river, yet not offended by the rising of its waters in floods or
storms; near to the reflux of the tides, but not quite so near as
to be affected with any foulness of the water which the flowing of
the tides generally is the occasion of. The gardens extend almost
to the bank of the river, yet are never overflowed; nor are there
any marshes on either side the river to make the waters stagnate,
or the air unwholesome on that account. The river is high enough
to be navigable, and low enough to be a little pleasantly rapid; so
that the stream looks always cheerful, not slow and sleeping, like
a pond. This keeps the waters always clear and clean, the bottom
in view, the fish playing and in sight; and, in a word, it has
everything that can make an inland (or, as I may call it, a
country) river pleasant and agreeable.

I shall sing you no songs here of the river in the first person of
a water-nymph, a goddess, and I know not what, according to the
humour of the ancient poets; I shall talk nothing of the marriage
of old Isis, the male river, with the beautiful Thame, the female
river (a whimsey as simple as the subject was empty); but I shall
speak of the river as occasion presents, as it really is made
glorious by the splendour of its shores, gilded with noble palaces,
strong fortifications, large hospitals, and public buildings; with
the greatest bridge, and the greatest city in the world, made
famous by the opulence of its merchants, the increase and
extensiveness of its commerce; by its invincible navies, and by the
innumerable fleets of ships sailing upon it to and from all parts
of the world.

As I meet with the river upwards in my travels through the inland
country I shall speak of it, as it is the channel for conveying an