The tide was running in with a swift current, and the broad river was nearly at the full; the strong September sun fell upon the water, which was broken into little waves under a fresh breeze meeting the current from the north-west.

There were lighters and barges majestically creeping up stream, some with brown three-cornered sails set in the bows and stern, some slowly moving with the tide, their bows kept steady by long oars, and some, lashed one to the other, forming a long train, and pulled along by a noisy little tug, all paddle wheel and engine.
There was a sculler vigorously practicing for his next race, and dreaming, perhaps, of sending a challenge to Hanlan; there were some boys in a rowing-boat, laughing and splashing each other; on the north bank there was the garden of the Embankment, with its young trees still green, for the summer lasted into late September this year, and, beyond, the red brick tower of the old church, with its flag post on the top.

These details are never so carefully marked as when one is anxious, and fully absorbed in things of great importance.

Perhaps Arnold had crossed the bridge a hundred times before, but to day, for the first time, he noticed the common things of the river.

One may be an artist, and yet may miss the treasures that lie at the very feet.
This is a remark which occurs to one with each new Academy Show.