XIII

Marlow⁠—Bisham Abbey⁠—The Medmenham Monks⁠—Montmorency thinks he will murder an old Tom cat⁠—But eventually decides that he will let it live⁠—Shameful conduct of a fox terrier at the Civil Service Stores⁠—Our departure from Marlow⁠—An imposing procession⁠—The steam launch, useful receipts for annoying and hindering it⁠—We decline to drink the river⁠—A peaceful dog⁠—Strange disappearance of Harris and a pie.

Marlow is one of the pleasantest river centres I know of. It is a bustling, lively little town; not very picturesque on the whole, it is true, but there are many quaint nooks and corners to be found in it, nevertheless⁠—standing arches in the shattered bridge of Time, over which our fancy travels back to the days when Marlow Manor owned Saxon Algar for its lord, ere conquering William seized it to give to Queen Matilda, ere it passed to the Earls of Warwick or to worldly-wise Lord Paget, the councillor of four successive sovereigns.