The Kennet, on which the town really stands, is a river which has lost its ancient power, for the geologists tell us that along its valley the real mighty river once ran, receiving the considerable Cherwell-Thames tributary at this point. Now, whereas the tributary has grown in importance if not in size, the main stream has shrunk to such an enormous extent that the tributary has become the river, and the river the tributary. Of course, passing through Reading the little river loses its beauty, but the Kennet which comes down from the western end of the Marlborough Downs and flows through the Berkshire meadows is a delightful little stream. CHAPTER FIVE _Holiday Thames—Henley to Maidenhead_ The western half of that portion of the River which has for its bank the county of Buckinghamshire might well be spoken of as “holiday Thames,” for it is on this lovely stretch that a great part of the more important river pleasure-making is done. Certainly we get boating at Richmond, Kingston, Molesey, etc., nearer the metropolis, but it is of the Saturday or Sunday afternoon sort, where Londoners, weary from the week’s labours, find rest and solace in a few brief hours of leisurely punting or rowing. But, between Maidenhead and Henley, at places like Sonning, Pangbourne, and Cookham, folk live on or by the River, either in houseboats or waterside cottages, and the River is not just a diversion, but is for the time being the all-important thing. [Illustration: SONNING.] Nor is this difficult to understand, for the River here is extraordinarily beautiful—a place to linger in and dream away the hours. Henley, which commences the stretch, lies just within the borders of Oxfordshire, and here is celebrated what is, next to the Boatrace at Putney, the most famous of all Thames festivals—for Henley Regatta draws rowing men (and women) from all parts, and crews come from both the Old World and the New to compete in the open races. The River then is almost covered with craft of all sorts moored closely together, with just a narrow water-lane down the centre for the passage of the competing boats; and the bright dresses and gay parasols of the ladies, with the background of green trees, all reflected in the water, make a brilliant and pleasing spectacle. [Illustration: HENLEY.] A few miles below Henley is Great Marlow, a clean and compact little riverside town, whose chief interest lies, perhaps, in the fact that here the poet Shelley lived for a time, writing some of his wonderful poems. Shelley spent much of his time on the River, and learned to love it very much, so that in after years we find him writing from Italy: “My thoughts for ever cling to Windsor Forest and the copses of Marlow.”