Below me ran the silver Thames, and above a few silver clouds--the belles of the air--were following its course, as if to watch themselves in the watery winding mirror.

And near the reedy island, at the shadowy point always haunted by three swans, whom I suspect of having been there ever since the days of Odin-faith, was the usual punt, with its elderly gentlemanly gudgeon-fishers.

But far below me, along the dark line of the hedge, was a sight which completed the English character of the scene--a real Gipsy camp.

Caravans, tents, waggons, asses, smouldering fires; while among them the small forms of dark children could be seen frolicking about.

One Gipsy youth was fishing in the stream from the bank, and beyond him a knot of busy basketmakers were visible.
I turned the bridge, adown the bank, and found myself near two young men mending chairs.