CHAPTER VI.
Kingston .-- Instructive remarks on early English history .-- Instructive observations on carved oak and life in general .-- Sad case of Stivvings, junior .-- Musings on antiquity .-- I forget that I am steering .-- Interesting result .-- Hampton Court Maze .-- Harris as a guide.
It was a glorious morning, late spring or early summer, as you care to take it, when the dainty sheen of grass and leaf is blushing to a deeper green; and the year seems like a fair young maid, trembling with strange, wakening pulses on the brink of womanhood.
The quaint back streets of Kingston, where they came down to the water's edge, looked quite picturesque in the flashing sunlight, the glinting river with its drifting barges, the wooded towpath, the trim-kept villas on the other side, Harris, in a red and orange blazer, grunting away at the sculls, the distant glimpses of the grey old palace of the Tudors, all made a sunny picture, so bright but calm, so full of life, and yet so peaceful, that, early in the day though it was, I felt myself being dreamily lulled off into a musing fit.
I mused on Kingston, or "Kyningestun," as it was once called in the days when Saxon "kinges" were crowned there.

Great Caesar crossed the river there, and the Roman legions camped upon its sloping uplands.

Caesar, like, in later years, Elizabeth, seems to have stopped everywhere: only he was more respectable than good Queen Bess; he didn't put up at the public-houses.
She was nuts on public-houses, was England's Virgin Queen.

There's scarcely a pub.

of any attractions within ten miles of London that she does not seem to have looked in at, or stopped at, or slept at, some time or other.