THE HYPNOTIC STEWARD

THE HYPNOTIC STEWARDTHE HYPNOTIC STEWARD(Specially engaged for the Cross-Channel Service)["Dr. Paul Farez asserts that he has found in hypnotism an absolutely infallible remedy for sea-sickness and similar discomforts."—Daily Paper.]

(Specially engaged for the Cross-Channel Service)

["Dr. Paul Farez asserts that he has found in hypnotism an absolutely infallible remedy for sea-sickness and similar discomforts."—Daily Paper.]

YACHTING IN LITTLEYACHTING IN LITTLESqueamish accepts Stunsel's invitation for a month's cruise in his 10-ton yawl. He suffers much.Stunsel."Come, come, Squeamish, old fellow, cheer up! You'll be all right in a week or so!!"

Squeamish accepts Stunsel's invitation for a month's cruise in his 10-ton yawl. He suffers much.

Stunsel."Come, come, Squeamish, old fellow, cheer up! You'll be all right in a week or so!!"

STUDIES IN THE HONEYMOONSOLAR STUDIES IN THE HONEYMOONShe(reading a scientific work). "Isn't it wonderful, Charley dear, that the sun is supposed to be millions of miles away!"Charley Dear(suffering from the heat). "Millions of miles, darling? Good thing for all of us that it isn't any nearer."

She(reading a scientific work). "Isn't it wonderful, Charley dear, that the sun is supposed to be millions of miles away!"

Charley Dear(suffering from the heat). "Millions of miles, darling? Good thing for all of us that it isn't any nearer."

seasicknes victim"'ERE'S YOUR WERRY GOOD 'ELTH, SIR!"

IN OUR HOURS OF EASE"O WOMAN, IN OUR HOURS OF EASE!""Poor soul, 'e do look lonely all by 'isself! Ain't you glad you've got us with you, 'Enry?"

"Poor soul, 'e do look lonely all by 'isself! Ain't you glad you've got us with you, 'Enry?"

If you were only here, George,I think—in fact, I know,We'd get a girl to steer, George,And take a boat and row;And, striking mighty bubblesFrom each propulsive blade,Forget that life had troublesAt ninety in the shade.We'd swing along together,And cheerily defyThis toasting, roasting weather,This sunshine of July.Our feather might be dirty,Our style might not be great;But style for men of thirty(And more) is out of date.You'd note with high elation—I think I see you now—The beaded perspirationThat gathered on your brow.Oh, by that brow impearled, George,And by that zephyr wet,I vow in all the world, George,There's nothing like a "sweat".To row as if it mattered,Just think of what it means:All cares and worries shatteredTo silly smithereens.To row on such a day, George,And feel the sluggish brain,Its cobwebs brushed away, George,Clear for its work again!But you at Henley linger,While I am at Bourne-End.You will not stir a fingerTo come and join your friend.This much at least is clear, George:We cannot row a pairSo long as I am here, George,And you remain up there.

If you were only here, George,

I think—in fact, I know,

We'd get a girl to steer, George,

And take a boat and row;

And, striking mighty bubbles

From each propulsive blade,

Forget that life had troubles

At ninety in the shade.

We'd swing along together,And cheerily defyThis toasting, roasting weather,This sunshine of July.Our feather might be dirty,Our style might not be great;But style for men of thirty(And more) is out of date.

We'd swing along together,

And cheerily defy

This toasting, roasting weather,

This sunshine of July.

Our feather might be dirty,

Our style might not be great;

But style for men of thirty

(And more) is out of date.

You'd note with high elation—I think I see you now—The beaded perspirationThat gathered on your brow.Oh, by that brow impearled, George,And by that zephyr wet,I vow in all the world, George,There's nothing like a "sweat".

You'd note with high elation—

I think I see you now—

The beaded perspiration

That gathered on your brow.

Oh, by that brow impearled, George,

And by that zephyr wet,

I vow in all the world, George,

There's nothing like a "sweat".

To row as if it mattered,Just think of what it means:All cares and worries shatteredTo silly smithereens.To row on such a day, George,And feel the sluggish brain,Its cobwebs brushed away, George,Clear for its work again!

To row as if it mattered,

Just think of what it means:

All cares and worries shattered

To silly smithereens.

To row on such a day, George,

And feel the sluggish brain,

Its cobwebs brushed away, George,

Clear for its work again!

But you at Henley linger,While I am at Bourne-End.You will not stir a fingerTo come and join your friend.This much at least is clear, George:We cannot row a pairSo long as I am here, George,And you remain up there.

But you at Henley linger,

While I am at Bourne-End.

You will not stir a finger

To come and join your friend.

This much at least is clear, George:

We cannot row a pair

So long as I am here, George,

And you remain up there.

Unprotected Female(awaking old Gent, who is not very well). "Oh, mister, would you find the captain? I'm sure we're in danger! I've been watching the man at the wheel; he keeps turning it round first one way and then the other, and evidently doesn't know his own mind!!"

HONEYMOON OUTINGA HONEYMOON OUTINGErnest(faintly). "Vera, darling, I do believe I'm the worst sailor on earth!"Vera(ditto). "I wouldn't mindthatso much, ifIwasn't so bad on the water!"

Ernest(faintly). "Vera, darling, I do believe I'm the worst sailor on earth!"

Vera(ditto). "I wouldn't mindthatso much, ifIwasn't so bad on the water!"

VERY CONSIDERATEVERY CONSIDERATESteward."Will either of you, gentlemen, dine on board? There's a capital hot dinner at three o'clock."

Steward."Will either of you, gentlemen, dine on board? There's a capital hot dinner at three o'clock."

(Dedicated to the Thames Conservancy)

9a.m.—Got out my boat, and made immediately for the centre of the stream.

10a.m.—Spent some three-quarters of an hour in attempting to avoid the swell of the City steamboats. Within an ace of being swamped by one of them.

11a.m.—Run into by a sailing-barge. Only saved by holding on to a rope, and pushing my boat aground.

12 noon.—Aground.

1p.m.—After getting into deep water again, was immediately run into by a coal-barge. Exchange of compliments with the crew thereof.

2p.m.—Pursued by swans and other savage birds. Pelted with stones thrown from the shore by ragged urchins out of reach of my vengeance.

3p.m.—Amongst the fishing-punts. Lively communication of opinions by the angry fishermen. Attempted piracy.

4p.m.—Busily engaged in extricating my boat from the weeds.

5p.m.—Disaster caused by a rope coming from the towing-path.

6p.m.—Lock-keeper not to be found. Daring and partially successful attempt to shoot the rapids.

7p.m.—Run down by a steam-launch travelling at express-rate speed.

8p.m.—Just recovering from the effects of drowning.

9p.m.—Going home to bed!

Nothing like taking exercise"DROWSILY! DROWSILY!"Energetic Male(reclining). "Now then, girls, work away! Nothing like taking real exercise!"

Energetic Male(reclining). "Now then, girls, work away! Nothing like taking real exercise!"

EVERY ONE HIS OWN BESSEMERTHE CHANNEL QUESTION SOLVED (1873)OR, EVERY ONE HIS OWN BESSEMER!

OR, EVERY ONE HIS OWN BESSEMER!

(By Isaac Walton Minimus)

There used to be buttercups once on these meads,There used to be reeds by the bank,But now these same meadows have not even weeds,And the water's decidedly rank.The pastures are crowded with mannerless shows,And the river with refuse is blocked;There isn't a corner for quiet repose,While the nose is most constantly shocked!The houseboats and tents may with rich colour glow,And the course be more bright than before,But there isn't the thought for the men who will row,As there was in the brave days of yore!How Willan and Warre and stout "Johnny" MossMust recurrence of past time re-wish,And the sight be to them and to rowing a loss,ButIonly can think of the fishWho are poisoned by garbage and bloated with food,And oppressed with the bottles o'erthrown!My sentiments, though by the many pooh-poohed,By the few will be met with a moan!

There used to be buttercups once on these meads,

There used to be reeds by the bank,

But now these same meadows have not even weeds,

And the water's decidedly rank.

The pastures are crowded with mannerless shows,

And the river with refuse is blocked;

There isn't a corner for quiet repose,

While the nose is most constantly shocked!

The houseboats and tents may with rich colour glow,

And the course be more bright than before,

But there isn't the thought for the men who will row,

As there was in the brave days of yore!

How Willan and Warre and stout "Johnny" Moss

Must recurrence of past time re-wish,

And the sight be to them and to rowing a loss,

ButIonly can think of the fish

Who are poisoned by garbage and bloated with food,

And oppressed with the bottles o'erthrown!

My sentiments, though by the many pooh-poohed,

By the few will be met with a moan!

Man in waterThe Man in the Boat."I'm sorry, sir, but it was your own fault. Why didn't you get out into mid-stream?"The Victim."Why, that's just what I've done!"

The Man in the Boat."I'm sorry, sir, but it was your own fault. Why didn't you get out into mid-stream?"

The Victim."Why, that's just what I've done!"

(Read on the Channel)

I never mind the sea myself. The rougher for me the better. Have a cigar?

One certainly does feel that only Englishmen can be sailors. Somehow or other they take naturally to the sea—now, don't they?

Yes. I always come by Folkestone. I nevercouldsee the use of theCastalia. We are not foreigners, you know. Most of us have our sea-legs. Eh?

Yes. Perhaps a little brandy-and-waterwouldbe a good thing.

veryroughest passage I remember. But I am an excellent sailor. Still, would you mind putting out that cigar?

It's simply disgraceful. TheCastaliaought to be established by Act of Parliament. Shall write to theTimes. I shall go down below—to think about it!

Oh! Here, somebody! Will it be more—than five minutes? Oh! oh! oh!

(Far too dreadful for description.)

EASTER RECREATIONSEASTER RECREATIONSEnthusiastic Skipper(to friend). "Ah, my boy! this is what you wanted. In a short time you'll feel yourself a different man!"

Enthusiastic Skipper(to friend). "Ah, my boy! this is what you wanted. In a short time you'll feel yourself a different man!"

Unnumbered are the trees that flingO'er Pangbourne Reach their shade,Unnumbered there the birds that singMelodious serenade;But as the leaves upon the boughsOr feathers on the birds,So are the trippers who carouseAlong the banks in herds.Punt, centre-board, launch, skiff, canoe,Lunch-laden hither hie,Each bearing her expectant crewTo veal and chicken-pie;And from the woods around Hart's LockReports ring loud and clear,As trippers draw the festive hockOr democratic beer.From one to three, below, above,Is heard the crisp, clear crunchOf salad, as gay Damons loveTo linger over lunch.From three to six a kettle sings'Neath every sheltering treeAs afternoon to Phyllis bringsThe magic hour of tea.Well may the Cockney fly the StrandFor this remoter nest,Where buses cease from rumbling andThe motors are at rest.But would you shun your fellows—ifTo quiet you incline—Oh, rather scull your shilling skiffUpon the Serpentine.

Unnumbered are the trees that fling

O'er Pangbourne Reach their shade,

Unnumbered there the birds that sing

Melodious serenade;

But as the leaves upon the boughs

Or feathers on the birds,

So are the trippers who carouse

Along the banks in herds.

Punt, centre-board, launch, skiff, canoe,Lunch-laden hither hie,Each bearing her expectant crewTo veal and chicken-pie;And from the woods around Hart's LockReports ring loud and clear,As trippers draw the festive hockOr democratic beer.

Punt, centre-board, launch, skiff, canoe,

Lunch-laden hither hie,

Each bearing her expectant crew

To veal and chicken-pie;

And from the woods around Hart's Lock

Reports ring loud and clear,

As trippers draw the festive hock

Or democratic beer.

From one to three, below, above,Is heard the crisp, clear crunchOf salad, as gay Damons loveTo linger over lunch.From three to six a kettle sings'Neath every sheltering treeAs afternoon to Phyllis bringsThe magic hour of tea.

From one to three, below, above,

Is heard the crisp, clear crunch

Of salad, as gay Damons love

To linger over lunch.

From three to six a kettle sings

'Neath every sheltering tree

As afternoon to Phyllis brings

The magic hour of tea.

Well may the Cockney fly the StrandFor this remoter nest,Where buses cease from rumbling andThe motors are at rest.But would you shun your fellows—ifTo quiet you incline—Oh, rather scull your shilling skiffUpon the Serpentine.

Well may the Cockney fly the Strand

For this remoter nest,

Where buses cease from rumbling and

The motors are at rest.

But would you shun your fellows—if

To quiet you incline—

Oh, rather scull your shilling skiff

Upon the Serpentine.

I think you've made a mistakePRO BONO PUBLICOBrown (passenger by the Glasgow steamer, 8.30 a.m.)."I beg pardon, sir, but I think you've made a mistake. That is my tooth-brush!"McGrubbie (ditto)."Ah beag years, mun, ah'm sure. Ah thoght 't belanged to the sheip!!"

Brown (passenger by the Glasgow steamer, 8.30 a.m.)."I beg pardon, sir, but I think you've made a mistake. That is my tooth-brush!"

McGrubbie (ditto)."Ah beag years, mun, ah'm sure. Ah thoght 't belanged to the sheip!!"

(To be in force on or after the next Ultimo instant)

The Darkest Night.—Any man not knowing when the darkest night is will be discharged.

Inquiries can be made any day at the Admiralty from 10 till 4, excepting from 1 till 2, when all hands are piped to luncheon.

The Rule of the Rowedat sea is similar to the rule of the sailed.

No ship must come into collision with another.

If two steamers are on the starboard tack, they must return to the harbour and begin again.

Any steamship likely to meet another steamship must reverse and go somewhere else.

Any admiral out after 12 o'clock will be locked up wherever he is.

Nobody, however high in command, can be permitted to sit on a buoy out at sea for the purpose of frightening vessels.

All complaints to be made to the Admiralty, or to one of the mounted sentries at the Horse Guards.

Cartoon frog

An admiral is on duty all night to receive complaints.

Every mounted marine on joining must bring his own fork, spoon and towel horse.

If two vessels are meeting end on, take one end off. The other loses and forfeits sixpence.

Any infringement or infraction of the above rules and regulations will be reported by the head winds to the deputy toastmaster for the current year at Colwell-Hatchney.

N.B.—On hand a second-hand pair of gloves for boxing the compass. Remember the 26th of December is near, when they may be wanted. The equivalent of a chaplain-general to the forces has been appointed. He is to be called chaplain-admiral to the fleet. The cockpits are being turned into pulpits. If not ready by next Sunday he will deliver his first sermon from the main-top gallant jibboom mizen. The Colney-Hatches will be crowded.

OUT OF ITOUT OF ITThe eldest Miss Blossom thinks that the part of double gooseberry is rather monotonous.

The eldest Miss Blossom thinks that the part of double gooseberry is rather monotonous.

you haven't taken anythingHOW LITTLE OUR DEAR ONES UNDERSTAND USMadge."My dear George, there you've been sitting with your camera since breakfast, and you haven't taken anything."George (intent on his own feelings)."Don't ask me to, darling, I couldn't touch it!"

Madge."My dear George, there you've been sitting with your camera since breakfast, and you haven't taken anything."

George (intent on his own feelings)."Don't ask me to, darling, I couldn't touch it!"

On Board the "Athena," Henley-on-Thames

I like, it is true, in a basswood canoeTo lounge, with a weed incandescent:To paddle about, there is not a doubt,I find it uncommonly pleasant!I love the fresh air, the lunch here and there,To see pretty toilettes and faces;But one thing I hate—allow me to state—The fuss they make over the Races!I don't care a rap for the Races!—Mid all the Regatta embraces—I'm that sort of chap, I don't care a rap,A rap or a snap for the Races!I don't care, you know, a bit how they row,Nor mind about smartness of feather;If steering is bad, I'm not at all sad,Nor care if they all swing together!Oh why do they shout and make such a rout,When one boat another one chases?'Tis really too hot to bawl, is it not?Or bore oneself over the Races!I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.Then the Umpire's boat a nuisance we vote,It interrupts calm contemplation;Its discordant tone, and horrid steam moan,Is death to serene meditation!The roar of the crowd should not be allowed;The gun with its fierce fulmination,Abolish it, pray—'tis fatal, they say,To pleasant and quiet flirtation!I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.If athletes must pant—I don't say they shan't—But give them some decent employment;And let it be clear, they don't interfereWith other folks' quiet enjoyment!When luncheon you're o'er, tis really a bore—And I think it a very hard case is—To have to look up, frompátéor cup,And gaze on those tiresome Races!I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.The Races, to me, seem to strike a wrong key,Mid dreamy delightful diversion;There isn't much fun seeing men in the sun,Who suffer from over-exertion!In sweet idle days, when all love to laze,Such violent work a disgrace is!Let's hope we shall see, with me they'll agree,And next year abolish the Races!I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.

I like, it is true, in a basswood canoe

To lounge, with a weed incandescent:

To paddle about, there is not a doubt,

I find it uncommonly pleasant!

I love the fresh air, the lunch here and there,

To see pretty toilettes and faces;

But one thing I hate—allow me to state—

The fuss they make over the Races!

I don't care a rap for the Races!—

Mid all the Regatta embraces—

I'm that sort of chap, I don't care a rap,

A rap or a snap for the Races!

I don't care, you know, a bit how they row,Nor mind about smartness of feather;If steering is bad, I'm not at all sad,Nor care if they all swing together!Oh why do they shout and make such a rout,When one boat another one chases?'Tis really too hot to bawl, is it not?Or bore oneself over the Races!I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.

I don't care, you know, a bit how they row,

Nor mind about smartness of feather;

If steering is bad, I'm not at all sad,

Nor care if they all swing together!

Oh why do they shout and make such a rout,

When one boat another one chases?

'Tis really too hot to bawl, is it not?

Or bore oneself over the Races!

I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.

Then the Umpire's boat a nuisance we vote,It interrupts calm contemplation;Its discordant tone, and horrid steam moan,Is death to serene meditation!The roar of the crowd should not be allowed;The gun with its fierce fulmination,Abolish it, pray—'tis fatal, they say,To pleasant and quiet flirtation!I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.

Then the Umpire's boat a nuisance we vote,

It interrupts calm contemplation;

Its discordant tone, and horrid steam moan,

Is death to serene meditation!

The roar of the crowd should not be allowed;

The gun with its fierce fulmination,

Abolish it, pray—'tis fatal, they say,

To pleasant and quiet flirtation!

I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.

If athletes must pant—I don't say they shan't—But give them some decent employment;And let it be clear, they don't interfereWith other folks' quiet enjoyment!When luncheon you're o'er, tis really a bore—And I think it a very hard case is—To have to look up, frompátéor cup,And gaze on those tiresome Races!I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.

If athletes must pant—I don't say they shan't—

But give them some decent employment;

And let it be clear, they don't interfere

With other folks' quiet enjoyment!

When luncheon you're o'er, tis really a bore—

And I think it a very hard case is—

To have to look up, frompátéor cup,

And gaze on those tiresome Races!

I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.

The Races, to me, seem to strike a wrong key,Mid dreamy delightful diversion;There isn't much fun seeing men in the sun,Who suffer from over-exertion!In sweet idle days, when all love to laze,Such violent work a disgrace is!Let's hope we shall see, with me they'll agree,And next year abolish the Races!I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.

The Races, to me, seem to strike a wrong key,

Mid dreamy delightful diversion;

There isn't much fun seeing men in the sun,

Who suffer from over-exertion!

In sweet idle days, when all love to laze,

Such violent work a disgrace is!

Let's hope we shall see, with me they'll agree,

And next year abolish the Races!

I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.

Miss Featherweight in boatKNOW THYSELF!Miss Featherweight."I tell you what, Alfred, if you took me for a row in a thing like that I'd scream all the time. Why, he isn't more than half out of the water!"

Miss Featherweight."I tell you what, Alfred, if you took me for a row in a thing like that I'd scream all the time. Why, he isn't more than half out of the water!"

By Jingle Junior on the Jaunt

All right — here we are — quite the waterman — jolly — young — white flannels — straw hat — canvas shoes — umbrella — mackintosh — provide against a rainy day! Finest reach for rowing in England — best regatta in the Eastern Hemisphere — finest pic-nic in the world! Gorgeous barges — palatial houseboats — superb steam-launches — skiffs — randans — punts — wherries — sailing-boats — dinghies — canoes! Red Lion crammed from cellar to garret — not a bed to be had in the town — comfortable trees all booked a fortnight in advance — well-aired meadows at a premium! Lion Gardens crammed with gay toilettes — Grand Stand like a flower-show— band inspiriting — church-bells distracting — sober grey old bridge crammed with carriages — towing-path blocked up with spectators — meadows alive with pic-nic parties! Flags flying everywhere — music — singers — niggers — conjurers — fortune-tellers! Brilliant liveries of rowing clubs — red — blue — yellow — green — purple — black — white — all jumbled up together — rainbow gone mad — kaleidoscope withdelirium tremens. Henley hospitality proverbial — invitation to sixteen luncheons — accept 'em all — go to none! Find myself at luncheon where I've not been asked — good plan — others in reserve! Wet or fine — rain or shine — must be at Henley! If fine, row about all day — pretty girls — bright dresses — gay sunshades. If wet, drop in at hospitable houseboat just for a call — delightful damsels — mackintoshes — umbrellas! Houseboat like Ark — all in couples — Joan of Ark in corner with Darby — Who is she? — Don't No-ah — pun effect of cup. Luncheons going on all day — cups various continually circulating — fine view — lots of fun — delightful, very! People roaring — rowists howling along bank — lot of young men with red oars in boat over-exerting themselves — lotmore in boat with blue oars, also over-exerting themselves — bravo! — pick her up! — let her have it! — well pulled — everybody gone raving mad! Bang! young men leave off over-exerting themselves — somebody says somebody has won something. Seems to have been a race about something — why can't they row quietly? Pass the claret-cup, please — Why do they want to interrupt our luncheon? — Eh?

WHAT'S IN A NAME"WHAT'S IN A NAME?"(A sketch at a regatta. A warning to "the cloth" when up the river)

(A sketch at a regatta. A warning to "the cloth" when up the river)

CUPID AT SEACUPID AT SEAAngelina (to Edwin, whose only chance is perfect tranquillity)."Edwin, dear! If you love me, go down into the cabin, and fetch me my scent bottle and another shawl to put over my feet!"[Edwin's sensations are more easily imagined than described.

Angelina (to Edwin, whose only chance is perfect tranquillity)."Edwin, dear! If you love me, go down into the cabin, and fetch me my scent bottle and another shawl to put over my feet!"

[Edwin's sensations are more easily imagined than described.

And have you not read of eight jolly young watermaids,Lately at Cookham accustomed to plyAnd feather their oars with a deal of dexterity,Pleasing the critical masculine eye?They swing so truly and pull so steadily,Multitudes flock to the river-side readily;—It's not the eighth wonder that all the world's there,But this watermaid eight, ne'er in want of a stare.What sights of white costumes! What ties and what hatbands,"Leander cerise!" We don't wish to offend,But are these first thoughts with the dashing young womenWho don't dash too much in a spurt off Bourne End?Mere nonsense, of course! There's no "giggling and leering"—Complete ruination to rowing and steering;—"All eyes in the boat" is their coach's first care,And "a spin of twelve miles" is as naught to the fair.

And have you not read of eight jolly young watermaids,

Lately at Cookham accustomed to ply

And feather their oars with a deal of dexterity,

Pleasing the critical masculine eye?

They swing so truly and pull so steadily,

Multitudes flock to the river-side readily;—

It's not the eighth wonder that all the world's there,

But this watermaid eight, ne'er in want of a stare.

What sights of white costumes! What ties and what hatbands,"Leander cerise!" We don't wish to offend,But are these first thoughts with the dashing young womenWho don't dash too much in a spurt off Bourne End?Mere nonsense, of course! There's no "giggling and leering"—Complete ruination to rowing and steering;—"All eyes in the boat" is their coach's first care,And "a spin of twelve miles" is as naught to the fair.

What sights of white costumes! What ties and what hatbands,

"Leander cerise!" We don't wish to offend,

But are these first thoughts with the dashing young women

Who don't dash too much in a spurt off Bourne End?

Mere nonsense, of course! There's no "giggling and leering"—

Complete ruination to rowing and steering;—

"All eyes in the boat" is their coach's first care,

And "a spin of twelve miles" is as naught to the fair.

GOOD RESOLUTIONSGOOD RESOLUTIONSBlenkinsop (on a friend's Yacht) soliloquises."I know one thing, if ever I'm rich enough to keep a yacht, I shall spend the money in horses."

Blenkinsop (on a friend's Yacht) soliloquises."I know one thing, if ever I'm rich enough to keep a yacht, I shall spend the money in horses."

Scene—Houseboat in a good position.Time—Evening during "the Regatta week."Present(on deck in cozy chairs)—He and She.

She.Very pretty, the lights, are they not?

He.Perfectly charming. So nice after the heat.

She.Yes, and really, everything has been delightful.

He.Couldn't possibly be better. Wonderful how well it can be done.

She.Yes. But, of course, it wants management. You know a lot comes down from town.

He.Will the stores send so far?

She.Yes, and if they won't others will. And then the local tradespeople are very obliging.

He.But don't the servants rather kick at it?

She.No, because they are comfortable enough. Put them up in the neighbourhood.

He.Ah, to be sure. And your brother looks after the cellar so well.

She.Yes, he is quite a genius in that line.

He.And it's awfully nice chatting all day.

She.Yes, when one doesn't go to sleep.

He.And, of course, we can fall back upon the circulating libraries and the newspapers.

She.And so much better than town. It must be absolutely ghastly in Piccadilly.

He.Yes, so I hear. And then there's the racing!

She.Ah, to be sure. To tell the truth, I didn't notice that very much. Was there any winning?

He.Oh, yes, a lot. But I really quite forget what——

She.Oh, never mind. We can read all about it in to-morrow's papers, and that will be better than bothering about it now.

[Scene closes in to soft music on the banjo.

river was covered with elegant craftAT HENLEY—"IPSE DIXIT"["For a mile and a half the river was covered with elegant craft, in which youth was always at the prow and pleasure always at the helm."—Daily Paper.]

["For a mile and a half the river was covered with elegant craft, in which youth was always at the prow and pleasure always at the helm."—Daily Paper.]

(To a Shipowner. By a Shell-back)

It's mighty fine, yer talkin', but you never done no tripsIn the bloomin' leaky foc'sle of yer leaky, rotten ships;And though you gulls the public with a sham Menoo forus,It isn't printed lies as makes provisions worth a cuss;And even silly emigrants will tell you straight and trueThat the test of grub is grubbin', not the advertised Menoo.I'm talkin' now, not beggin' for a chance to starve and workIn an undermanned old tanker with a skipper like a Turk;With a cook as larnt 'is cookin' when 'e 'ad to cook or beg,Or go into an 'orspital to nurse a cranky leg;And what I says I means it, and my words is plain and true,Which is more than any sailorman will say for yer Menoo.I'll allow that in the look of it, the print of it I mean,That all you say is sarved to us; but is it good or clean?And wot's wet 'ash, or porridge, or any other stuff,When at the very best of it there's 'ardly 'arf enough?Not even with the cockroaches that's given with the stew,Though I notice they nor maggots wasn't down in yer Menoo.There's the tea and corfee talked of, but folks ashore ain't toldThat the swine as bought it for you winked 'is eye at them as sold.For sailormen's best Mocha was never further EastThan a bloomin' Essex bean-field; and the tea ain't tea—at leastIt's on'y "finest sweepin's" from the docks, and wot a brewIt makes when sarved in buckets to drink to yer Menoo!The pork and beef on paper, or a tin dish, makes a show,But you'd want yer front teeth sharpened if you tackled it, my bo'!For the beef is still the ancient 'orse wot worked on Portland Pier,And the pork is rotten reasty, that was inwoiced twice too dearIf they charged you 'arf a thick 'un for the whack you gives the crew,With the pickles and the butter set out fine in yer Menoo.I'd like to take you jossers, as thinks as sailormenIs a grumblin' lot of skulkers, just one trip and 'ome agen;For when yer 'ands was achin' with sea cuts to the bone,And the Baltic talked north-easters, you'd be alterin' of yer tone,And might'nt think wot's wrote in print is necessary true,And perhaps when you was safe agen you'd alter our Menoo.

It's mighty fine, yer talkin', but you never done no trips

In the bloomin' leaky foc'sle of yer leaky, rotten ships;

And though you gulls the public with a sham Menoo forus,

It isn't printed lies as makes provisions worth a cuss;

And even silly emigrants will tell you straight and true

That the test of grub is grubbin', not the advertised Menoo.

I'm talkin' now, not beggin' for a chance to starve and workIn an undermanned old tanker with a skipper like a Turk;With a cook as larnt 'is cookin' when 'e 'ad to cook or beg,Or go into an 'orspital to nurse a cranky leg;And what I says I means it, and my words is plain and true,Which is more than any sailorman will say for yer Menoo.

I'm talkin' now, not beggin' for a chance to starve and work

In an undermanned old tanker with a skipper like a Turk;

With a cook as larnt 'is cookin' when 'e 'ad to cook or beg,

Or go into an 'orspital to nurse a cranky leg;

And what I says I means it, and my words is plain and true,

Which is more than any sailorman will say for yer Menoo.

I'll allow that in the look of it, the print of it I mean,That all you say is sarved to us; but is it good or clean?And wot's wet 'ash, or porridge, or any other stuff,When at the very best of it there's 'ardly 'arf enough?Not even with the cockroaches that's given with the stew,Though I notice they nor maggots wasn't down in yer Menoo.

I'll allow that in the look of it, the print of it I mean,

That all you say is sarved to us; but is it good or clean?

And wot's wet 'ash, or porridge, or any other stuff,

When at the very best of it there's 'ardly 'arf enough?

Not even with the cockroaches that's given with the stew,

Though I notice they nor maggots wasn't down in yer Menoo.

There's the tea and corfee talked of, but folks ashore ain't toldThat the swine as bought it for you winked 'is eye at them as sold.For sailormen's best Mocha was never further EastThan a bloomin' Essex bean-field; and the tea ain't tea—at leastIt's on'y "finest sweepin's" from the docks, and wot a brewIt makes when sarved in buckets to drink to yer Menoo!

There's the tea and corfee talked of, but folks ashore ain't told

That the swine as bought it for you winked 'is eye at them as sold.

For sailormen's best Mocha was never further East

Than a bloomin' Essex bean-field; and the tea ain't tea—at least

It's on'y "finest sweepin's" from the docks, and wot a brew

It makes when sarved in buckets to drink to yer Menoo!

The pork and beef on paper, or a tin dish, makes a show,But you'd want yer front teeth sharpened if you tackled it, my bo'!For the beef is still the ancient 'orse wot worked on Portland Pier,And the pork is rotten reasty, that was inwoiced twice too dearIf they charged you 'arf a thick 'un for the whack you gives the crew,With the pickles and the butter set out fine in yer Menoo.

The pork and beef on paper, or a tin dish, makes a show,

But you'd want yer front teeth sharpened if you tackled it, my bo'!

For the beef is still the ancient 'orse wot worked on Portland Pier,

And the pork is rotten reasty, that was inwoiced twice too dear

If they charged you 'arf a thick 'un for the whack you gives the crew,

With the pickles and the butter set out fine in yer Menoo.

I'd like to take you jossers, as thinks as sailormenIs a grumblin' lot of skulkers, just one trip and 'ome agen;For when yer 'ands was achin' with sea cuts to the bone,And the Baltic talked north-easters, you'd be alterin' of yer tone,And might'nt think wot's wrote in print is necessary true,And perhaps when you was safe agen you'd alter our Menoo.

I'd like to take you jossers, as thinks as sailormen

Is a grumblin' lot of skulkers, just one trip and 'ome agen;

For when yer 'ands was achin' with sea cuts to the bone,

And the Baltic talked north-easters, you'd be alterin' of yer tone,

And might'nt think wot's wrote in print is necessary true,

And perhaps when you was safe agen you'd alter our Menoo.

TRIAL OF FAITHA TRIAL OF FAITHBertie (at intervals)."I used to—— What the—— do a lot of—— Conf—— rowing, one time!"

Bertie (at intervals)."I used to—— What the—— do a lot of—— Conf—— rowing, one time!"

Boatman (spelling)CRITICALBoatman (spelling)."P-s-y-c-h-e. Well, that's the rummest way I ever see o' spellin'fish!"

Boatman (spelling)."P-s-y-c-h-e. Well, that's the rummest way I ever see o' spellin'fish!"

(By Mr. Punch's Own Oarsman)

Sir,—This letter is private and is not intended for publication. I particularly beg that you will note this, as on a former occasion some remarks of mine, which were intended only for your private eye, were printed. I of course accepted your assurance that no offence was meant, and that theoversight was due to a person whose services had since the occurrence been dispensed with; but I look to you to take care that it shall not happen again. Otherwise the mutual confidence that should always exist between an editor and his staff cannot possibly be maintained, and I shall have to transfer my invaluable services to some other paper. The notes and prognostications which I have laboriously compiled with regard to the final results of the regatta will arrive by the next post, and will, I flatter myself, be found to be extraordinarily accurate, besides being written in that vivid and picturesque style which has made my contributions famous throughout the civilised world.

There are one or two little matters about which I honestly desire to have your opinion. You know perfectly well that I was by no means anxious for the position of aquatic reporter. In vain I pointed out to you that my experience of the river was entirely limited to an occasional trip by steamboat from Charing Cross to Gravesend. You said that was an amply sufficient qualification, and that no aquatic reporter who respected himself and hisreaders, had ever so far degraded himself as to row in a boat and to place his body in any of the absurd positions which modern oarsmanship demands. Finding you were inexorable, and knowing your ridiculously hasty temper, I consented finally to undertake the arduous duties. These circumstances, however, make it essential that you should give me advice when I require it. For obvious reasons I don't much like to ask any of the rowing men here any questions. They are mostly in what they call hard training, which means, I fancy, a condition of high irritability. Their strokes may be long, but their tempers are, I regret to say, painfully short. Besides, to be candid, I don't wish to show the least trace of ignorance. My position demands that I should be omniscient, and omniscient, to all outward appearance, I shall remain.

In the first place, what is a "lightship"? As I travelled down to Henley I read in one of the newspapers that "practice for the Royal Regatta was now in full swing, and that the river was dotted with lightships of every description." I remember some years ago passing a very pleasanthalf hour on board of a lightship moored in the neighbourhood of Broadstairs. The rum was excellent. I looked forward with a lively pleasure to repeating the experience at Henley. As soon as I arrived, therefore, I put on my yachting cap (white, with a gold anchor embroidered in front), hired a boat and a small boy, and directed him to row me immediately to one of the lightships. I spent at least two hours on the river in company with that boy—a very impudent little fellow,—but owing no doubt to his stupidity, I failed to find a single vessel which could be fairly described as a lightship. Finally the boy said they had all been sunk in yesterday's great storm, and with that inadequate explanation I was forced to content myself. But there is a mystery about this. Please explain it.

Secondly, I see placards and advertisements all over the place announcing that "the Stewards Stand." Now this fairly beats me. Why should the stewards stand? They are presumably men of a certain age, some of them must be of a certain corpulence, and it seems to me a refinement of cruelty that these faithful officials, of whom, Ibelieve, the respected Mayor of Henley is one, should be compelled to refrain from seats during the whole of the Regatta. It may be necessary for them to set an example of true British endurance to the crowds who attend the Regatta, but in that case surely they ought to be paid for the performance of their duties.

Thirdly, I have heard a good deal of talk about the Visitors' Cup. Being anxious to test its merits, I went to one of the principal hotels here, and ordered the waiter to bring me a quart of Visitors' Cup, and to be careful to ice it well. He seemed puzzled, but went away to execute my orders. After an absence of ten minutes he returned, and informed me, with the manager's compliments, that they could not provide me with what I wanted, but that their champagne-cup was excellent. I gave the fellow a look, and departed. Perhaps this is only another example of the asinine and anserous dunderheadedness of these crass provincials. Kindly reply,by wire, about all the three points I have mentioned.

I have been here for a week, but have, as yet, not been fortunate enough to see any crews.Indeed, I doubt if there are any here. A good many maniacs disport themselves every day in rickety things which look something like gigantic needles, and other people have been riding along the bank, and, very naturally, abusing them loudly for their foolhardy recklessness. But no amount of abuse causes them to desist. I have puzzled my brains to know what it all means, but I confess I can't make it out. I fancy I know a boat when I see one, and of course these ridiculous affairs can't be boats.

Be good enough to send me, by return, at least £100. It's a very difficult and expensive thing to support the dignity of your paper in this town. Whiskey is very dear, and a great deal goes a very short way.

Yours sincerely,

The Man at the Oar.Henley-on-Thames, July 4.

a nest of swansAQUATICS—A COMFORTABLE RAN-DANJolly Young Waterman."Holloa! Hi! Police! Back water, Jack! We've got into a nest of swans, and they're a pitchin' into me!"

Jolly Young Waterman."Holloa! Hi! Police! Back water, Jack! We've got into a nest of swans, and they're a pitchin' into me!"

THE SERPENTINETHE SERPENTINE(Gent thinks he is rowing to the admiration of everybody)Small Boy."'Old 'ard, guv'n'r! And take me and my traps acrosst—will yer?"

(Gent thinks he is rowing to the admiration of everybody)

Small Boy."'Old 'ard, guv'n'r! And take me and my traps acrosst—will yer?"

Try a cigarFiend in human shape."Don't feel well! Try a cigar!"

Fiend in human shape."Don't feel well! Try a cigar!"

both sculls have goneBinks, who is the kindest creature possible, has undertaken to fasten up the boat and bring along the siphons. Unfortunately both sculls have gone, and his friends are out of hearing.

Binks, who is the kindest creature possible, has undertaken to fasten up the boat and bring along the siphons. Unfortunately both sculls have gone, and his friends are out of hearing.

Why didn't we go by railMOAN, HEARD ON A RAMSGATE BOAT"Why didn't we go by rail?"

"Why didn't we go by rail?"

(By Our Own Æsthetic Bard)

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