CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL
OF
POPULAR
LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART.

SUNNY DAYS ON THE THAMES.

When city folk, weary of heat and dust, arebeginning to think of distant flights—to Switzerlandand its eternal snows; to the romantic legendaryRhine; perhaps even farther afield, acrossthe great Atlantic to wondrous Niagara; or fartheryet, to that new old world on the shores of thePacific—I too tire of the closeness and turmoil ofthe town, and turn my steps towards the pleasantcountry. I am not going very far, scarcely morethan a few miles, but I doubt if any of the travellerson their long journeys will see a lovelier spot.

It is late on an afternoon in early June as Idrive along the shady green lanes from the quietcountry station, and stop before the gate of a dearold red brick house, which I know and love well.The door stands hospitably open, and in the porchI see kind and friendly faces framed in a wealth ofglorious roses and many-tinted creepers, whichcling lovingly to the time-stained walls. Goodold 'Belle' the black retriever comes to meet me,wagging her tail affectionately; and looking up inmy face, seems to ask me what I have done withthe curly black puppy I ruthlessly stole from herthe last time I was here.

How pleasant the sunny garden looks! Howsweet the flowers smell! How delightful doeseverything appear after the bricks and mortar Ihave left behind me; and yet here are bricks andmortar too, but ah! not town bricks and townmortar. Time touches the old house with tenderhands, and mellows it year by year into richer tints.

A queer old house it is, with odd bits added on toit here and there, in defiance of all the laws of architecture,and startling you with unexpected cornersand angles; with quaint tall chimneys springingfrom the moss-grown roof, out of which the smokecurls lazily in blue-gray clouds, and round whichtwine the Virginia creeper and purple clematis,trying curiously to peep in at the top of them;with ivy-framed windows flashing in the sun, andoverhanging eaves, beneath which the sparrowschirp merrily. The rooms are low, but so comfortable;whether great Christmas logs crackle onthe hearth, throwing sparkles of light here andthere, and leaving the distant corners all dim andshadowy; or whether, as now, t

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