By the age of 15 he had lost both his parents and took employment as a railway clerk, supplementing his income with acting. His plays and books brought him acclaim and in 1892 he became joint editor of 'The Idler' He went on to publish his own weekly, 'To-day'. Besides writing, Jerome's other love was the river, and he combined the two passions in his comical magazine series and subsequent book, 'Three Men in a Boat' He died in 1927. He died in 1927. * * *Maidenhead itself is too snobby to be pleasant.
It is the haunt of the river swell and his overdressed female companion. It is the town of showy hotels, patronized chiefly by dudes and ballet girls. It is the witch's kitchen of which go forth those demons of the river - steam launches. The London Journal duke always has his tidy place at Maidenhead; and the heroine of the three-volume novel always dines there when she goes out on the spree with somebody else's husband.We went through Maidenhead quickly, and then eased up, and took leisurely that grand reach beyond Boulter's and Cookham locks. Cliveden woods still wore their dainty dress of spring, and rose up, from the winter's edge, in one long harmony of blended shades of fairy green.
In it's unbroken loveliness this is, perhaps, the sweetest stretch of all the river, and lingeringly we slowly drew our little boat away from its deep peace.We pulled up in the backwater, just below Cookham, and had tea; and, when we were through the lock, it was evening. A stiffish breeze had sprung up-in our favour, for a wonder; for, as a rule on the river, the wind is always dead against whatever way you go. It is against you in the morning, when you start for a day's trip, and you pull a long distance, thinking how easy it will be to come back with the sail. Then, after tea, the wind veers round, and you have to pull hard in its teeth all the way home.This evening, however, they had evidently made a mistake, and had put the wind round at our back instead of in our face. We kept very quiet about it, and got the sail up quickly before they found it out, and then we spread ourselves about the boat in thoughtful attitudes, and the sail bellied out, and strained, and grumbled at the mast, and the boat flew. I steered.There is no more thrilling sensation I know of than sailing. It comes as near to flying as man has got to yet-except in dreams.
The wings of the rushing wind seem to be bearing you onward, you know not where. You are no longer the slow, plodding, puny thing of clay, creeping tortuously upon the ground; you are a part of nature! Your heart is throbbing against hers. Her glorious arms round you, raising you up against her heart! Your spirit is at one with hers; your limbs grow light! The voices of the air are singing to you. The earth seems far away and little; and the clouds so close above your head, are brothers and you stretch your arms to them.We had the river to ourselves, except that, far in the distance, we could see a fishing-punt, moored in mid stream, on which three fishermen sat; and we skimmed over the water, and passed the wooden banks, and no one spoke I was steering.
