hought it was a very fine maze, so far as he was a judge;
and we agreed that we would try to get George to go into it, on our way
back.

CHAPTER VII.

The river in its Sunday garb.--Dress on the river.--A chance for the
men.--Absence of taste in Harris.--George's blazer.--A day with the
fashion-plate young lady.--Mrs. Thomas's tomb.--The man who loves not
graves and coffins and skulls.--Harris mad.--His views on George and
Banks and lemonade.--He performs tricks.

It was while passing through Moulsey Lock that Harris told me about his
maze experience. It took us some time to pass through, as we were the
only boat, and it is a big lock. I don't think I ever remember to have
seen Moulsey Lock, before, with only one boat in it. It is, I suppose,
Boulter's not even excepted, the busiest lock on the river.

I have stood and watched it, sometimes, when you could not see any water
at all, but only a brilliant tangle of bright blazers, and gay caps, and
saucy hats, and many-coloured parasols, and silken rugs, and cloaks, and
streaming ribbons, and dainty whites; when looking down into the lock
from the quay, you might fancy it was a huge box into which flowers of
every hue and shade had been thrown pell-mell, and lay piled up in a
rainbow heap, that covered every corner.

On a fine Sunday it presents this appearance nearly all day long, while,
up the stream, and down the stream, lie, waiting their turn, outside the
gates, long lines of still more boats; and boats are drawing near and
passing away, so that the sunny river, from the Palace up to Hampton
Church, is dotted and decked with yellow, and blue, and orange, and
white, and red, and pink. All the inhabitants of Hampton and Moulsey
dress themselves up in boating costume, and come and mouch round the lock
with their dogs, and flirt, and smoke, and watch the boats; and,
altogether, what with the caps and jackets of the men, the pretty
coloured dresses of the women, the excited dogs, the moving boats, the
white sails, the pleasant landscape, and the sparkling water, it is one
of the gayest sights I know of near this dull old London town.

The river affords a good opportunity for dress. For once in a way, we
men are able to show _our_ taste in colours, and I think we come out very
natty, if you ask me. I always like a little red in my things--red and
black. You know my hair is a sort of golden brown, rather a pretty shade
I've been told, and a dark red matc