three men in a boat-第39节

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But　he　had。　　That　trout　lay　shattered　into　a　thousand　fragments　…　I　say　a　

thousand；　but　they　may　have　only　been　nine　hundred。　　I　did　not　count　

them。



We　thought　it　strange　and　unaccountable　that　a　stuffed　trout　should　break　

up　into　little　pieces　like　that。



And　so　it　would　have　been　strange　and　unaccountable；　if　it　had　been　a　

stuffed　trout；　but　it　was　not。



That　trout　was　plaster…of…Paris。









CHAPTER　XVIII。





LOCKS。　…　GEORGE　AND　I　ARE　PHOTOGRAPHED。　…　WALLINGFORD。　…　DORCHESTER。　…　

ABINGDON。　…　A　FAMILY　MAN。　…　A　GOOD　SPOT　FOR　DROWNING。　…　A　DIFFICULT　BIT　

OF　WATER。　…　DEMORALIZING　EFFECT　OF　RIVER　AIR。



WE　left　Streatley　early　the　next　morning；　and　pulled　up　to　Culham；　and　

slept　under　the　canvas；　in　the　backwater　there。



The　river　is　not　extraordinarily　interesting　between　Streatley　and　

Wallingford。　　From　Cleve　you　get　a　stretch　of　six　and　a　half　miles　

without　a　lock。　　I　believe　this　is　the　longest　uninterrupted　stretch　

anywhere　above　Teddington；　and　the　Oxford　Club　make　use　of　it　for　their　

trial　eights。



But　however　satisfactory　this　absence　of　locks　may　be　to　rowing…men；　it　

is　to　be　regretted　by　the　mere　pleasure…seeker。



For　myself；　I　am　fond　of　locks。　　They　pleasantly　break　the　monotony　of　

the　pull。　　I　like　sitting　in　the　boat　and　slowly　rising　out　of　the　cool　

depths　up　into　new　reaches　and　fresh　views；　or　sinking　down；　as　it　were；　

out　of　the　world；　and　then　waiting；　while　the　gloomy　gates　creak；　and　the　

narrow　strip　of　day…light　between　them　widens　till　the　fair　smiling　river　

lies　full　before　you；　and　you　push　your　little　boat　out　from　its　brief　

prison　on　to　the　welcoming　waters　once　again。



They　are　picturesque　little　spots；　these　locks。　　The　stout　old　lock…

keeper；　or　his　cheerful…looking　wife；　or　bright…eyed　daughter；　are　

pleasant　folk　to　have　a　passing　chat　with。　*　　You　meet　other　boats　there；　

and　river　gossip　is　exchanged。　　The　Thames　would　not　be　the　fairyland　it　

is　without　its　flower…decked　locks。



*　Or　rather　WERE。　　The　Conservancy　of　late　seems　to　have　constituted　

itself　into　a　society　for　the　employment　of　idiots。　　A　good　many　of　the　

new　lock…keepers；　especially　in　the　more　crowded　portions　of　the　river；　

are　excitable；　nervous　old　men；　quite　unfitted　for　their　post。



Talking　of　locks　reminds　me　of　an　accident　George　and　I　very　nearly　had　

one　summer's　morning　at　Hampton　Court。



It　was　a　glorious　day；　and　the　lock　was　crowded；　and；　as　is　a　common　

practice　up　the　river；　a　speculative　photographer　was　taking　a　picture　of　

us　all　as　we　lay　upon　the　rising　waters。



I　did　not　catch　what　was　going　on　at　first；　and　was；　therefore；　extremely　

surprised　at　noticing　George　hurriedly　smooth　out　his　trousers；　ruffle　up　

his　hair；　and　stick　his　cap　on　in　a　rakish　manner　at　the　back　of　his　

head；　and　then；　assuming　an　expression　of　mingled　affability　and　sadness；　

sit　down　in　a　graceful　attitude；　and　try　to　hide　his　feet。



My　first　idea　was　that　he　had　suddenly　caught　sight　of　some　girl　he　knew；　

and　I　looked　about　to　see　who　it　was。　　Everybody　in　the　lock　seemed　to　

have　been　suddenly　struck　wooden。　　They　were　all　standing　or　sitting　

about　in　the　most　quaint　and　curious　attitudes　I　have　ever　seen　off　a　

Japanese　fan。　　All　the　girls　were　smiling。　　Oh；　they　did　look　so　sweet！　　

And　all　the　fellows　were　frowning；　and　looking　stern　and　noble。



And　then；　at　last；　the　truth　flashed　across　me；　and　I　wondered　if　I　

should　be　in　time。　　Ours　was　the　first　boat；　and　it　would　be　unkind　of　me　

to　spoil　the　man's　picture；　I　thought。



So　I　faced　round　quickly；　and　took　up　a　position　in　the　prow；　where　I　

leant　with　careless　grace　upon　the　hitcher；　in　an　attitude　suggestive　of　

agility　and　strength。　　I　arranged　my　hair　with　a　curl　over　the　forehead；　

and　threw　an　air　of　tender　wistfulness　into　my　expression；　mingled　with　a　

touch　of　cynicism；　which　I　am　told　suits　me。



As　we　stood；　waiting　for　the　eventful　moment；　I　heard　someone　behind　call　

out：



〃Hi！　look　at　your　nose。〃



I　could　not　turn　round　to　see　what　was　the　matter；　and　whose　nose　it　was　

that　was　to　be　looked　at。　　I　stole　a　side…glance　at　George's　nose！　　It　

was　all　right　…　at　all　events；　there　was　nothing　wrong　with　it　that　could　

be　altered。　　I　squinted　down　at　my　own；　and　that　seemed　all　that　could　be　

expected　also。



〃Look　at　your　nose；　you　stupid　ass！〃　came　the　same　voice　again；　louder。



And　then　another　voice　cried：



〃Push　your　nose　out；　can't　you；　you　…　you　two　with　the　dog！〃



Neither　George　nor　I　dared　to　turn　round。　　The　man's　hand　was　on　the　cap；　

and　the　picture　might　be　taken　any　moment。　　Was　it　us　they　were　calling　

to？　　What　was　the　matter　with　our　noses？　　Why　were　they　to　be　pushed　out！



But　now　the　whole　lock　started　yelling；　and　a　stentorian　voice　from　the　

back　shouted：



〃Look　at　your　boat；　sir；　you　in　the　red　and　black　caps。　　It's　your　two　

corpses　that　will　get　taken　in　that　photo；　if　you　ain't　quick。〃



We　looked　then；　and　saw　that　the　nose　of　our　boat　had　got　fixed　under　the　

woodwork　of　the　lock；　while　the　in…coming　water　was　rising　all　around　it；　

and　tilting　it　up。　　In　another　moment　we　should　be　over。　　Quick　as　

thought；　we　each　seized　an　oar；　and　a　vigorous　blow　against　the　side　of　

the　lock　with　the　butt…ends　released　the　boat；　and　sent　us　sprawling　on　

our　backs。



We　did　not　come　out　well　in　that　photograph；　George　and　I。　　Of　course；　as　

was　to　be　expected；　our　luck　ordained　it；　that　the　man　should　set　his　

wretched　machine　in　motion　at　the　precise　moment　that　we　were　both　lying　

on　our　backs　with　a　wild　expression　of　〃Where　am　I？　and　what　is　it？〃　on　

our　faces；　and　our　four　feet　waving　madly　in　the　air。



Our　feet　were　undoubtedly　the　leading　article　in　that　photograph。　　

Indeed；　very　little　else　was　to　be　seen。　　They　filled　up　the　foreground　

entirely。　　Behind　them；　you　caught　glimpses　of　the　other　boats；　and　bits　

of　the　surrounding　scenery；　but　everything　and　everybody　else　in　the　lock　

looked　so　utterly　insignificant　and　paltry　compared　with　our　feet；　that　

all　the　other　people　felt　quite　ashamed　of　themselves；　and　refused　to　

subscribe　to　the　picture。



The　owner　of　one　steam　launch；　who　had　bespoke　six　copies；　rescinded　the　

order　on　seeing　the　negative。　　He　said　he　would　take　them　if　anybody　

could　show　him　his　launch；　but　nobody　could。　　It　was　somewhere　behind　

George's　right　foot。



There　was　a　good　deal　of　unpleasantness　over　the　business。　　The　

photographer　thought　we　ought　to　take　a　dozen　copies　each；　seeing　that　

the　photo　was　about　nine…tenths　us；　but　we　declined。　　We　said　we　had　no　

objection　to　being　photo'd　full…length；　but　we　preferred　being　taken　the　

right　way　up。



Wallingford；　six　miles　above　Streatley；　is　a　very　ancient　town；　and　has　

been　an　active　centre　for　the　making　of　English　history。　　It　was　a　rude；　

mud…built　town　in　the　time　of　the　Britons；　who　squatted　there；　until　the　

Roman　legions　evicted　them；　and　replaced　their　clay…baked　walls　by　mighty　

fortifications；　the　trace　of　which　Time　has　not　yet　succeeded　in　sweeping　

away；　so　well　those　old…world　masons　knew　how　to　build。



But　Time；　though　he　halted　at　Roman　walls；　soon　crumbled　Romans　to　dust；　

and　on　the　ground；　in　later　years；　fought　savage　Saxons　and　huge　Danes；　

until　the　Normans　came。



It　was　a　walled　and　fortified　town　up　to　the　time　of　the　Parliamentary　

War；　when　it　suffered　a　long　and　bitter　siege　from　Fairfax。　　It　fell　at　

last；　and　then　the　walls　were　razed。



From　Wallingford　up　to　Dorchester　the　neighbourhood　of　the　river　grows　

more　hilly；　varied；　and　picturesque。　　Dorchester　stands　half　a　mile　from　

the　river。　　It　can　be　reached　by　paddling　up　the　Thame；　if　you　have　a　

small　boat；　but　the　best　way　is　to　leave　the　river　at　Day's　Lock；　and　

take　a　walk　across　the　fields。　　Dorchester　is　a　delightfully　peaceful　old　

place；　nestling　in　stillness　and　silence　and　drowsiness。



Dorchester；　like　Wallingford；　was　a　city　in　ancient　British　times；　it　was　

then　called　Caer　Doren；　〃the　city　on　the　water。〃　　In　more　recent　times　

the　Romans　formed　a　great　camp　here；　the　fortifications　surrounding　which　

now　seem　like　low；　even　hills。　　In　Saxon　days　it　was　the　capital　of　

Wessex。　　It　is　very　old；　and　it　was　very　strong　and　great　once。　　Now　it　

sits　aside　from　the　stirring　world；　and　nods　and　dreams。



Round　Clifton　Hampden；　itself　a　wonderfully　pretty　village；　old…

fashioned；　peaceful；　and　dainty　with　flowers；　the　river　scenery　is　rich　

and　beautiful。　　If　you　stay　the　night　on　land　at　Clifton；　you　cannot　do　

better　than　put　up　at　the　〃Barley　Mow。〃　　It　is；　without　exception；　I　

should　say；　the　quaintest；　most　old…world　inn　up　the　river。　　It　stands　on　

the　right　of　the　bridge；　quite　away　from　the　village。　　Its　low…pitched　

gables　and　thatched　roof　and　latticed　windows　give　it　quite　a　story…book　

appearance；　while　inside　it　is　even　still　more　onc