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We
looked
then
,
and
saw
that
the
nose
of
our
boat
had
got
fixed
under
the
woodwork
of
the
lock
,
while
the
incoming
water
was
rising
all
around
it
,
and
tilting
it
up
.
In
another
moment
we
should
be
over
.
Quick
as
thought
,
we
each
seized
an
oar
,
and
a
vigorous
blow
against
the
side
of
the
lock
with
the
butt-ends
released
the
boat
,
and
sent
us
sprawling
on
our
backs
.
We
did
not
come
out
well
in
that
photograph
,
George
and
I.
Of
course
,
as
was
to
be
expected
,
our
luck
ordained
it
,
that
the
man
should
set
his
wretched
machine
in
motion
at
the
precise
moment
that
we
were
both
lying
on
our
backs
with
a
wild
expression
of
"
Where
am
I
?
and
what
is
it
?
"
on
our
faces
,
and
our
four
feet
waving
madly
in
the
air
.
Our
feet
were
undoubtedly
the
leading
article
in
that
photograph
.
Indeed
,
very
little
else
was
to
be
seen
.
They
filled
up
the
foreground
entirely
.
Behind
them
,
you
caught
glimpses
of
the
other
boats
,
and
bits
of
the
surrounding
scenery
;
but
everything
and
everybody
else
in
the
lock
looked
so
utterly
insignificant
and
paltry
compared
with
our
feet
,
that
all
the
other
people
felt
quite
ashamed
of
themselves
,
and
refused
to
subscribe
to
the
picture
.
The
owner
of
one
steam
launch
,
who
had
bespoke
six
copies
,
rescinded
the
order
on
seeing
the
negative
.
He
said
he
would
take
them
if
anybody
could
show
him
his
launch
,
but
nobody
could
.
It
was
somewhere
behind
George
's
right
foot
.
There
was
a
good
deal
of
unpleasantness
over
the
business
.
The
photographer
thought
we
ought
to
take
a
dozen
copies
each
,
seeing
that
the
photo
was
about
nine-tenths
us
,
but
we
declined
.
We
said
we
had
no
objection
to
being
photo
'd
full-length
,
but
we
preferred
being
taken
the
right
way
up
.
Wallingford
,
six
miles
above
Streatley
,
is
a
very
ancient
town
,
and
has
been
an
active
centre
for
the
making
of
English
history
.
It
was
a
rude
,
mud-built
town
in
the
time
of
the
Britons
,
who
squatted
there
,
until
the
Roman
legions
evicted
them
;
and
replaced
their
clay-baked
walls
by
mighty
fortifications
,
the
trace
of
which
Time
has
not
yet
succeeded
in
sweeping
away
,
so
well
those
old-world
masons
knew
how
to
build
.
But
Time
,
though
he
halted
at
Roman
walls
,
soon
crumbled
Romans
to
dust
;
and
on
the
ground
,
in
later
years
,
fought
savage
Saxons
and
huge
Danes
,
until
the
Normans
came
.
It
was
a
walled
and
fortified
town
up
to
the
time
of
the
Parliamentary
War
,
when
it
suffered
a
long
and
bitter
siege
from
Fairfax
.
It
fell
at
last
,
and
then
the
walls
were
razed
.
From
Wallingford
up
to
Dorchester
the
neighbourhood
of
the
river
grows
more
hilly
,
varied
,
and
picturesque
.
Dorchester
stands
half
a
mile
from
the
river
.
It
can
be
reached
by
paddling
up
the
Thame
,
if
you
have
a
small
boat
;
but
the
best
way
is
to
leave
the
river
at
Day
's
Lock
,
and
take
a
walk
across
the
fields
.
Dorchester
is
a
delightfully
peaceful
old
place
,
nestling
in
stillness
and
silence
and
drowsiness
.
