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his kind about in this overcrowded nineteenth century.

From Abingdon to Nuneham Courteney is a lovely stretch. Nuneham Park is



well worth a visit. It can be viewed on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The

house contains a fine collection of pictures and curiosities, and the



grounds are very beautiful.

The pool under Sandford lasher, just behind the lock, is a very good



place to drown yourself in. The undercurrent is terribly strong, and if

you once get down into it you are all right. An obelisk marks the spot



where two men have already been drowned, while bathing there; and the

steps of the obelisk are generally used as a diving-board by young men



now who wish to see if the place really IS dangerous.

Iffley Lock and Mill, a mile before you reach Oxford, is a favourite



subject with the river-loving brethren of the brush. The real article,

however, is rather disappointing, after the pictures. Few things, I have



noticed, come quite up to the pictures of them, in this world.

We passed through Iffley Lock at about half-past twelve, and then, having



tidied up the boat and made all ready for landing, we set to work on our

last mile.



Between Iffley and Oxford is the most difficult bit of the river I know.

You want to be born on that bit of water, to understand it. I have been



over it a fairish number of times, but I have never been able to get the

hang of it. The man who could row a straight course from Oxford to



Iffley ought to be able to live comfortably, under one roof, with his

wife, his mother-in-law, his elder sister, and the old servant who was in



the family when he was a baby.

First the current drives you on to the right bank, and then on to the



left, then it takes you out into the middle, turns you round three times,

and carries you up stream again, and always ends by trying to smash you



up against a college barge.

Of course, as a consequence of this, we got in the way of a good many



other boats, during the mile, and they in ours, and, of course, as a

consequence of that, a good deal of bad language occurred.



I don't know why it should be, but everybody is always so exceptionally

irritable on the river. Little mishaps, that you would hardly notice on



dry land, drive you nearly frantic with rage, when they occur on the

water. When Harris or George makes an ass of himself on dry land, I



smile indulgently; when they behave in a chuckle-head way on the river, I

use the most blood-curdling language to them. When another boat gets in



my way, I feel I want to take an oar and kill all the people in it.

The mildest tempered people, when on land, become violent and blood-



thirsty when in a boat. I did a little boating once with a young lady.

She was naturally of the sweetest and gentlest disposition imaginable,



but on the river it was quite awful to hear her.

"Oh, drat the man!" she would exclaim, when some unfortunate sculler



would get in her way; "why don't he look where he's going?"

And, "Oh, bother the silly old thing!" she would say indignantly, when



the sail would not go up properly. And she would catch hold of it, and

shake it quite brutally.



Yet, as I have said, when on shore she was kind-hearted and amiable

enough.



The air of the river has a demoralising effect upon one's temper, and

this it is, I suppose, which causes even barge men to be sometimes rude



to one another, and to use language which, no doubt, in their calmer

moments they regret.



CHAPTER XIX.

OXFORD. - MONTMORENCY'S IDEA OF HEAVEN. - THE HIRED UP-RIVER BOAT, ITS



BEAUTIES AND ADVANTAGES. - THE "PRIDE OF THE THAMES." - THE WEATHER

CHANGES. - THE RIVER UNDER DIFFERENT ASPECTS. - NOT A CHEERFUL EVENING. -



YEARNINGS FOR THE UNATTAINABLE. - THE CHEERY CHAT GOES ROUND. - GEORGE

PERFORMS UPON THE BANJO. - A MOURNFUL MELODY. - ANOTHER WET DAY. -



FLIGHT. - A LITTLE SUPPER AND A TOAST.

WE spent two very pleasant days at Oxford. There are plenty of dogs in



the town of Oxford. Montmorency had eleven fights on the first day, and

fourteen on the second, and evidently thought he had got to heaven.



Among folk too constitutionally weak, or too constitutionally lazy,

whichever it may be, to relish up-stream work, it is a common practice to



get a boat at Oxford, and row down. For the energetic, however, the up-

stream journey is certainly to be preferred. It does not seem good to be



always going with the current. There is more satisfaction in squaring

one's back, and fighting against it, and winning one's way forward in



spite of it - at least, so I feel, when Harris and George are sculling

and I am steering.



To those who do contemplate making Oxford their starting-place, I would

say, take your own boat - unless, of course, you can take someone else's






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