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