THE RIVER THAMES.

In a former portion of this volume the Thames has been alluded to, in contrast with the far mightier rivers of the western hemisphere; and here we have a view of the bubbling fountain-head which gives birth to the river, whose gentle stream, narrow and insignificant as it may be, compared with others, bears on its smooth surface a richer freightage, and a far more numerous fleet, than any other of the wide world's waters.

The source of the Thames lies among the Cotswold hills, which run in a direction northeast and southwest through Gloucestershire. These hills rise abruptly from the rich valley of the Severn, in bold ridges, which, in the southern portion of their range, are clothed, from their base to their summit, with overhanging woods of beech, save here and there, where some opening in the woods leaves exposed the limestone cliff, contrasting, by its light hue, with the dark surrounding mass of foliage and boughs.

Immediately beyond this ridge and the winding valleys,

(each with its clear running stream,) which everywhere deeply indent the range of hills, the country suddenly loses its rich and romantic aspect; we leave the woods and the deep glens, in the recesses of whose twilight sparkles the merry running water, where the trout leaps and the dragon-fly glances, and emerge upon a high, open table-land, bleak and bare of trees, and divided by rough stone-walls. And in this high table-land, thus rising over the Vale of Severn, is born her sister river, whose winding stream is as gentle and as clear, and as equal in its depth and in its flow, as the other, rushing onward from the lofty mountains of North Wales, is swift and turgid, and abounding with shoals.

At Lechlade the Thames first becomes navigable for barges, and from this point to London Bridge the distance, following the windings of the river, is nearly one hundred and fifty miles.

As it flows on towards Oxford, it is augmented by several tributary streams, the principal of which are the Windrush, flowing by Burford and Witney, and the Evenlode, rising near Stow in the Wold. From Oxford, the Thames runs southward by Abingdon and Wallingford till it approaches Reading, where it is joined by the Kennett, and a little further down, by the Loddon. Then,

sweeping northward, and then again eastward and southward, in many a bold, winding reach, it passes Henley, Great Marlow, and Maidenhead, between beautifully wooded cliffs, or among rich pastures, until it reflects the royal and bannered towers of Windsor, and the classic hall of Eton. Between Staines and Kingston it is joined by the Coln, the Mole, and the Wey, and soon afterwards, at Teddington, (probably a corruption of Tide-end-town,) feels the alternate ebb and flow of the ocean tide. From Richmond and Kew, it flows on in a direction nearly due east, until it reflects the many shadows of the great metropolis ;-temple, and tower, and bridge-warehouse, and wharf, and pier— the busy, restless crowd of vessels, ever shifting and gliding-and, over all, the never-ceasing cloud of smoke, which dims the pale blue of our English skies, even on the brightest summer's day. But of London and its wonders we have already spoken, and leaving them behind, the river glides onward, past dock-yard and arsenal, the naval hospital, and the far-famed observatory of Greenwich, with the marshes of Essex on its left bank, and on its right, the wooded knolls and pleasant orchards of Kent. There, Tilbury Fort sends us back to the days of Elizabeth and the Spanish Armada, and the great names of Burleigh and Walsingham, Drake and Raleigh;

here, Gravesend, with its crowds of citizens, rejoicing in their temporary exchange of the smoke of rival steamers for that of the Great City, and the bustle and noise of holiday-making for that of business, recalls our thoughts to the present time. A few miles onward, and the river widens into an estuary, which receives the waters of the Medway; and the united streams, gradually receiving, as their shores recede, the swell of ocean, mingle their waters with his, and take his name.

Thus Time, as he rolls onward, is lost in the depths of eternity, to which we, like barks upon the river, are ever hastening. Happy they who have committed the guidance of their souls to Him who rules the winds and waves, and who, amidst all the storms and trials of life, can smile and say,