We Went Through Maidenhead Quickly, And Then Eased Up, And Took Leisurely
That Grand Reach Beyond Boulter's And Cookham Locks.
Clieveden Woods
still wore their dainty dress of spring, and rose up, from the water's
edge, in one long harmony of blended shades of fairy green.
In its
unbroken loveliness this is, perhaps, the sweetest stretch of all the
river, and lingeringly we slowly drew our little boat away from its deep
peace.
We pulled up in the backwater, just below Cookham, and had tea; and, when
we were through the lock, it was evening. A stiffish breeze had sprung
up - in our favour, for a wonder; for, as a rule on the river, the wind
is always dead against you whatever way you go. It is against you in the
morning, when you start for a day's trip, and you pull a long distance,
thinking how easy it will be to come back with the sail. Then, after
tea, the wind veers round, and you have to pull hard in its teeth all the
way home.
When you forget to take the sail at all, then the wind is consistently in
your favour both ways. But there! this world is only a probation, and
man was born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.
This evening, however, they had evidently made a mistake, and had put the
wind round at our back instead of in our face. We kept very quiet about
it, and got the sail up quickly before they found it out, and then we
spread ourselves about the boat in thoughtful attitudes, and the sail
bellied out, and strained, and grumbled at the mast, and the boat flew.
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