Year: 1879

yiOus erusa end others with which it 1t unneces- s&ry to trouble the 1eider thr publication of the count of them has been deferred until the present | time.-T. WI

 1 A busy man, living by my pen, wearied ot l and worried with work, when the time came round for taking my usual summer holiday, l had almost lost the power to make the effort needed for the start. Switzerland, Norway, even Scotland, - to reach any of these coun- tries involved a journey which felt in my present mood and state of health an extreme disinclinaton to take. This state of feeling should have warned me of the necessity for rest and change. My nerves were unstrung, and wanted rest but was in the slavery of ] authorship. had given up for a time the press and magazine writing which afforded a sufficient income for my simple wants, in or der to devote myself to considerable work from which 1 hoped to gain more reputation than could be got from anonymous contribu- tions; and was under an engagement to de- 1 liver a certain quantity of manuscript to my l publisher by the autumn, on which, unfortu- | nately, had received considerable advance. The weight was still very short, and l knew well that if took regular holiday I should never make good the deficiency in time. Had | I been living with friends, they would have made me take the rest needed; but l was my own master, living in chambers, with no one to criticise, or to keep me to regular habits, l save my uOuSekceptT, WHOSE frequent TcildTkS on my ill-looks and late hours had become at 1 last simply irritating. And thus the days pas sed with the inclination to work growing ever ] less, without recreation or amusement,-i l the appearance of industry without it's results. l One sultry evening in July, at the close of a 1 day spent in the seclusion of my chambers with little result save headache and feel | ing of exhaustion, which was now the only l form of hunger l ever experienced, while sauntering down the hot stuffy street by way of taking exercise, mere to gratify my house. keeper u an myself, I met my friend Tom Wyatt, whom 1 had not seen for some time and who at once noticed my ill-looks. ''You are looking as if you had taken too 1 | large dose of the London season, my uear fellow" he said. "You ought to anticipate your usual holiday and ho off to Switzerland at once. never saw you look so used-up be- l fore"

 Irepudiated the cause ascribed for my ap- pearance, for I had been leading hermit's life and said that did not see the way to go- ing abroad this year. or anywhere far from town.

 'sThen why don't you do as do," he re- piled, land take suburban lodgings on the riv- CT? 1 am living down at Stalnham. l have got lodging at the mans from whom hire my boat. I get swim in the river every morning before come up, and pull every

 

 how fresh and jolly the air is on the river of an evening" quite different to this stuffy London air. Lots of fellows 1 know are living down there for the summer, and the best inn is next door to my lodgings so there plenty of com pany. We have capital train morning and evening, and we have just time for rubber going down. It's far better diggins than Swift zerland or the Rhine. and everso much cheap er." And my friend went on to urge me to Hoto fAr foy Hav cy1,ifb and get some boating and fresh air.

 But the prospect of living in bustling country town. next door to a riverside inn, which Wyatt mentioned casually was doing roaring trade" at this season, had no at traction for me in my present mood, still less the making one in a rubber while being hur ried along at forty miles an hour The notion of month or so passed on the river 1 replied, seemed a very pleasant one but should like some quictcr place than he had chosen. For I wanted quiet, and freedom from interrup- tion for study and writing. was in arrears already with some literary work had on hand, and must make up for lost time. A secluded cottage on the river, now, or lodgings in quiet farmhouse, would be just the thing for me.

 Wyatt observed that cottages with a river frontage commanded very high rents at this season; but if he saw or heard of anything

 

 Two or three days after this got a note from him, to say that he had found the very place that wanted; and he proposed that we should go and look at it together that after noon, starting by the five o'clock train l met him, accordingly, at the station, at the time appointed. We did not stop at Stain ham going down, for Wyatt said that it would be too long pull from there up to our desti- nation. So, passing that place. we got out at Maddeley, station some twenty minutes fur ther down the line also on the river bank. Here hiring boat, Wyatt took the sculls, and l sat lazily in the stern, as he pulled up stream for our destination.

 l was lovely summers evening" and the quiet of the peaceful scene acted like balm on my worried nerves. This was evidently just the sort of life to suit me- 1 wondered that had never thought of spending the summer on the river before; and was ready to take the cottage before had seen it, and determined to be pleased with it, whatever sort of place it might prove to be.

 Wyatt had not seen it either, although SO familiar with the rver It was on the tail of mill stream, he explained, and separated from the main channel by an islanu. f1e had heard of it from a friend, who, coming down the river, had stopped to bathe in this back stream, and had observed the cottage, with notice that it was to be let. Rather jungle

 

 damp; but it might do well enough for the summer. "Here we are at the place itself" continued Wyatt, '' and we shall be able to judge for ourselves" And as he spoke he turned the boat to the left, off the main chan nek and pulled up narrow branch scarcely wide enough for playing the sculls. He rowed for about furlong up this chan nel On our right was the island which sepa- rated it from the main stream, meadow and osier land or our left also meadow, succeed ed by wood, which terminated in an ill-kept lawn of three or four acres, overgrown with shrubs, on which, about fifty yards back from the stream, was the cottage A board sus- pended to a post on the bank announced in letters almost obliterated by damp, that the house was to be let, furnished, and that the key was kept at the mill. Of this mill we could just catch glimpse, higher up the chan nel, through the thick underwood that lined the banks, and between the posts of some ne- 1 glected eelpots; but we could hear plainly the ] sound of the water rushing through the race I of which this channel formed the termination and for this point, accordingly, we now made, l Wyatt with difficulty forcing the boat through the eel pots, and bunting past the overhang- 1 ing bushes. Approaching the mill our prog ress was stopped by some stakes, partly above and partly under the water, which crossed the channel where it narrowed just below the l bridge that connected the mlll With the maln- l land. Fastening the boat to these stakes, where they joined the shore, we proceeded in quest of the miller, whom we found indoors. 1 The miller told us we should have found the cottage open; it was always left open during the day to air it. His daughter had just gone to shut it up for the night, but we could get there in time to see it first, if we went back at once. So leaving our boat fastened below the bridge, we crossed it and walked back. Passing through an orchard we entered

 little wood which extended along the bank of the stream, so thick and overgown that the path could hardly be made out, which enclos- ed the upper side of the lawn on which the cottage stood. Emerging from this wood, and crossing the lawn we now saw, what no doubt

 we might have seen in the first instance, that

 the front door was wide open, and several of the windows, to let Tn the mild summer air. of

 which certainly too much could not reach it through the overgrown vegetation which sur

 rounded the place; and we now entered the cottape to insnct if