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We
had
originally
intended
to
go
on
to
Magna
Charta
Island
,
a
sweetly
pretty
part
of
the
river
,
where
it
winds
through
a
soft
,
green
valley
,
and
to
camp
in
one
of
the
many
picturesque
inlets
to
be
found
round
that
tiny
shore
.
But
,
somehow
,
we
did
not
feel
that
we
yearned
for
the
picturesque
nearly
so
much
now
as
we
had
earlier
in
the
day
.
A
bit
of
water
between
a
coal-barge
and
a
gas-works
would
have
quite
satisfied
us
for
that
night
.
We
did
not
want
scenery
.
We
wanted
to
have
our
supper
and
go
to
bed
.
However
,
we
did
pull
up
to
the
point
--
"
Picnic
Point
,
"
it
is
called
--
and
dropped
into
a
very
pleasant
nook
under
a
great
elm-tree
,
to
the
spreading
roots
of
which
we
fastened
the
boat
.
Then
we
thought
we
were
going
to
have
supper
(
we
had
dispensed
with
tea
,
so
as
to
save
time
)
,
but
George
said
no
;
that
we
had
better
get
the
canvas
up
first
,
before
it
got
quite
dark
,
and
while
we
could
see
what
we
were
doing
.
Then
,
he
said
,
all
our
work
would
be
done
,
and
we
could
sit
down
to
eat
with
an
easy
mind
.
That
canvas
wanted
more
putting
up
than
I
think
any
of
us
had
bargained
for
.
It
looked
so
simple
in
the
abstract
.
You
took
five
iron
arches
,
like
gigantic
croquet
hoops
,
and
fitted
them
up
over
the
boat
,
and
then
stretched
the
canvas
over
them
,
and
fastened
it
down
:
it
would
take
quite
ten
minutes
,
we
thought
.
That
was
an
under-estimate
.
We
took
up
the
hoops
,
and
began
to
drop
them
into
the
sockets
placed
for
them
.
You
would
not
imagine
this
to
be
dangerous
work
;
but
,
looking
back
now
,
the
wonder
to
me
is
that
any
of
us
are
alive
to
tell
the
tale
.
They
were
not
hoops
,
they
were
demons
.
First
they
would
not
fit
into
their
sockets
at
all
,
and
we
had
to
jump
on
them
,
and
kick
them
,
and
hammer
at
them
with
the
boat-hook
;
and
,
when
they
were
in
,
it
turned
out
that
they
were
the
wrong
hoops
for
those
particular
sockets
,
and
they
had
to
come
out
again
.
But
they
would
not
come
out
,
until
two
of
us
had
gone
and
struggled
with
them
for
five
minutes
,
when
they
would
jump
up
suddenly
,
and
try
and
throw
us
into
the
water
and
drown
us
.
They
had
hinges
in
the
middle
,
and
,
when
we
were
not
looking
,
they
nipped
us
with
these
hinges
in
delicate
parts
of
the
body
;
and
,
while
we
were
wrestling
with
one
side
of
the
hoop
,
and
endeavouring
to
persuade
it
to
do
its
duty
,
the
other
side
would
come
behind
us
in
a
cowardly
manner
,
and
hit
us
over
the
head
.
We
got
them
fixed
at
last
,
and
then
all
that
was
to
be
done
was
to
arrange
the
covering
over
them
.
George
unrolled
it
,
and
fastened
one
end
over
the
nose
of
the
boat
.
Harris
stood
in
the
middle
to
take
it
from
George
and
roll
it
on
to
me
,
and
I
kept
by
the
stern
to
receive
it
.
It
was
a
long
time
coming
down
to
me
.
George
did
his
part
all
right
,
but
it
was
new
work
to
Harris
,
and
he
bungled
it
.
How
he
managed
it
I
do
not
know
,
he
could
not
explain
himself
;
but
by
some
mysterious
process
or
other
he
succeeded
,
after
ten
minutes
of
superhuman
effort
,
in
getting
himself
completely
rolled
up
in
it
.
He
was
so
firmly
wrapped
round
and
tucked
in
and
folded
over
,
that
he
could
not
get
out
.
He
,
of
course
,
made
frantic
struggles
for
freedom
--
the
birthright
of
every
Englishman
,
--
and
,
in
doing
so
(
I
learned
this
afterwards
)
,
knocked
over
George
;
and
then
George
,
swearing
at
Harris
,
began
to
struggle
too
,
and
got
himself
entangled
and
rolled
up
.
