It was not too big--its population
was about 10,000--so that the fields were then close at hand. The
Ouse--immortal stream--runs through the middle of the High Street.
To the east towards fenland, the country is flat, and the river is
broad, slow, and deep. Towards the west it is quicker, involved,
fold doubling almost completely on fold, so that it takes sixty
miles to accomplish thirteen as the crow flies. Beginning at
Kempston, and on towards Clapham, Oakley, Milton, Harrold, it is
bordered by the gentlest of hills or rather undulations. At Bedford
the navigation for barges stopped, and there were very few pleasure
boats, one of which was mine. The water above the bridge was
strictly preserved, and the fishing was good. My father could
generally get leave for me, and more delightful days than those
spent at Kempston Mill and Oakley Mill cannot be imagined. The
morning generally began, if I may be excused the bull, on the
evening before, when we walked about four miles to bait a celebrated
roach and bream hole. After I got home, and just as I was going to
bed, I tied a long string round one toe, and threw the other end of
the string out of window, so that it reached the ground, having
bargained with a boy to pull this end, not too violently, at
daybreak, about three-quarters of an hour before the time when the
fish would begin to bite well.
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