lovely as it is, we think she must have missed the rUhujr — missed the children — missed the hourly life-interests that clung ruuud her heart at " Three ■Mile Cross." ''J'he aged tree had been transplanted ; and, superior as this luvdy cottage is in extent, in beauty, in the richness of its close scenery to her first humble dwelling, Ave believe "the roots " never struck far below the surface. Swallowfield was lovely, but her father had never been there; old familiar faces could not bo brought there, as to " Tlirce IMile Cross," by a simple effort of memory; they did not hvloiuj to Swallowfield; it was lovely, but the THE BOOK OP THE THAMES, 1G7 well-known voices of village children did not bound in through the open window ; it was more beautiful, more commodious, but " pretty May " never "stretched" before that fire; "the dear father" never sate under tlie shadow of that mantelshelf : to the old, these delicious home- memories are more "life" than the actual life in which others exist ; the eye may be closed, and the lip silent, but the past — the past — is, with the old, ever fresh and young as a " blind man"s bride." The family at Swallowfield respect Miss Mitford's garden, and have not altered the position of a single tree, nor turned a path, nor done aught to disturb that which her hand has " hallowed." The clergyman showed us her favourite rose-tree, and permitted us to visit the room out of which her spirit passed from life's pilgrimage ; — no ! she never felt life to be a " pilgrimage ;" it was rather a ramble through the jjleasant paths of a pleasant world ; and though thorns would now and then show their sharp points among the tluwers, even to her, yet, despite the sufferings of her latter days, it was with her "Life to the last enjijj'ed." " To the last" she was as fond of green trees and lanes, and the songs of bird and bee, and the " mountain nymph, sweet Liberty," as if she had been born a gipsey queen ; and she herself would sometimes laugh and say, that at best she was but a gipsey lady. She corresponded more or less with the literati of her time, and when she was — as she but rarely was — a "star" in London, her society was much courted ; but she Avas out of place in the metropolis — the heat and " celebrities," the noise and tramp, the perpetual movement fatigued her. (She loved best to be where the affections and sympathies had time to take root, and grow, and fructify ; she was no fine lady, to put out of the sphere of those sympathies and affections such as were not born with a passport to "good society." All were her neighbours, and her poor neighbours knew the value of her regard. It is somewhat singular that, alive as she was to political movements, alive to rural sports, to society, friendships, and affections, she took no interest in education ; had no desire that the Liicys and Tommys, the Janes and Jacks, should 163 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. be educated : lier mind was, perhaps, too poetic to embrace the business of education, or to grasp its advantages — she believed more in insjnra- tion than in training. The dame-school only interested her because it was picturesque ; like many others of high blood, she believed herself a liberal, when she was strongly conservative in her opinions and — her prejudices; she had no love for schools or railroads. Miss Mitford's letters were charming; her handwriting stiff and sturdy; quite unlike the graceful penmanship of Mrs. Hemans, the crabbed strokes of poor L. E. L., or the style systematic of good Maria Edgeworth. In her introduction to her Dramas, dedicated to her long-loved friend, Francis Bennoch, she expressed a wish to be buried in the churchyard of Bwallowfield : and this excited the surprise, and somewhat of the loving jealousy, of the dwellers at " Three Mile Cross," who imagined she would have rested with her beloved parents in tlieir churchyard. THE TOMB OF MISS MITl'ORD. A cross of Aberdeen granite marks her grave in " the beautiful church- yard of Swallowfield." It may be about a mile from the cottage from which the spirit of INIary Kussell IMitford passed to a world even more beautiful than hers— to "fresh fields and pastures new "—and joins the l»ark of one of her latest and truest friends : the breeze sweeps through THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 169 the noble trees, and the sunbeams penetrate the foliage, so as to chequer the sward with light ; the shadow of the fine old church falls gently over the graves of " the rude forefathers of the hamlet," and the ploughman's whistle mingles with the whistle of the blackbird and the bleating of the sheep : it is an exquisite spot, a fit resting-place for the author of " Oin Village." Having rambled through Reading, noted its large capabilities for commerce, visited its principal antiquities, and made our pilgrimage to the home and grave of Mary Russell IMitford, we continue our voyage, entering the boat at Cavershara Bridge, previously examining the pictu- resque and venerable church, and the singular '• bit of ruin " that apper- tains to the boat-house. The Kennet, close to its junction with the Thames, is crossed by two <MNG cm r II railway bridges, the South Eastern and the Great Western, the latter being the nearest to the great river into v.hich the tributary runs. In the immediate neighbourhood of Caversham Lock, there are wooded slopes crowned with villas, which give variety and interest to the z 170 THE DOOK OF THE THAMES. scenery ; tlience the banks are flat and tame, until we come in view of Sonning Parle, and pass nnderneatli the woods which overhang the river. The church and viHage of Bonnixo are very sim]ile, hut highly pictu- resque,— the former is vcnerahlc from antiquity, but exceedingly neat and well kept ; the latter is clean, neat, and sufficiently aged to retain many of the best characteristics of its " order," which, unhappily, are fast decaying throughout England. It is described by Leland as " an upland town, set on fair and commodious ground, beneath which the Tamise runneth in a pleasant vale." A handsome bridge of brick connects it ^J^^f-^' I'LAKE CIIUUCII. with the opposite side : many of the cottages are covered with climbing plants — the old honeysuckle, the time-honoured jasmine, and the sweet clematis, mingled with the more recent acquirements of simple florists of humble homes. On the opposite baidc, a little above the junction, is the village of SiiU'LAKE, backed by hilly slopes, on one of which is the church, of which Grainger, author of the '' Lirigraphlcal ]_)ictiunary," was the incumbent; living here "in com})etency, obscurity, and content" — so THE BOOK OF THE THAMES, 171 says the tablet which marks his grave ; and here dying, in 1770, "as he M-as officiating at the altar." From the church porch there is a glorious view of the valley of the Thames : — '■ The tranquil Cf>t, tlic resUess mill, The lonely hamlet, calm and still ; The village spire, the busy town, The i-lielving bank, tlic rising down ; The fisher's punt, the pjasaufs home. The woodland seat, the regal dome, — In quick succession rise to charm The mind, with virtuous feelings warm ; Till where thy widening current glides To mingle with the turbid tides, Thy spacious breast displays unfnrl'd The ensigns of th" assembled world I " The lock and mill of Shiplake are now reached, just helow which the Loddon meets the Thaines ; the great river being crossed by the rail- way from Twyford to Henley. The Lod- --^ don is " composed of various branches," — its most distant source being in the vici- nity of Basingstoke, one of its accessory rills gUding through a part of ^Yindsor Forest. The viHage of Warguave is a pretty and long village, Avith a pictu- resque church, surrounded by well-grown trees, and environed by productive mea- dows. In the venerable church is a mo- nument to Thomas Day, the eccentric liut amiable author of " Sandford and 3Ierton," who was killed by a fall from his horse on his w'ay from Anningsly, his home, near Chertsey, to the residence of his mother at Bear"s Hill, near War- grave. The monument contains these lines, written by Day as an inscription for the tomb of a friend; but they Avere well applied to himself : — " Beneath tlie reach of time, or fortune's power, Remain, cold stone, remain, and mark the hour When all the noblest gifts that Heaven e'er £a\c, Were enter'd in a dark, untimely grave 1 WARGRAVE CHrRCH. 172 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. Oh 1 taught on reason's boldest wings to rise, And catch each glimm'ring of the opening skies .' Oh, gentle bosom of unsullied mind '. Oh, friend to trutli, to virtue, to mankind Thy dear remains we trust to this sad shrine, Secure to feel no second loss like thine." We now approach one of the cultivated "lions" of the Thames — " Park Place," famous in the annals of the river for the beauty of its site, the growth of its trees, and some circumstances Avhich give it interest Leyond that of ordinary demesnes. The house was built by the I)uke of Hamilton : it was some time the residence of Frederick, Prince of ^Yalcs, the father of George III. ; but it is mainly indebted for its many attractions to Marslial Conway, who, towards the close of THE EOAT-HOWE AT PARK-rL.iCE. the last century, became its possessor, and who "set himself the task" of giving to Nature all the advantages she could derive from Art. Tlie grounds have since received the benefit of time ; they have not been neglected by successive lords ; and the gentleman who at present owns them has evidently studied, by all the means at his command, to render them — what they are — " beautiful exceedingly." ^"isitors, by whom access on fixed days is easily obtained, land at the very charming THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 173 "Boat-house" we liave pictured; it is, in reality, a furnislied dwelling, and contains some fine, and several remarkable, works of Art, — statues, pictures, wood-carvings, and foreign curiosities, — in the examination of which half an hour may be profitably expended. A walk through the grounds, however, is a more exrpiisite treat — hill and dale, richly-wooded slopes, and shaven lawns, are happily inter- mixed ; while every now and then judicious openings supply views of the Thames underneath, or the landscape far beyond. Here and there, on green hillocks or in gloomy dells, mimic ruins have been introduced ; some of them built out of the debris of Reading Abbey. In one of them is a long subterraneous passage (cut through a chalk bed), leading to a Roman amphitheatre, the base of which is planted with the mournful cypress. This is the work of IMarshal Conway ; but there is an object of greater interest in these grounds, although its value is lessened by the knowledge that this also is " artificial." Strictly speaking, however, artificial it is not; for the Draioic Temple which stands on the summit of one of the small hills, was placed exactly as it was found, keei)ing precisely the same form and character it received from the hands of the "builders," it may be twenty centuries ago. We 174 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. may briefly tell its liistory. The temple was discovered on the summit of a high hill near the town of St. Helier, in tlie Isle of Jersey, on the 12tli of August, ITSo; it was entirely covered with earth, having the appearance of a large tumulus, and was laid bare by workmen employed to level the ground. Fortunately, General Conway was then Governor of Jersey ; his attention was at once directed to its preservation ; and, on his leaving the island, it was presented to him, and by him removed to Park Place. "This curious structure is sixty-five feet in circumference, composed of forty -five large stones (measuring, in general, about seven feet in height, from four to six in breadth, one to three in thickness), and contains six perfect lodges, or cells. The sujiposed entrance, or ])assage, faces the east, and measures fifteen feet in length, and four feet and upwards in breadth, and about four feet in height, Avitli a covering of rude stones from eighteen inches to two feet thick. In the removal of tliis curious temple from Jersey, all the parts were marked with such care as to be correctly placed in their original form, and precise direction, when they were re-erected on the charming spot which is distinguished by them. In the eighth volume of the ' ArchcTologia,' a particular account is given of this venerable antiquity." * We ask the reader to pause awhile at this pleasant " Place," and give a few moments' consideration to another subject which may be suggested to his thoughts in various i)arts of the river ; and nowhere, perhaps, will it occur to him more forcibly than it docs here. " We have retained flie popular terra " temple," as applied to this antiquity ; but it is properly a tomb. Recent researches in Jersey and Guernsey have sufficiently established that fact. The circle of stones formed the wall of a small chamber, which was covered by heavy slabs ; the " cells" contained bodies of the dead. A narrow covered passage led to this chamber, and a mound of earth was placed over all. In the thirty-fifth volume of the " Arclireologia," Mr. Lukis, of Guernsey, has described several of these burial-places, from his own investigations in these islands. He describes the avenue or entrance to them as rarely more than 3 feet in height by 2 tVct in widlli; the interior chamber of the largest was 8 feet in height, 45 feet in length, and 15 feet in width ; the roof stones, of granite, were computed to weigh thirty tons. They appear to have been used for successive interments of the abori- ginal chieftains of the islands, and have been found with additional chambers as the original ones became filled with the " great departed." Sometimes in these chambers skeletons arc found ; sometimes bones, which show tliat the body was consumed by tire ; sometimes the ashes are jireserved in urns, rudely decorated with incised ornament. The other articles found in these tombs tell of an early and primitive people, such as spear and arrow-heads of flint, as well as knives of the same material, rudely formed beads of coloured earlli, liracclets of jet, ,tc. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 175 THE CADDIS. Perhaps every angler may not be awai^e that the May-fly (Phrj/ganco.) and the Caddis-worm are but one and the same insect in different stages of development ; such, however, is the case, the caddis-worm being the grub which afterwards changes into the winged fly. The caddis, during his ai|uatic existence, is a worm of no very prepossessing appearance, but he makes amends fur his own want of personal attrac- tion by investing himself witli a most pic- turesipie and original garment, which, in its formation, shows among difierent individuals a curious variety of taste, or instinct we must call it, in the selection and adaptation of the materials employed. Sometimes it is a col- lection of seeds of various plants that are cemented together to form the caddis-worm's case ; sometimes a grass- stem is cut into nearly equal lengths, and arranged in a polygonal form of great regularity. One specimen that we fished up had made choice of the clearest crystalline grains of quartz iVom among the sand, and had built himself a veritable crystal palace. But the oddest and most attractive of these little curiosities, are those composed of fresh-water shells, while still tenanted by their living inhabitants, and arranged together in grotto fashion (as shown in one of the accompanying figures), forming " a covering," as Kirb}- and Spence remark, " as singular as if a savage, instead of clothing himself with squirrel skins, should sew together into a coat the animals themselves." After a few months spent in these subaqueous operations, the caddis-worm retires into his cell, puts a grating over the aperture, and then shortly emerges in the shape of a large brown fly, to commence his aerial existence, happy while he can avoid the hook of the angler or the gulp of the trout, for now he is a " May-fly." \Ye constantly meet this insect haunting the water-side, and flitting about with a loose flight over the herbage ; in appearance it greatly resembles a moth, but the wings are semi-transparent, and covered with hairs, not scales, like those of the moth ; the prevailing colours are 176 THE LOOK OF THE THAMES. various shades of brown. The following note on the proceedings of a female May -fly is quoted from Patterson's Zoology, to which it was communicated by Mr. Ilyndman of Belfast, and may be of interest to our readers :— " I first observed the Phryganea on the leaf of an aquatic j.lant, from wliich it crept down along the stem under the water, very nearly a foot deep ; it aj.peared then to have been disturbed by some TnE JIAV-FI.V sticklebacks, which approached and seemed inclined to attack it, and swam vigorously and rapidly beneath the water, over to some other l)lants. I then took the insect up, and found a large bundle of eggs, of a "-reen colour, closely enveloped in a strong jelly-like substance, attached to the extremity of its abdomen." Tliis power of diving and fi-ee movement under water is very remarkable and unusual among winged insects. The trout is so well known that a few remarks only are necessary in reference to this the " best -loved" of all the fish of the river, not by the epicure so much as by the angler. The trout is, however, not very often caught in the Thames, there is so much space, and so ample a supply of food, that he will not often rise to the fly; on the other hand he lives, while he docs live, in the midst of so many enemies, that his chances of growth arc few. Those who do escape death, however, by good fortune, vigorous constitution, or peculiar watchfulness, grow to be a"-ed and very large ; usually every season there are a dozen or twenty trout caught in the Thames, weighing each between ten and twelve or fourteen pounds; but we do not often find them, as we do in other rivers, weighing l)etwcen one pound and two pounds ; and the '" fish of size" are usually caught by "spinning," the bait being a bleak, a small TUE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 177 dace, a gudgeon, or a minnow. The trout fisher, however, should go " farther a-field" who covets a good day's sport, and loves to walk along banks, scenting the thousand wild flowers that spring about him, in- haling the pleasant breeze, and listening to the songs that rise from meadow, tree, and bush — when " The wind from the south Drives tlic liook into the fish's mouth." The Common Trout (Salmo fario) is an inhabitant of most of the English lakes and rivers, yet varies considerably in appearance in different localities. Mr. Yarrell gives the history of several species — the salmon trout, the Great Lake trout, the liochleven trout, the bull trout, the Gillaroo trout, the sea trout, and the common trout. " The trout" — we quote from Yarrell — '■though a voracious feeder, and thus affording excellent diversion to the experienced angler, is so vigilant, cautious, and active, that great skill, as Avell as patience, are required to ensure success. During the day the larger sized fish move but little from tlieir accustomed haunts, l»ut towards evening they rise in search of small fish, insects, and their various larv;\% upon which they feed with eager- ness. Though vigilant and cautious in the extreme, the trout is also bold and active." A A 178 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. We never yet knew an ardent fly-fisher who was not also an enthusi- astic lover of nature ; in truth, it is almost impossible to separate the one from the other. The ti-out is an inhabitant of the swift, clear, running stream, where tlie banks are fringed with the tall flag, and the pebbly bottom is half concealed by beds of rushes, often extending many yards of continuous length, and rising to a level with the water. On the top of these beds, or in the narrow spaces between them, the trout lies with his nose against the stream, waiting to rise at any moth or fly that may chance to be floated down on its surface. The experienced angler knows a " likely place " where a fish is to be found, and casts his artificial fly, with wonderful precision, within a few inches of his nose, even at a distance of twenty or thirty yards. Other favourite spots of resort are close under high grassy banks, bushes, overhanging trees, eddies, behind fragments of rock and large stones, at the junction of streams ; in fact, wherever it is probable the current of the water will carry or collect such food as the trout prefers to feed on. If the trout be— as he unques- tionably is—" a bold and voracious feeder," he is readily alarmed, even by so slight a thing as the shadow of the line or the rod, if it chances to pass over liim, and when once frightened away from his home he does not soon return to it.* Angling is often called an "idle pastime," and we cannot deny that to sit in a comfortable chair in a firmly -moored punt on the bosom of the Thames seems an amusement open to such an imputation ; but to walk fifteen or twenty miles in a day, " whipping the water " from sunrise to sunset, during twelve or fourteen hours, is anything but an idle pastime. AYhatever fatigue it }»rings with it, however, it is pleasant, health - giving, and instructive — so far as to make the angler acquainted with much of the science of nature, animate and inanimate, and keenly sen- * A few years ago a trout weighing twenty-two and a half pounds was caught in the Tame, near Tamworth. It was at once forwarded to Sir Robert Peel, who, with his customary courtesy and con- sideration, immediately ordered it to be sent to Professor Owen. The professor had an accurate por- trait of the fish painted— or rather two portraits, one of which he presented to Sir Robei't, the other now graces his own cottage in Richmond r.arl;. He then took steps to preserve the skeleton, which is now at the Museum of the College of Surgeons. It was a pure trout, richly spotted, and although very aged, a remarkably beautiful fish. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. 179 sitive to the beauties that Providence, with so hivish a hand, spreads out before his gaze as he wanders by the side of the winding, silvery stream — " To tempt the trout with well-disscmblcd fly, And rod, tiiio tapering." During our rambles in the neighbourhood to which we are now^ intro- ducing our readers, an incident occurred which we recall to memory with much pleasure, especially as it is associated with the subject we are treating. It was a warm soft evening, and the shadows fell heavily across the green lane, which somewhat diverges from the line of our regal river, yet not out of sound of the breeze among its reeds and pollards : we could hear the sudden splash of the water-hen ; and, after a while of loitering and listening, we crossed a stile, and were again on the bank. The swallows were shimming the water, " hawking insects," and so intent on their sport, that they winged close to us in their undu- lating rounds. But we little heeded the swallows or the insects, our attention being at once attracted by a tall, thin old man, who, attended by a slim, fair-haired boy, was as busily employed with his rod as if the day were but just born; his face was turned towards the stream, but his silver hair and carved back told that he had passed even the autumn of his days. We saw by the motion of his rod that he had a " bite ; " yet when he drew in his line the little lad seized it, and took the fish off the hook. " I caught my last trout with a worm," said the old man, " and then we put on a minnow : sure it was a minnow, Alf ? " Yes, gran' father, a real minnow; but this is only a chuckle -headed chub." " The varlet 1 let me feel— let me feel," added the old man impa- tiently. He extended his thin, muscular hand, and the lad placed the fish in it, " A chub, sure enough,— cat's food '. We '11 move on and try another quarter of an hour — trout are so hard to get." " Gran'father, it grows late, the sun is long down, and the evening grey. Mother will fret, — you promised her you would be early home." 180 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES, " Not so, Alf, it can't be getting grey yet : Ave have been sucli a little time — so few fish ! AYhat did the church clock strike last ? It can't be sundown yet." The lad made some reply which we did not catch, and then ran towards us, — " Will you tell me the time, please '? " " Half-past eight." The old man caught the words and repeated them, — " Ay, I remem- ber, it grows a little grey at half-past eight." " Is your grandfather blind '? " " He is ciuite blind," answered the boy ; " he was once a great fisher- man, and it amuses him still, so mother often sends me witli him in the afternoons ; he takes such delight in it that he will never believe the night is at hand." We had heard of the " blind angler 1 " and were not a little pleased at the meeting. In a few minutes the old man warmed to a brother of the angle ; he sat beside us on the stile, and talked of the past, — old age loves to recall " the past," whether painful or pleasant. He had been a fisher in liis youth, a sailor in his manhood, and returned to his old haunts in the autumn of his days, incapacitated for active service by a severe wound in his knee. lie " whipped the river" Avith a "loving rod," until a flash ot lightning deprived him of sight. " More than ten years have passed," said the old man, "since I have seen sunlight or moonlight on the waters ; never, never shall I see fin of fish again— never see the flutter or the rise 1 but I can feel them and hear them. When his mother can- not spare the lad to stay with mc, my little gran'daughtcr leads me to the bank, and wliile she chases butterflies and gathers flowers — the sweet lamb !— I listen to the fish— I do, indeed ! I can tell the short quick turn of the bleak in the water ; I know the heavy scud of the barbel in the deeps ; and what column of soldiers ever marched more closely than the young eels in cd-fare time? I know afl the jioints and turns of the river so well—God bless it I— that I say, Lead me to such a turn or under such a tree ; and if they tell me the hour, I know which way the shadows lie, and what sport I shall have. I can still teach a TUE BOOK OF THE THAMES. ISl youngster liow to fisli for roacli in winter, Avitli paste and gentles, and in April witli worms ; many a roacli have I 'ticed to the top of the water, just by that old pollard yon — " " I have told gran'father the pollard is gone," interrupted the hoy. "Ay, ay, my lad, hut not the roach,'' said the blind man, turning his head quickly. " I could teach any youngster, sir, to make the best ground paste for roach and dace ; but he must have a small hook, a quick eye, and a nimble hand to catch them. Angling comes by nature— it can be improved, but it 's a gift, a wonderful gift : it 's more soothing than all the 'bacca that was ever grow'd in Virginia. Lord, sir, I could love a Frenchman while I 'm angling 1 This lad here is not a bad lad, though somewhat of a scoffer at angling. I thought to make him eyes to the blind ; but he doesn't learn, sir ; he tells me it 's night when I know the sun shines." " How can you say so, gran'father ? I' m sure it 's all the same as night now; I couldn't tell a bleak from a gudgeon by this light." "Nor by any other light," said the old man, reproachfully; " when I was his age there wasn't a fish in the stream, or a fly over it, but I knew — ay, as well as I did my Bible ; and there is much in the knowledge of the things that God makes to teach us God's power—not only His power, but His love : and I think more of the beauty of His works, now that I cannot see them, than ever I did when I had my blessed sight. But I should like to see the waters and the fish once more, and my little gran'child— the girl, I mean ; I know this lad— a little rosy, curly -headed fat thing ; it 's his being so fat makes him so lazy." The boy was as lean and as lank as a fishing-rod ; he looked at us, and said with a smile—"' INIother says I was as fat as Annie when I was a baby; gran'father calls mother a slim, pale girl, and she has such a red face!" This was an a^iidc, but it recalled to us the exquisite poem of " The Blind Man's Bride." The old sailor had such a touching habit of sitting with his head thrown back, and those sightless eyes up -looking to the heavens, and lus fingers clasped round his rod, — it was quite a picture. "• My daughter does not tire of her old blind father," he resumed, after 182 THE BOOK OF THE THAMES. a pause, " nor indeed does her husband, — he is a good son to me : still I bless God and her Majesty I am no burden to them, except in the way of kindness — that is another blessing. My daughter will not let me go near the river without the boy, so I promise her, and keep my word ; and the gentlemen who fish hereabout tell me of their sport, and I give them my advice, and sometimes they buy my nets. And one wnll have me in the punt ; but I soon weary of that — I like best my liberty of the stream — I like to cat my dinner on the soft sweet grass, and to know that some of God's creatures, the wild winged birds of the air, will dine off the poor man's crumbs." We made some observation as to his having a devotional spirit ; he answered that he ought to have : he had been shipwrecked once, and passed a night and part of a day on the deep floating on a spar. lie then learnt what it was to be alone Avith God, but he had no fear; he knew in "Whose care he Avas. This Avas said Avitli a simplicity that was positively sublime. " I have received," he said, while Ave walked Avith him towards his daughter's cottage, " I have received nothing but mercies and blessings all the days of my life ; yet I think I should have been happier if I could have looked on the blue Avaters and the bright fish to the last — I think I should — they are so pleasant 1 And yet — I can't tell : I have such dreams about streams and fishes that I wake up as refreshed as if I had been ten hours angling. Surely that in itself is a morcy, though I shall never, never in this Avorld see fin of