CHAPTER II.
THE RIVER INTRODUCES US I stood alone on the bank of the ugliest stream in England.
The moonlight, pouring its unclouded radiance over open space, failed to throw a beauty not their own on those sluggish waters.

Broad and muddy, their stealthy current flowed onward to the sea, without a rock to diversify, without a bubble to break, the sullen surface.

On the side from which I was looking at the river, the neglected trees grew so close together that they were undermining their own lives, and poisoning each other.

On the opposite bank, a rank growth of gigantic bulrushes hid the ground beyond, except where it rose in hillocks, and showed its surface of desert sand spotted here and there by mean patches of health.

A repellent river in itself, a repellent river in its surroundings, a repellent river even in its name.