umbrella and go out.

It must have been much like this when that foolish boy Henry VIII. was
courting his little Anne. People in Buckinghamshire would have come upon
them unexpectedly when they were mooning round Windsor and Wraysbury, and
have exclaimed, "Oh! you here!" and Henry would have blushed and said,
"Yes; he'd just come over to see a man;" and Anne would have said, "Oh,
I'm so glad to see you! Isn't it funny? I've just met Mr. Henry VIII.
in the lane, and he's going the same way I am."

Then those people would have gone away and said to themselves: "Oh! we'd
better get out of here while this billing and cooing is on. We'll go
down to Kent."

And they would go to Kent, and the first thing they would see in Kent,
when they got there, would be Henry and Anne fooling round Hever Castle.

"Oh, drat this!" they would have said. "Here, let's go away. I can't
stand any more of it. Let's go to St. Albans--nice quiet place, St.
Albans."

[Picture: River scene]

And when they reached St. Albans, there would be that wretched couple,
kissing under the Abbey walls. Then these folks would go and be pirates
until the marriage was over.

From Picnic Point to Old Windsor Lock is a delightful bit of the river.
A shady road, dotted here and there with dainty little cottages, runs by
the bank up to the "Bells of Ouseley," a picturesque inn, as most
up-river inns are, and a place where a very good glass of ale may be
drunk--so Harris says; and on a matter of this kind you can take Harris's
word. Old Windsor is a famous spot in its way. Edward the Confessor had
a palace here, and here the great Earl Godwin was proved guilty by the
justice of that age of having encompassed the death of the King's
brother. Earl Godwin broke a piece of bread and held it in his hand.

"If I am guilty," said the Earl, "may this bread choke me when I eat it!"

Then he put the bread into his mouth and swallowed it, and it choked him,
and he died.

After you pass Old Windsor, the river is somewhat uninteresting, and does
not become itself again until you are nearing Boveney. George and I
towed up past the Home Park, which stretches along the right bank from
Albert to Victoria Bridge; and as we were passing Datchet, George asked
me if I remembered our first trip up the river, and when we landed at
Datchet at ten o'clock at night, and wanted to go to bed.

I answered that I did remember it. It will be some t