were dry again before we stopped to lunch. This time we landed, and chose
our spot in a beautiful little meadow, where an alder cast its shade upon
the bank. It was far from all habitations, but had the case been otherwise,
there would have been no danger of our being disturbed by a voice from
behind saying: 'You have no right to land here,' or, 'You are trespassing
in this field.'

Now, this little meadow was, except where the river ran by it, enclosed by
a high hedge, just as one in England might be, and although it was some
four hundred miles south of Paris, and the season had been exceptionally
dry, the grass was brightly green. Just below us was the clear river,
fringed with sedges, sprinkled all over with yellow lilies; beyond this
were other meadows, and then rose towards the cloudless sky the line of
wooded hills. There was a great quietude that nothing broke, save the
splash of a rising fish and the chorus of grasshoppers in the sunny
herbage. Here we stayed a good hour and warmed our coffee tranquilly in the
new saucepan, which afterwards proved very useful for baling purposes. Then
I smoked the pipe of peace, and felt tempted to tarry in this pleasant
place; but Hugh roused me to action by talking of fishing.

A few minutes later we were again on our voyage. Not far below was another
mill-dam of sticks and stones, and when this was passed the river widened
so that it flowed round a little island covered with alders and purple
loosestrife, and girt by a broad belt of white water-lilies. At the next
weir, which was troublesome, we were helped by the miller and his brother,
while a pretty young woman of about twenty, who stood with bare feet, short
skirt, uncovered stays, open chemise, and a linen sun-bonnet of the pattern
known in England, looked on with a fat baby in her arms. These helpful
people refilled our water-bottles, and watched us with interest until we
were out of sight.