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Rh that Ethel had seen since her arrival in London, and she was surprised to observe the change that it wrought. The river below her windows shone with that deep, dead clearness, which somewhat resembles molten lead; the little boats glided rapidly past; and more than one song, set to some popular old tune, came from the watermen as they rowed past. The sails of many a small vessel seemed like snow, and nothing could be more graceful than the way in which they glided through the arches of the distant bridge—disappeared—and then might again be recognised in the bend of the stream above. The noble dome of St. Paul's seemed bathed in the golden atmosphere, and the spires of the inferior churches glittered below. Ethel wondered what had become of the gloom which struck her so forcibly on her first arrival. In the direction to which her own hopes pointed, the aspect was even more cheerful. The banks of the Thames had gardens intermixed with the buildings, and the architecture was of a lighter character, while the beautiful old Abbey rose like a queen