And the river wanders and thither hither among the islets,
and is smothered and broken up by the reeds, like an old building in
the lithe, hardy arms of the climbing ivy. You may watch the box
where the good man of the inn keeps fish alive for his kitchen, one
oily ripple following another over the top of the yellow deal. And
you can hear a splashing and a prattle of voices from the shed under
the old kirk, where the village women wash and wash all day among the
fish and water-lilies. It seems as if linen washed there should be
specially cool and sweet.
We have come here for the river. And no sooner have we all bathed
than we board the two shallops and push off gaily, and go gliding
under the trees and gathering a great treasure of water-lilies. Some
one sings; some trail their hands in the cool water; some lean over
the gunwale to see the image of the tall poplars far below, and the
shadow of the boat, with the balanced oars and their own head
protruded, glide smoothly over the yellow floor of the stream. At
last, the day declining - all silent and happy, and up to the knees
in the wet lilies - we punt slowly back again to the landing-place
beside the bridge.
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