In these upper reaches it was still in a prodigious hurry for the

sea. It ran so fast and merrily, through all the windings of its
channel, that I strained my thumb, fighting with the rapids, and

had to paddle all the rest of the way with one hand turned up.
Sometimes it had to serve mills; and being still a little river,

ran very dry and shallow in the meanwhile. We had to put our legs
out of the boat, and shove ourselves off the sand of the bottom

with our feet. And still it went on its way singing among the
poplars, and making a green valley in the world. After a good

woman, and a good book, and tobacco, there is nothing so agreeable
on earth as a river. I forgave it its attempt on my life; which

was after all one part owing to the unruly winds of heaven that had
blown down the tree, one part to my own mismanagement, and only a

third part to the river itself, and that not out of malice, but
from its great preoccupation over its business of getting to the

sea. A difficult business, too; for the detours it had to make are
not to be counted. The geographers seem to have given up the

attempt; for I found no map represent the infinite contortion of
its course. A fact will say more than any of them. After we had

been some hours, three if I mistake not, flitting by the trees at
this smooth, break-neck gallop, when we came upon a hamlet and

asked where we were, we had got no farther than four kilometres
(say two miles and a half) from Origny. If it were not for the

honour of the thing (in the Scots saying), we might almost as well
have been standing still.

We lunched on a meadow inside a parallelogram of poplars. The
leaves danced and prattled in the wind all round about us. The

river hurried on meanwhile, and seemed to chide at our delay.
Little we cared. The river knew where it was going; not so we:

the less our hurry, where we found good quarters and a pleasant
theatre for a pipe. At that hour, stockbrokers were shouting in

Paris Bourse for two or three per cent.; but we minded them as
little as the sliding stream, and sacrificed a hecatomb of minutes

to the gods of tobacco and digestion. Hurry is the resource of the
faithless. Where a man can trust his own heart, and those of his

friends, to-morrow is as good as to-day. And if he die in the
meanwhile, why then, there he dies, and the question is solved.

We had to take to the canal in the course of the afternoon;
because, where it crossed the river, there was, not a bridge, but a

siphon. If it had not been for an excited fellow on the bank, we
should have paddled right into the siphon, and thenceforward not

paddled any more. We met a man, a gentleman, on the tow-path, who
was much interested in our cruise. And I was witness to a strange

seizure of lying suffered by the CIGARETTE: who, because his knife
came from Norway, narrated all sorts of adventures in that country,

where he has never been. He was quite feverish at the end, and
pleaded demoniacal possession.

Moy (pronounce Moy) was a pleasant little village, gathered round a
chateau in a moat. The air was perfumed with hemp from

neighbouring fields. At the Golden Sheep we found excellent
entertainment. German shells from the siege of La Fere, Nurnberg

figures, gold-fish in a bowl, and all manner of knick-knacks,
embellished the public room. The landlady was a stout, plain,

short-sighted, motherly body, with something not far short of a
genius for cookery. She had a guess of her excellence herself.

After every dish was sent in, she would come and look on at the
dinner for a while, with puckered, blinking eyes. 'C'EST BON,

N'EST-CE PAS?' she would say; and when she had received a proper
answer, she disappeared into the kitchen. That common French dish,

partridge and cabbages, became a new thing in my eyes at the Golden
Sheep; and many subsequent dinners have bitterly disappointed me in

consequence. Sweet was our rest in the Golden Sheep at Moy.
LA FERE OF CURSED MEMORY

WE lingered in Moy a good part of the day, for we were fond of
being philosophical, and scorned long journeys and early starts on

principle. The place, moreover, invited to repose. People in
elaborate shooting costumes sallied from the chateau with guns and

game-bags; and this was a pleasure in itself, to remain behind
while these elegant pleasure-seekers took the first of the morning.

In this way, all the world may be an aristocrat, and play the duke
among marquises, and the reigning monarch among dukes, if he will

only outvie them in tranquillity. An imperturbable demeanour comes
from perfect patience. Quiet minds cannot be perplexed or

frightened, but go on in fortune or misfortune at their own private
pace, like a clock during a thunderstorm.

We made a very short day of it to La Fere; but the dusk was
falling, and a small rain had begun before we stowed the boats. La

Fere is a fortified town in a plain, and has two belts of rampart.
Between the first and the second extends a region of waste land and

cultivated patches. Here and there along the wayside were posters
forbidding trespass in the name of military engineering. At last,

a second gateway admitted us to the town itself. Lighted windows
looked gladsome, whiffs of comfortable cookery came abroad upon the

air. The town was full of the military reserve, out for the French
Autumn Manoeuvres, and the reservists walked speedily and wore

their formidable great-coats. It was a fine night to be within
doors over dinner, and hear the rain upon the windows.

The CIGARETTE and I could not sufficientlycongratulate each other
on the prospect, for we had been told there was a capital inn at La

Fere. Such a dinner as we were going to eat! such beds as we were
to sleep in! - and all the while the rain raining on houseless folk

over all the poplared countryside! It made our mouths water. The
inn bore the name of some woodland animal, stag, or hart, or hind,

I forget which. But I shall never forget how spacious and how
eminently habitable it looked as we drew near. The carriage entry

was lighted up, not by intention, but from the mere superfluity of
fire and candle in the house. A rattle of many dishes came to our

ears; we sighted a great field of table-cloth; the kitchen glowed
like a forge and smelt like a garden of things to eat.

Into this, the inmost shrine and physiological heart of a hostelry,
with all its furnaces in action, and all its dressers charged with

viands, you are now to suppose us making our triumphal entry, a
pair of damp rag-and-bone men, each with a limp india-rubber bag

upon his arm. I do not believe I have a sound view of that
kitchen; I saw it through a sort of glory: but it seemed to me

crowded with the snowy caps of cookmen, who all turned round from
their saucepans and looked at us with surprise. There was no doubt

about the landlady, however: there she was, heading her army, a
flushed, angry woman, full of affairs. Her I asked politely - too

politely, thinks the CIGARETTE - if we could have beds: she
surveying us coldly from head to foot.

'You will find beds in the suburb,' she remarked. 'We are too busy
for the like of you.'

If we could make an entrance, change our clothes, and order a
bottle of wine, I felt sure we could put things right; so said I:

'If we cannot sleep, we may at least dine,' - and was for
depositing my bag.

What a terrible convulsion of nature was that which followed in the
landlady's face! She made a run at us, and stamped her foot.

'Out with you - out of the door!' she screeched. 'SORTEZ! SORTEZ!
SORTEZ PAR LA PORTE!'

I do not know how it happened, but next moment we were out in the
rain and darkness, and I was cursing before the carriage entry like

a disappointed mendicant. Where were the boating men of Belgium?
where the Judge and his good wines? and where the graces of Origny?

Black, black was the night after the firelit kitchen; but what was
that to the blackness in our heart? This was not the first time

that I have been refused a lodging. Often and often have I planned
what I should do if such a misadventure happened to me again. And

nothing is easier to plan. But to put in execution, with the heart