TOO SOLID

TOO SOLIDTOO SOLIDSkipper."Did ye got the proveesions Angus?"Angus."Ay, ay! A half loaf, an' fouer bottles o' whiskey."Skipper."An' what in the woarld will ye be doin' wi' aal that bread?"

Skipper."Did ye got the proveesions Angus?"

Angus."Ay, ay! A half loaf, an' fouer bottles o' whiskey."

Skipper."An' what in the woarld will ye be doin' wi' aal that bread?"

RESIGNATIONRESIGNATIONSympathetic Old Gentleman."I'm sorry to see your husband suffer so, ma'am. He seems very——"Lady Passenger(faintly). "Oh dear! He isn't my husband. 'Sure I don't know who the ge'tleman is!"

Sympathetic Old Gentleman."I'm sorry to see your husband suffer so, ma'am. He seems very——"

Lady Passenger(faintly). "Oh dear! He isn't my husband. 'Sure I don't know who the ge'tleman is!"

FLIGHT OF FANCYA FLIGHT OF FANCYVisitor."Good morning: tide's very high this morning, eh?"Ancient Mariner."Ar, if the sea was allbeer, there wouldn' be no bloomin' 'igh tides!"

Visitor."Good morning: tide's very high this morning, eh?"

Ancient Mariner."Ar, if the sea was allbeer, there wouldn' be no bloomin' 'igh tides!"

HOSPITALITY AT HENLEYA QUESTION OF HOSPITALITY AT HENLEY"Unbidden guests are often welcomest when they are gone."—Shakespeare.

"Unbidden guests are often welcomest when they are gone."—Shakespeare.

DELICIOUS SAILA DELICIOUS SAIL—OFF DOVEROld Lady."Goodness gracious, Mr. Boatman! What's that?"Stolid Boatman."That, mum! Nuthun, mum. Only the Artillery a prac-ti-sin', and that's one o' the cannon balls what's just struck the water!!"

Old Lady."Goodness gracious, Mr. Boatman! What's that?"

Stolid Boatman."That, mum! Nuthun, mum. Only the Artillery a prac-ti-sin', and that's one o' the cannon balls what's just struck the water!!"

POOR HUMANITYPOOR HUMANITY!Bride."I think—George, dear—I should—be better—if we walked about——"Husband(one wouldn't have believed it of him). "You can do as you like, love. I'm very well (!) as I am!!"

Bride."I think—George, dear—I should—be better—if we walked about——"

Husband(one wouldn't have believed it of him). "You can do as you like, love. I'm very well (!) as I am!!"

Two men talkingIntelligent Foreigner."I am afraid zey are not much use, zeze grand works of yours at Dovaire. Vot can zey do against our submarines?—our leetle Gustave Zêde? Ah, ze submarine e' is mos terrible, an' ze crews also—ze matelots—zey are 'eroes! Vy, every time zey go on board of him zey say goodbye to zer vives an' families!"

Intelligent Foreigner."I am afraid zey are not much use, zeze grand works of yours at Dovaire. Vot can zey do against our submarines?—our leetle Gustave Zêde? Ah, ze submarine e' is mos terrible, an' ze crews also—ze matelots—zey are 'eroes! Vy, every time zey go on board of him zey say goodbye to zer vives an' families!"

A TRYING MOMENTA TRYING MOMENTDoris."Oh, Jack, here come those Sellerby girls! Do show them how beautifully you can punt."

Doris."Oh, Jack, here come those Sellerby girls! Do show them how beautifully you can punt."

HEIGHT OF IMPROPRIETYTHE HEIGHT OF IMPROPRIETYMiss Grundison, Junior."There goes Lucy Holroyd, all alone in a boat with young Snipson, as usual! So imprudent of them!"Her Elder Sister."Yes; how shocking if they were upset and drowned—without a chaperon, you know!"

Miss Grundison, Junior."There goes Lucy Holroyd, all alone in a boat with young Snipson, as usual! So imprudent of them!"

Her Elder Sister."Yes; how shocking if they were upset and drowned—without a chaperon, you know!"

LOCAL OPTIONLOCAL OPTIONCaptain of Clyde steamer(to stoker, as they sighted their port). "Slack awee, Donal', slack awee"—(he was interested in the liquors sold)—"they're drencken haurd yenoo!!"

Captain of Clyde steamer(to stoker, as they sighted their port). "Slack awee, Donal', slack awee"—(he was interested in the liquors sold)—"they're drencken haurd yenoo!!"

Illustrated letter D

Dear Charlie,—It's 'ot, and no error! Summer on us, at last, with a bust;Ninety odd in the shade as I write, I've a 'ed, and a thunderin' thust.Can't go on the trot at this tempryture, though I'm on 'oliday still;So I'll pull out myeskrytor, Charlie, and give you a touch of my quill.If you find as my fist runs to size, set it down to that quill, dear old pal;Correspondents is on to me lately, complains as I write like a gal.Sixteen words to the page, and slopscrawly, all dashes and blobs. Well, it's true;But a quill and big sprawl is the fashion, so wot is a feller to do?Didn't spot you at 'Enley, old oyster—I did 'ope you'd shove in your oar.We 'ad a rare barney, I tell you, although a bit spiled by the pour.'Ad a invite to 'Opkins's 'ouse-boat, prime pitch, and swell party, yer know,Pooty girls, first-class lotion, and music. I tell yer we did let things go.Who sez 'Enley ain't up to old form, that Society gives it the slip?Wish you could 'ave seen us—and heard us—old boy, when aboard of our ship.Peonies and poppies ain't in it for colour with our little lot,And with larfter and banjos permiskus we managed to mix it up 'ot.Man in blazerMy blazer was claret and mustard, my "stror" was a rainbow gone wrong!I ain't one who's ashamed of his colours, but likes 'em mixed midd-lingish strong.'Emmy 'Opkins, the fluffy-'aired daughter, a dab at a punt or canoe,Said I looked like a garden of dahlias, and showed up her neat navy blue.Fair mashed on yours truly, Miss Emmy; but that's only jest by the way,'Arry ain't one to brag ofbong jour tunes; but wot I wos wanting to sayIs about this here "spiling the River" which snarlers set down to our sort.Bosh! Charlie, extreme Tommy rot! It's these sniffers as want to spile sport.Want things all to theirselves, these old jossers, and all on the strictest Q. T.Their idea of the Thames being "spiled" by the smallest suggestion of spree,Wy, it's right down rediklus, old pal, gives a feller the dithreums it do.I mean going for them a rare bat, and I'm game to wire in till all's blue.Who are they, these stuckuppy snipsters, as jaw about quiet and peace,Who would silence the gay "constant-screamer" and line the Thames banks with perlice;Who sneer about "'Arry at 'Enley," and sniff about "cads on the course,"As though it meant "Satan in Eden"? I'll 'owl at sich oafs till I'm 'oarse!Scrap o' sandwich-greased paper 'll shock 'em, a ginger-beer bottle or "Bass,"Wot 'appens to drop 'mong the lilies, or gets chucked aside on the grass,Makes 'em gasp like a frog in a frying-pan. Br-r-r-r! Wot old mivvies they are!Got nerves like a cobweb, I reckon, a smart banjo-twang makes 'em jar.I'm toffy, you know, and no flies, Charlie; swim with the swells, and all that,ButI'm blowed if this bunkum don't make me inclined to turn Radical rat."Riparian rights," too! Oh scissors! They'd block the backwaters and broads,Because me and my pals likes a lark! Serve 'em right if old Burns busts their 'oards!Rum blokes, these here Sosherlist spouters! There's Dannel the Dosser, old chap,As you've 'eard me elude to afore. Fair stone-broker, not wuth 'arf a rap—Knows it's all Cooper's ducks withhim, Charlie; won't run to a pint o' four 'arf,And yet he will slate me like sugar, and give me cold beans with his charf.Sez Dannel—and dash his darned cheek, Charlie!—"Monkeys like you"—meaningMe!—"Give the latter-day Mammon his chance. Your idea of a lark or a spreeIs all Noise, Noodle-Nonsense, and Nastiness! Dives, who wants an excuseFor exclusiveness, finds it inyou, you contemptible coarse-cackling goose!"Riparian rights? That's the patter of Ahab to Naboth, of course;But 'tis pickles like you make it plausible, louts such as you give it force.You make sweet Thames reaches Gehennas, the fair Norfolk Broads you befoul;You—you, who'd make Beulah a hell with your blatant Bank Holiday howl!"Decent property-owners abhor you; you spread your coarse feasts on their lawns,And 'Arry's a hog when he feeds, and an ugly Yahoo when he yawns;You litter, and ravage, and cock-sky; you romp like a satyr obscene,And the noise of you rises to heaven till earth might blush red through her green."You are moneyed, sometimes, and well-tailored; but come you from Oxford or Bow,You're a flaring offence when you lounge, and a blundering pest when you row;Your 'monkeyings' mar every pageant, your shindyings spoil every sport,And there isn't an Eden on earth but's destroyed when it's 'Arry's resort."Then monopolist Mammon may chuckle, Riparian Ahabs rejoice;There's excuse in your Caliban aspect, your hoarse and ear-torturing voice,You pitiful Cockney-born Cloten, you slum-bred Silenus, 'tis youSpoil the silver-streamed Thames for Pan-lovers, and all the nymph-worshipping crew!"I've "reported" as near as no matter! I don't hunderstand more than arfOf his patter; he's preciously given to potry and classical charf.But the cheek on it, Charlie! A Stone-broke! Ishouldlike to give him wot for,Only Dannel the Dosser's a dab orf of whom 'tain't so easy to score.But it's time that this bunkum was bunnicked, bin fur too much on it of late—Us on 'Opkins's 'ouse-boat, I tell yer, cared nix for the ink-spiller's "slate."Imean doin' them Broads later on, for free fishing and shooting, that's flat.If I don't give them dash'd Norfolk Dumplings a doing, I'll eat my old 'at.Rooral quiet, and rest, and refinement? Oh, let 'em go home and eat coke.These fussy old footlers whose 'air stands on hend at a row-de-dow joke,The song of the skylark sounds pooty, but "skylarking" song's better fun,And you carn't do the rooral to-rights on a tract and a tuppenny bun.As to colour, and kick-up, and sing-song, our party was fair to the front;But we wosn't alone; lots of toppers, in 'ouse-boat, or four-oar, or punt,Wos a doin' the rorty and rosy as lively as 'Opkins's lot,Ah! the swells sling it out pooty thick;theyain't stashed by no ink-spiller's rot.Bright blazers, and twingle-twang banjoes, and bottles of Bass, my dear boy,Lots of dashing, and splashing, and "mashing" are things every man must enjoy,And the petticoats ain't fur behind 'em, you bet. While top-ropes I can carry,It ain't soap-board slop about "Quiet" will put the clear kibosh on 'Arry.

Dear Charlie,—It's 'ot, and no error! Summer on us, at last, with a bust;

Ninety odd in the shade as I write, I've a 'ed, and a thunderin' thust.

Can't go on the trot at this tempryture, though I'm on 'oliday still;

So I'll pull out myeskrytor, Charlie, and give you a touch of my quill.

If you find as my fist runs to size, set it down to that quill, dear old pal;Correspondents is on to me lately, complains as I write like a gal.Sixteen words to the page, and slopscrawly, all dashes and blobs. Well, it's true;But a quill and big sprawl is the fashion, so wot is a feller to do?

If you find as my fist runs to size, set it down to that quill, dear old pal;

Correspondents is on to me lately, complains as I write like a gal.

Sixteen words to the page, and slopscrawly, all dashes and blobs. Well, it's true;

But a quill and big sprawl is the fashion, so wot is a feller to do?

Didn't spot you at 'Enley, old oyster—I did 'ope you'd shove in your oar.We 'ad a rare barney, I tell you, although a bit spiled by the pour.

Didn't spot you at 'Enley, old oyster—I did 'ope you'd shove in your oar.

We 'ad a rare barney, I tell you, although a bit spiled by the pour.

'Ad a invite to 'Opkins's 'ouse-boat, prime pitch, and swell party, yer know,Pooty girls, first-class lotion, and music. I tell yer we did let things go.

'Ad a invite to 'Opkins's 'ouse-boat, prime pitch, and swell party, yer know,

Pooty girls, first-class lotion, and music. I tell yer we did let things go.

Who sez 'Enley ain't up to old form, that Society gives it the slip?Wish you could 'ave seen us—and heard us—old boy, when aboard of our ship.Peonies and poppies ain't in it for colour with our little lot,And with larfter and banjos permiskus we managed to mix it up 'ot.

Who sez 'Enley ain't up to old form, that Society gives it the slip?

Wish you could 'ave seen us—and heard us—old boy, when aboard of our ship.

Peonies and poppies ain't in it for colour with our little lot,

And with larfter and banjos permiskus we managed to mix it up 'ot.

Man in blazerMy blazer was claret and mustard, my "stror" was a rainbow gone wrong!I ain't one who's ashamed of his colours, but likes 'em mixed midd-lingish strong.'Emmy 'Opkins, the fluffy-'aired daughter, a dab at a punt or canoe,Said I looked like a garden of dahlias, and showed up her neat navy blue.

Man in blazer

My blazer was claret and mustard, my "stror" was a rainbow gone wrong!

I ain't one who's ashamed of his colours, but likes 'em mixed midd-lingish strong.

'Emmy 'Opkins, the fluffy-'aired daughter, a dab at a punt or canoe,

Said I looked like a garden of dahlias, and showed up her neat navy blue.

Fair mashed on yours truly, Miss Emmy; but that's only jest by the way,'Arry ain't one to brag ofbong jour tunes; but wot I wos wanting to sayIs about this here "spiling the River" which snarlers set down to our sort.Bosh! Charlie, extreme Tommy rot! It's these sniffers as want to spile sport.

Fair mashed on yours truly, Miss Emmy; but that's only jest by the way,

'Arry ain't one to brag ofbong jour tunes; but wot I wos wanting to say

Is about this here "spiling the River" which snarlers set down to our sort.

Bosh! Charlie, extreme Tommy rot! It's these sniffers as want to spile sport.

Want things all to theirselves, these old jossers, and all on the strictest Q. T.Their idea of the Thames being "spiled" by the smallest suggestion of spree,Wy, it's right down rediklus, old pal, gives a feller the dithreums it do.I mean going for them a rare bat, and I'm game to wire in till all's blue.

Want things all to theirselves, these old jossers, and all on the strictest Q. T.

Their idea of the Thames being "spiled" by the smallest suggestion of spree,

Wy, it's right down rediklus, old pal, gives a feller the dithreums it do.

I mean going for them a rare bat, and I'm game to wire in till all's blue.

Who are they, these stuckuppy snipsters, as jaw about quiet and peace,Who would silence the gay "constant-screamer" and line the Thames banks with perlice;Who sneer about "'Arry at 'Enley," and sniff about "cads on the course,"As though it meant "Satan in Eden"? I'll 'owl at sich oafs till I'm 'oarse!

Who are they, these stuckuppy snipsters, as jaw about quiet and peace,

Who would silence the gay "constant-screamer" and line the Thames banks with perlice;

Who sneer about "'Arry at 'Enley," and sniff about "cads on the course,"

As though it meant "Satan in Eden"? I'll 'owl at sich oafs till I'm 'oarse!

Scrap o' sandwich-greased paper 'll shock 'em, a ginger-beer bottle or "Bass,"Wot 'appens to drop 'mong the lilies, or gets chucked aside on the grass,Makes 'em gasp like a frog in a frying-pan. Br-r-r-r! Wot old mivvies they are!Got nerves like a cobweb, I reckon, a smart banjo-twang makes 'em jar.

Scrap o' sandwich-greased paper 'll shock 'em, a ginger-beer bottle or "Bass,"

Wot 'appens to drop 'mong the lilies, or gets chucked aside on the grass,

Makes 'em gasp like a frog in a frying-pan. Br-r-r-r! Wot old mivvies they are!

Got nerves like a cobweb, I reckon, a smart banjo-twang makes 'em jar.

I'm toffy, you know, and no flies, Charlie; swim with the swells, and all that,ButI'm blowed if this bunkum don't make me inclined to turn Radical rat."Riparian rights," too! Oh scissors! They'd block the backwaters and broads,Because me and my pals likes a lark! Serve 'em right if old Burns busts their 'oards!

I'm toffy, you know, and no flies, Charlie; swim with the swells, and all that,

ButI'm blowed if this bunkum don't make me inclined to turn Radical rat.

"Riparian rights," too! Oh scissors! They'd block the backwaters and broads,

Because me and my pals likes a lark! Serve 'em right if old Burns busts their 'oards!

Rum blokes, these here Sosherlist spouters! There's Dannel the Dosser, old chap,As you've 'eard me elude to afore. Fair stone-broker, not wuth 'arf a rap—Knows it's all Cooper's ducks withhim, Charlie; won't run to a pint o' four 'arf,And yet he will slate me like sugar, and give me cold beans with his charf.

Rum blokes, these here Sosherlist spouters! There's Dannel the Dosser, old chap,

As you've 'eard me elude to afore. Fair stone-broker, not wuth 'arf a rap—

Knows it's all Cooper's ducks withhim, Charlie; won't run to a pint o' four 'arf,

And yet he will slate me like sugar, and give me cold beans with his charf.

Sez Dannel—and dash his darned cheek, Charlie!—"Monkeys like you"—meaningMe!—"Give the latter-day Mammon his chance. Your idea of a lark or a spreeIs all Noise, Noodle-Nonsense, and Nastiness! Dives, who wants an excuseFor exclusiveness, finds it inyou, you contemptible coarse-cackling goose!

Sez Dannel—and dash his darned cheek, Charlie!—"Monkeys like you"—meaningMe!—

"Give the latter-day Mammon his chance. Your idea of a lark or a spree

Is all Noise, Noodle-Nonsense, and Nastiness! Dives, who wants an excuse

For exclusiveness, finds it inyou, you contemptible coarse-cackling goose!

"Riparian rights? That's the patter of Ahab to Naboth, of course;But 'tis pickles like you make it plausible, louts such as you give it force.You make sweet Thames reaches Gehennas, the fair Norfolk Broads you befoul;You—you, who'd make Beulah a hell with your blatant Bank Holiday howl!

"Riparian rights? That's the patter of Ahab to Naboth, of course;

But 'tis pickles like you make it plausible, louts such as you give it force.

You make sweet Thames reaches Gehennas, the fair Norfolk Broads you befoul;

You—you, who'd make Beulah a hell with your blatant Bank Holiday howl!

"Decent property-owners abhor you; you spread your coarse feasts on their lawns,And 'Arry's a hog when he feeds, and an ugly Yahoo when he yawns;You litter, and ravage, and cock-sky; you romp like a satyr obscene,And the noise of you rises to heaven till earth might blush red through her green.

"Decent property-owners abhor you; you spread your coarse feasts on their lawns,

And 'Arry's a hog when he feeds, and an ugly Yahoo when he yawns;

You litter, and ravage, and cock-sky; you romp like a satyr obscene,

And the noise of you rises to heaven till earth might blush red through her green.

"You are moneyed, sometimes, and well-tailored; but come you from Oxford or Bow,You're a flaring offence when you lounge, and a blundering pest when you row;Your 'monkeyings' mar every pageant, your shindyings spoil every sport,And there isn't an Eden on earth but's destroyed when it's 'Arry's resort.

"You are moneyed, sometimes, and well-tailored; but come you from Oxford or Bow,

You're a flaring offence when you lounge, and a blundering pest when you row;

Your 'monkeyings' mar every pageant, your shindyings spoil every sport,

And there isn't an Eden on earth but's destroyed when it's 'Arry's resort.

"Then monopolist Mammon may chuckle, Riparian Ahabs rejoice;There's excuse in your Caliban aspect, your hoarse and ear-torturing voice,You pitiful Cockney-born Cloten, you slum-bred Silenus, 'tis youSpoil the silver-streamed Thames for Pan-lovers, and all the nymph-worshipping crew!"

"Then monopolist Mammon may chuckle, Riparian Ahabs rejoice;

There's excuse in your Caliban aspect, your hoarse and ear-torturing voice,

You pitiful Cockney-born Cloten, you slum-bred Silenus, 'tis you

Spoil the silver-streamed Thames for Pan-lovers, and all the nymph-worshipping crew!"

I've "reported" as near as no matter! I don't hunderstand more than arfOf his patter; he's preciously given to potry and classical charf.But the cheek on it, Charlie! A Stone-broke! Ishouldlike to give him wot for,Only Dannel the Dosser's a dab orf of whom 'tain't so easy to score.

I've "reported" as near as no matter! I don't hunderstand more than arf

Of his patter; he's preciously given to potry and classical charf.

But the cheek on it, Charlie! A Stone-broke! Ishouldlike to give him wot for,

Only Dannel the Dosser's a dab orf of whom 'tain't so easy to score.

But it's time that this bunkum was bunnicked, bin fur too much on it of late—Us on 'Opkins's 'ouse-boat, I tell yer, cared nix for the ink-spiller's "slate."Imean doin' them Broads later on, for free fishing and shooting, that's flat.If I don't give them dash'd Norfolk Dumplings a doing, I'll eat my old 'at.

But it's time that this bunkum was bunnicked, bin fur too much on it of late—

Us on 'Opkins's 'ouse-boat, I tell yer, cared nix for the ink-spiller's "slate."

Imean doin' them Broads later on, for free fishing and shooting, that's flat.

If I don't give them dash'd Norfolk Dumplings a doing, I'll eat my old 'at.

Rooral quiet, and rest, and refinement? Oh, let 'em go home and eat coke.These fussy old footlers whose 'air stands on hend at a row-de-dow joke,The song of the skylark sounds pooty, but "skylarking" song's better fun,And you carn't do the rooral to-rights on a tract and a tuppenny bun.

Rooral quiet, and rest, and refinement? Oh, let 'em go home and eat coke.

These fussy old footlers whose 'air stands on hend at a row-de-dow joke,

The song of the skylark sounds pooty, but "skylarking" song's better fun,

And you carn't do the rooral to-rights on a tract and a tuppenny bun.

As to colour, and kick-up, and sing-song, our party was fair to the front;But we wosn't alone; lots of toppers, in 'ouse-boat, or four-oar, or punt,Wos a doin' the rorty and rosy as lively as 'Opkins's lot,Ah! the swells sling it out pooty thick;theyain't stashed by no ink-spiller's rot.

As to colour, and kick-up, and sing-song, our party was fair to the front;

But we wosn't alone; lots of toppers, in 'ouse-boat, or four-oar, or punt,

Wos a doin' the rorty and rosy as lively as 'Opkins's lot,

Ah! the swells sling it out pooty thick;theyain't stashed by no ink-spiller's rot.

Bright blazers, and twingle-twang banjoes, and bottles of Bass, my dear boy,Lots of dashing, and splashing, and "mashing" are things every man must enjoy,And the petticoats ain't fur behind 'em, you bet. While top-ropes I can carry,It ain't soap-board slop about "Quiet" will put the clear kibosh on 'Arry.

Bright blazers, and twingle-twang banjoes, and bottles of Bass, my dear boy,

Lots of dashing, and splashing, and "mashing" are things every man must enjoy,

And the petticoats ain't fur behind 'em, you bet. While top-ropes I can carry,

It ain't soap-board slop about "Quiet" will put the clear kibosh on 'Arry.

(A Lay of Medmenham, by a Broken-hearted Boating Man landing from the Thames, who was informed that, by the rules of the Hotel, visitors were not allowed jam with their tea if served in the garden.)

There's a river hotel that is known very well,From the turmoil of London withdrawn,Between Henley and Staines, where this strange rule obtains—That you must not have jam on the lawn.In the coffee-room still you may eat what you will,Such as chicken, beef, mutton, or brawn,Jam and marmalade too, but, whatever you do,Don't attempt to eat jam on the lawn.Young Jones and his bride sought the cool river side,And she said, as she skipped like a fawn,"As itis, it is nice, but 'twould be paradise,Could we only have jam on the lawn!"

There's a river hotel that is known very well,From the turmoil of London withdrawn,Between Henley and Staines, where this strange rule obtains—That you must not have jam on the lawn.

There's a river hotel that is known very well,

From the turmoil of London withdrawn,

Between Henley and Staines, where this strange rule obtains—

That you must not have jam on the lawn.

In the coffee-room still you may eat what you will,Such as chicken, beef, mutton, or brawn,Jam and marmalade too, but, whatever you do,Don't attempt to eat jam on the lawn.

In the coffee-room still you may eat what you will,

Such as chicken, beef, mutton, or brawn,

Jam and marmalade too, but, whatever you do,

Don't attempt to eat jam on the lawn.

Young Jones and his bride sought the cool river side,And she said, as she skipped like a fawn,"As itis, it is nice, but 'twould be paradise,Could we only have jam on the lawn!"

Young Jones and his bride sought the cool river side,

And she said, as she skipped like a fawn,

"As itis, it is nice, but 'twould be paradise,

Could we only have jam on the lawn!"

THE THAMESTHE THAMES(Development of the houseboat system)

(Development of the houseboat system)

Fun at Henley Regatta"DOWN IN THE DEEP"Fun at Henley Regatta. Bertie attempts to extricate his punt from the crowd.

Fun at Henley Regatta. Bertie attempts to extricate his punt from the crowd.

Two females in a punt"I say, you girls, we shall be over in a second, and if you can't swim better than you punt, I'm afraid I shan't be able to save both of you!"

"I say, you girls, we shall be over in a second, and if you can't swim better than you punt, I'm afraid I shan't be able to save both of you!"

Seasick ladyA PLEDGED M.P. (1869).M.P.'s Bride."Oh! William, dear—if you are—a Liberal—do bring in a Bill—next Session—for that underground tunnel!!"

M.P.'s Bride."Oh! William, dear—if you are—a Liberal—do bring in a Bill—next Session—for that underground tunnel!!"

(Examination for a Master's Certificate)

1. Can you dance a hornpipe? If so, which? (Vivâ voce.) If dancing unaccompanied by fiddle, whistle the first eight bars of College Hornpipe. Also, dance the three first figures of the hornpipe, announcing the distinctive name of each beforehand.

2. Explain the terms "Ahoy!" "Avast!" "Belay!" Whence derived? Also of "Splice my main-brace." Is "main-brace" a part of rigging, or of sailor's costume? Which? If neither, what? Is "Lubber" a term of opprobrium or of endearment? State varieties of "Lubber." Give derivations of the terms "Bum-boat woman," "Marlin' spike," "Son of a sea-cook," "Dash my lee-scuppers!" "Pipe your eye," "Tip us your grapplin' iron."

3. How many mates may a sea captain legally possess at any one time?

4. Is "sextant" the feminine of "sexton"?

5. How often do "the red magnetic pole" and "the blue pole" require repainting? At whose expense is the operation performed?

6. Are only Royal Academicians eligible as "painters" on board?

7. Is it the duty of the surgeon on board ship to attend the "heeling"?

8. In case the needles of the compass get out of order, will pins do as well?

9. At what time in the day, whether previous or subsequent to dinner, is it necessary to "allow for deviations"?

10. Draw a picture of "Three Belles." Give classic illustration from the story of Paris.

11. What rule is there as to showing lights on nearing Liverpool?

12. When in doubt, would you consult "the visible horizon," "the sensible horizon," or "the rational horizon"? Give reason for your selection.

13. Can sailors ever trust "the artificial horizon"? If so, under what circumstances?

14. Is "Azimuth" an idol, or something to eat?

15. Would "mean time" always refer to lowering wages or diminishing rations?

16. Presuming you know all about the "complement of an arc," explain that of Noah's.

17. Who was "Parallax"? Give a brief sketch of his career.

18. Give example of "meridian altitude of a celestial object," by drawing a picture of the Chinese giant who was over here some time ago.

19. Give history of "the Poles." Who was Kosciusko? Is this spelling of his name correct?

20. "Civil time." Illustrate this term from English history.

21. Can a "first mate's ordinary certificate" be granted by Doctors' Commons or the Archbishop of Canterbury?

(On these questions being satisfactorily answered, the next Examination Paper will be issued.)

safe way of changing placesTHAMES TRAGEDIESJones says there is only onereallysafe way of changing places in a skiff!

Jones says there is only onereallysafe way of changing places in a skiff!

DE GUSTIBUSDE GUSTIBUS, ETC.Philosophical Sea-faring Party(who manages our friend's yacht). "Well, ladies and genelmen, I s'pose this is whatyoucallspleasure, and comes all the way from London for?"[Brown, the funny man, with the eye-glass, thinks it anIdyachtickind of pleasure, but is actually too far gone to say so.

Philosophical Sea-faring Party(who manages our friend's yacht). "Well, ladies and genelmen, I s'pose this is whatyoucallspleasure, and comes all the way from London for?"

[Brown, the funny man, with the eye-glass, thinks it anIdyachtickind of pleasure, but is actually too far gone to say so.

Nice piece o' biled mutton, sir?"Nice piece o' biled mutton, sir?"

I'M AFLOAT

(Mr. Punch in the Ocean on the broad of his back, singeth)

I'm afloat, I'm afloat, what matters it where?So the devils don't know my address, I don't care.Of London I'm sick, I've come down to the sea,And let who will make up next week's number for me!At my lodgings, I know, I'm done frightfully brown,And e'en lobsters and shrimps cost me more than in town;I've B. flats in my bed, and my landlady stern,Says from London I've brought 'em to give her a turn.Yet I'm happier far in my dear seaside home,Than the Queen on Dee side, or Art-traveller in Rome;A Cab-horse at grass would be nothing to me,On the broad of my back floating free, floating free!On the broad of my back floating free, floating free!Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha!Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha!With the lodging-house-keepers all day on the bite,And the insects I spoke of as hungry at night,With the organs "Dog-traying" and "Bobbing Around,"And extra-size Crinolines sweeping the ground,You may thinkMr. Punchmight be apt to complainThat the seaside's but Regent Street over again:But from devils and copy and proof-sheets set free,I've a week to do nothing but bathe in the sea.In steamers and yachts I've been rocked on its breast,And didn't much like it, it must be confessed;But a cosy machine and shoal water give me,And there let me float—let me float and be free!Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha!Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha!(1858)

I'm afloat, I'm afloat, what matters it where?

So the devils don't know my address, I don't care.

Of London I'm sick, I've come down to the sea,

And let who will make up next week's number for me!

At my lodgings, I know, I'm done frightfully brown,

And e'en lobsters and shrimps cost me more than in town;

I've B. flats in my bed, and my landlady stern,

Says from London I've brought 'em to give her a turn.

Yet I'm happier far in my dear seaside home,

Than the Queen on Dee side, or Art-traveller in Rome;

A Cab-horse at grass would be nothing to me,

On the broad of my back floating free, floating free!On the broad of my back floating free, floating free!Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha!Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha!

On the broad of my back floating free, floating free!

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha!

With the lodging-house-keepers all day on the bite,And the insects I spoke of as hungry at night,With the organs "Dog-traying" and "Bobbing Around,"And extra-size Crinolines sweeping the ground,You may thinkMr. Punchmight be apt to complainThat the seaside's but Regent Street over again:But from devils and copy and proof-sheets set free,I've a week to do nothing but bathe in the sea.In steamers and yachts I've been rocked on its breast,And didn't much like it, it must be confessed;But a cosy machine and shoal water give me,And there let me float—let me float and be free!Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha!Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha!(1858)

With the lodging-house-keepers all day on the bite,

And the insects I spoke of as hungry at night,

With the organs "Dog-traying" and "Bobbing Around,"

And extra-size Crinolines sweeping the ground,

You may thinkMr. Punchmight be apt to complain

That the seaside's but Regent Street over again:

But from devils and copy and proof-sheets set free,

I've a week to do nothing but bathe in the sea.

In steamers and yachts I've been rocked on its breast,

And didn't much like it, it must be confessed;

But a cosy machine and shoal water give me,

And there let me float—let me float and be free!

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha!

(1858)

Come, George, give your clubs and your Haskells a rest, man:You can't spend the whole of your lifetime in golf;If it pleases your pride I'll admit you're the best manThat ever wore scarlet or teed a ball off;I'll allow they can't match you in swinging or driving,That your shots are as long as they always are true,And I'll grant that what others effect after strivingFor years on the green comes by nature to you.

Come, George, give your clubs and your Haskells a rest, man:

You can't spend the whole of your lifetime in golf;

If it pleases your pride I'll admit you're the best man

That ever wore scarlet or teed a ball off;

I'll allow they can't match you in swinging or driving,

That your shots are as long as they always are true,

And I'll grant that what others effect after striving

For years on the green comes by nature to you.

Mr. P. relaxing.

But the sun's in the sky, and the leaves are a-shiverWith a soft bit of breeze that is cool to the brow;And I seem to remember a jolly old riverWhich is smiling all over—I think you know how.There are whispers of welcome from rushes and sedge there,There's a blaze of laburnum and lilac and may;There are lawns of close grass sloping down to the edge there;You can lie there and lounge there and dream there to-day.There are great spreading chestnuts all ranged in their archesWith their pinnacled blossoms so pink and so white;There are rugged old oaks, there are tender young larches,There are willows, cool willows, to chequer the light.Each tree seems to ask you to come and be shaded—It's a way they all have, these adorable trees—And the leaves all invite you to float down unaidedIn your broad-bottomed punt and to rest at your ease.And then, when we're tired of thedolce far niente,We'll remember our skill in the grandest of sports,Imagine we're back at the great age of twenty,And change our long clothes for a zephyr and shorts.And so, with a zest that no time can diminish,We will sit in our boat and get forward and dare,As we grip the beginning and hold out the finish,To smite the Thames furrows afloat in a pair.

But the sun's in the sky, and the leaves are a-shiver

With a soft bit of breeze that is cool to the brow;

And I seem to remember a jolly old river

Which is smiling all over—I think you know how.

There are whispers of welcome from rushes and sedge there,

There's a blaze of laburnum and lilac and may;

There are lawns of close grass sloping down to the edge there;

You can lie there and lounge there and dream there to-day.

There are great spreading chestnuts all ranged in their archesWith their pinnacled blossoms so pink and so white;There are rugged old oaks, there are tender young larches,There are willows, cool willows, to chequer the light.Each tree seems to ask you to come and be shaded—It's a way they all have, these adorable trees—And the leaves all invite you to float down unaidedIn your broad-bottomed punt and to rest at your ease.

There are great spreading chestnuts all ranged in their arches

With their pinnacled blossoms so pink and so white;

There are rugged old oaks, there are tender young larches,

There are willows, cool willows, to chequer the light.

Each tree seems to ask you to come and be shaded—

It's a way they all have, these adorable trees—

And the leaves all invite you to float down unaided

In your broad-bottomed punt and to rest at your ease.

And then, when we're tired of thedolce far niente,We'll remember our skill in the grandest of sports,Imagine we're back at the great age of twenty,And change our long clothes for a zephyr and shorts.And so, with a zest that no time can diminish,We will sit in our boat and get forward and dare,As we grip the beginning and hold out the finish,To smite the Thames furrows afloat in a pair.

And then, when we're tired of thedolce far niente,

We'll remember our skill in the grandest of sports,

Imagine we're back at the great age of twenty,

And change our long clothes for a zephyr and shorts.

And so, with a zest that no time can diminish,

We will sit in our boat and get forward and dare,

As we grip the beginning and hold out the finish,

To smite the Thames furrows afloat in a pair.

WHEN THE BEES ARE SWARMINGAQUATICS—WHEN THE BEES ARE SWARMING

PREHISTORIC PEEPSPREHISTORIC PEEPSIt is quite a mistake to suppose that Henley Regatta was not anticipated in earliest times.

It is quite a mistake to suppose that Henley Regatta was not anticipated in earliest times.

Two in a boatI sat in a punt at Twickenham,I've sat at Hampton Wick in 'em.I hate sea boats, I'm sick in 'em—The man, I, Tom, and Dick in 'em.Oh, gentles! I've been pickin 'em.For bait, the man's been stickin 'em(Cruel!) on hooks with kick in 'emThe small fish have been lickin 'em.And when the hook was quick in 'em,I with my rod was nickin 'em,Up in the air was flickin 'em.My feet so cold, kept kickin 'em.We'd hampers, withaspicin 'em,Sandwiches made of chicken, 'emWe ate, we'd stone jars thick, in 'emGood liquor; we pic-nic-ing 'emSat: till our necks a rick in 'emWe turned again t'wards Twickenham.And paid our punts, for tickin 'emThey don't quite see at Twickenham.

Two in a boat

I sat in a punt at Twickenham,

I've sat at Hampton Wick in 'em.

I hate sea boats, I'm sick in 'em—

The man, I, Tom, and Dick in 'em.

Oh, gentles! I've been pickin 'em.

For bait, the man's been stickin 'em

(Cruel!) on hooks with kick in 'em

The small fish have been lickin 'em.

And when the hook was quick in 'em,

I with my rod was nickin 'em,

Up in the air was flickin 'em.

My feet so cold, kept kickin 'em.

We'd hampers, withaspicin 'em,

Sandwiches made of chicken, 'em

We ate, we'd stone jars thick, in 'em

Good liquor; we pic-nic-ing 'em

Sat: till our necks a rick in 'em

We turned again t'wards Twickenham.

And paid our punts, for tickin 'em

They don't quite see at Twickenham.

THE ART OF CONVERSATIONTHE ART OF CONVERSATIONBritish Tourist(to fellow-passenger, in mid-Channel). "Going across, I suppose?"Fellow-Passenger."Yaas. Are you?"

British Tourist(to fellow-passenger, in mid-Channel). "Going across, I suppose?"

Fellow-Passenger."Yaas. Are you?"

Very fair.—Really delightful. Nothing could be pleasanter. Sunshine. Ozone. Does everyone a world of good. Would not miss such a passage for worlds.

Fair.—Yes; it is decidedly an improvement upon a railway carriage. Room to move about. I don't in the least mind the eighty odd minutes. If cold, you can put on a wrap, and there you are.

Change.—Always thought there was something to be said in favour of the Channel Tunnel. Of course, one likes to be patriotic, but the movement in a choppy sea is the reverse of invigorating.

Wind.—There should be a notice when a bad passage is expected. It's all very well to describe this as "moderate," but that doesn't prevent the beastly waves from running mountains high.

Stormy.—It is simply disgraceful. Would not have come if I had known. Too depressed to say anything. Where is the steward?

Gale.—Why—was—I—ever—born?

EUPHEMISMEUPHEMISMMan in Boat."Come along, old chap, and let's pull up to Marlow."Man on Shore."I think I'll get you to excuse me, old man. I don't like sculling—it—er—hurts the back of my head so!"

Man in Boat."Come along, old chap, and let's pull up to Marlow."

Man on Shore."I think I'll get you to excuse me, old man. I don't like sculling—it—er—hurts the back of my head so!"

A CRISISA CRISISHis Better and Stouter Half."Oh, Charley, if we're upset, you mean to say you expect me to get intothis?"[Horror-stricken husband has no answer ready.

His Better and Stouter Half."Oh, Charley, if we're upset, you mean to say you expect me to get intothis?"

[Horror-stricken husband has no answer ready.

They met, 'twas in a storm,On the deck of a steamer;She spoke in language warm,Like a sentimental dreamer.He spoke—at least he tried;His position he altered;Then turn'd his face aside,And his deep-ton'd voice falter'd.She gazed upon the wave,Sublime she declared it;But no reply he gave—He could not have dared it.A breeze came from the south,Across the billows sweeping;His heart was in his mouth,And out he thought 'twas leaping."O, then, Steward," he cried,With the deepest emotion;Then tottered to the side,And leant o'er the ocean.The world may think him cold,But they'll pardon him with quickness,When the fact they shall be told,That he suffer'd from sea-sickness.

They met, 'twas in a storm,On the deck of a steamer;She spoke in language warm,Like a sentimental dreamer.

They met, 'twas in a storm,

On the deck of a steamer;

She spoke in language warm,

Like a sentimental dreamer.

He spoke—at least he tried;His position he altered;Then turn'd his face aside,And his deep-ton'd voice falter'd.

He spoke—at least he tried;

His position he altered;

Then turn'd his face aside,

And his deep-ton'd voice falter'd.

She gazed upon the wave,Sublime she declared it;But no reply he gave—He could not have dared it.

She gazed upon the wave,

Sublime she declared it;

But no reply he gave—

He could not have dared it.

A breeze came from the south,Across the billows sweeping;His heart was in his mouth,And out he thought 'twas leaping.

A breeze came from the south,

Across the billows sweeping;

His heart was in his mouth,

And out he thought 'twas leaping.

"O, then, Steward," he cried,With the deepest emotion;Then tottered to the side,And leant o'er the ocean.

"O, then, Steward," he cried,

With the deepest emotion;

Then tottered to the side,

And leant o'er the ocean.

The world may think him cold,But they'll pardon him with quickness,When the fact they shall be told,That he suffer'd from sea-sickness.

The world may think him cold,

But they'll pardon him with quickness,

When the fact they shall be told,

That he suffer'd from sea-sickness.

ILLUSTRATIONS TO SHAKSPEAREPUNCH'S ILLUSTRATIONS TO SHAKSPEARE"Richmondis on the seas."Richard III., Act iv., Scene 4.

"Richmondis on the seas."

Richard III., Act iv., Scene 4.

ByProfessor Aquarius Brick

We were present when the accomplished Professor Brick recently delivered a series of lectures on yachting, which were very well attended. By his kind permission, we have preserved bits of the discourses here and there. We extract,à discrétion:—

"I come now," went on the Professor, "to your most important yachters—your genuine swells. Their cutters are in every harbour; you trace their wake by empty champagne bottles on every sea. To such dandy sea-kings I would now say one word.

"About your choice of cruising ground you cannot have much difficulty. The Mediterranean is your proper spot. It is true that we will not tolerate its being made a French lake—its proper vocation is that of English pond!

"I would advise you all to be very particular in not letting your 'skipper' have too much authority.Remember always, thatyou are the owner—high-spirited gentlemen do. Surely a man may sail his own yacht, if anybody may! It is as much his property as his horse is. To be sure, when the weather is very bad, I would let the fellow take charge then. There is a very odd difference between the Bay of Biscay and the water inside the Isle of Wight, when it blows. And a skippertoo much snubbedgets rusty at awkward times.

"Your conduct in harbour will be regulated by circumstances—which means, dinners. Generally speaking, the fact of having a yacht will carry you everywhere. As every aëronaut is 'intrepid' by courtesy, so every yachtsman is a 'fashionable arrival.' This great truth is scarcely enough appreciated in England. I have known very worthy men spend in trying to get into great society in London, sums which, judiciously investedin a yacht, would have taken them to dozens of great people's houses abroad. You will get asked to dinner; you will be feasted well, generally. Anything in the way of excitement—particularly good, rich, hospitable excitement—is heartily welcome in our colonial settlements and stations.

"But I am not now speaking only to those who yacht, because to have a yacht is a fine thing. I recognise also an imperial class of yachtsmen—the swans of the flock of geese. I have seen a coronet on a binnacle, before now. I have seen a large stately schooner sail into a Mediterranean port—as into a drawing-room—splendid and serene. The harbour-master's boat is on the alert these mornings. The men-of-war send their boats to tow; the dandiest lieutenant goes in the barge; the senior captain offers his services. When such a yacht as that goes into the Golden Horn, the Sultan is shown to these yachters—like any curiosity in his capital—like any odd thing in his town! They are presented to him, as it is called, thathemay be looked at.

"To this magnificent class I have not much to say. They don't snub their skipper—they are far too fine to do that. They are scarcely distinctive as travellers, for they are the same abroad as at home. In them, England is represented. England floats in a lump through the sea, like Delos used to do. As they say and do just the same as they have always said and done at home—see and mix with the same kind of people—I often wonder what they learn by it. When they go to visitThermopylæ or Marathon, it is with a lot of tents, donkeys, camp-stools, travelling-cases, guides, and servants—such as Xerxes might have had. They encumber the ruins of temples with the multitude of their baggage. The position seems so unnatural, that I can't fancy their getting any moral or intellectual profit from it. They are too well off for that—like a fellow who cannot see for fat. Depend on it, you cannot see much through a painted window, however fine it is."

Professor Brick concluded his first sketch amidst much applause.

VERY THOUGHTFULHOW VERY THOUGHTFULOld Lady."Are you not afraid of getting drown'd when you have the boat so full?"Boatman."Oh, dear, no, mum. I always wears a life-belt, so I'm safe enough."

Old Lady."Are you not afraid of getting drown'd when you have the boat so full?"

Boatman."Oh, dear, no, mum. I always wears a life-belt, so I'm safe enough."

Two men in boat.Complaisant Uncle(who has remembered his nephew in his will, and is up to his ankles in water). "I say, John, do you know your boat leaks?"Nephew(high and dry on the thwarts). "Like old boots!"Uncle."But I—— What's to be done?"Nephew."Wait till she fills, and then put on a spurt for the shore!!"

Complaisant Uncle(who has remembered his nephew in his will, and is up to his ankles in water). "I say, John, do you know your boat leaks?"

Nephew(high and dry on the thwarts). "Like old boots!"

Uncle."But I—— What's to be done?"

Nephew."Wait till she fills, and then put on a spurt for the shore!!"

Mr Punch talking to boyMASTER JOHN BULL IN TROUBLE (1851)Mr. Punch."Why, Johnny, what's the matter?"Johnny."If you please, sir, there's a nasty ugly American been beating me."

Mr. Punch."Why, Johnny, what's the matter?"

Johnny."If you please, sir, there's a nasty ugly American been beating me."

SERVING HIM OUTSERVING HIM OUTMrs. T.(to T.) "Feel a little more comfortable, dear? Can I get anything else for you? Would you like your cigar case now? (Aside.) I'll teach him to go out to Greenwich and Richmond without me, and sit up half the night at his club!"

Mrs. T.(to T.) "Feel a little more comfortable, dear? Can I get anything else for you? Would you like your cigar case now? (Aside.) I'll teach him to go out to Greenwich and Richmond without me, and sit up half the night at his club!"

Row, ladies, row! It will do you good:Pleasant the stream under Cliefden Wood:When our skiff with the river drops down again,Glad you will be of some iced champagne.O, a boat on the river is doubly dearWhen you've nothing to do but adore and steer.Row, darlings, row! Whether stroke or bowIs sweeter to look at, better to row,Is a question that plagues not me, as I laze,And on their graceful movement gaze.'Tis the happiest hour of the sultry year:The swift oars twinkle; I smoke and steer.Row, beauties, row! 'Tis uncommon hot:Icanrow stroke, but I'd rather not.As we meet the sunset's afterglow,Two absolute angels seem to row;Wingless they are, so of flight no fear—Home to dinner I mean to steer.

Row, ladies, row! It will do you good:

Pleasant the stream under Cliefden Wood:

When our skiff with the river drops down again,

Glad you will be of some iced champagne.

O, a boat on the river is doubly dear

When you've nothing to do but adore and steer.

Row, darlings, row! Whether stroke or bowIs sweeter to look at, better to row,Is a question that plagues not me, as I laze,And on their graceful movement gaze.'Tis the happiest hour of the sultry year:The swift oars twinkle; I smoke and steer.

Row, darlings, row! Whether stroke or bow

Is sweeter to look at, better to row,

Is a question that plagues not me, as I laze,

And on their graceful movement gaze.

'Tis the happiest hour of the sultry year:

The swift oars twinkle; I smoke and steer.

Row, beauties, row! 'Tis uncommon hot:Icanrow stroke, but I'd rather not.As we meet the sunset's afterglow,Two absolute angels seem to row;Wingless they are, so of flight no fear—Home to dinner I mean to steer.

Row, beauties, row! 'Tis uncommon hot:

Icanrow stroke, but I'd rather not.

As we meet the sunset's afterglow,

Two absolute angels seem to row;

Wingless they are, so of flight no fear—

Home to dinner I mean to steer.

Father ThamesFather Thames(to Henley Naiads). "Don't be alarmed, my dears. If he comes within our reach, I'll soon settle his business!"["The G. W. R. Company must have known that their contemplated line from Marlow to Henley would raise a storm of opposition against any interference with the Thames at spots so sacred to all oarsmen."—Vide "A Correspondent" in "Times."

Father Thames(to Henley Naiads). "Don't be alarmed, my dears. If he comes within our reach, I'll soon settle his business!"

["The G. W. R. Company must have known that their contemplated line from Marlow to Henley would raise a storm of opposition against any interference with the Thames at spots so sacred to all oarsmen."—Vide "A Correspondent" in "Times."

(Page from the Diary of a Sweet Girl Clubbist)

Monday.—Very pleased I have been chosen for the boat. So glad to have been taken before Amy and Blanche. I am sure I shall look better than either of them. They needn't have been so disagreeable about it. Amy asking for her racquet back, and Blanche refusing to lend me her cloak with the feather trimmings. Fanny should make a first-rate stroke, and Kate a model coach.

Tuesday.—We were to have practice to-day, but postponed it to decide on our colours. Blouses are to be left optional, but we are all to wear the same caps. We had a terrible fight over it. Fanny, Rose and I are blonde, so naturally we want light blue. Henrietta is a brunette, and (selfish thing!) stood out for yellow! However, we settled it amicably at last by choosing—as a compromise—pink. Then I made a capital suggestion, which pleased everybody immensely. Instead of caps we are to wear picture-hats.

Wednesday.—Went out in our boat for the first time. Such a fight for places! I managed to secure bow, which is a long way the best seat, as you lead the procession. Everybody sees you first, and it is most important that the crew should create a good impression. Henrietta wanted the position, and said that her brother had told her that the lightest girl should always be bow. Ireplied "quite right, and as I had lighter hair than hers, and my eyes were blue and hers brown, of course it should be me." Fanny and Rose agreed with me, and Kate (who was annoyed at not being consulted enough) placed her five. Henrietta was in such a rage!

Thursday.—We are in training! Think it rather nonsense. Why should we give upmeringuesand sponge-cakes? And as to cigarettes, that isn't really a privation, as none of us really like them. A mile's run isn't bad, but it wears out one's shoes terribly. Kate wanted us all to drink stout, but we refused. We have compromised it by takingfleur d'orangemixed with soda-water instead. The Turkish bath is rather long, but you can read a novel after the douche. Take it altogether, perhaps training is rather fun. Still, I think it, as I have already said, nonsense, especially in regard to sponge-cakes andmeringues.

Friday.—Spent the whole of the morning in practising starts. Everybody disagreeable—Kate absolutely rude. Fancy wanting me to put down my parasol! And then Henrietta (spiteful creature!) declaring that I didn't keep my eyeon the steering (we have lost our coxswain—had to pay a visit to some people in the country) because Iwouldlook at the people on the banks! And Kate backing her up! I was very angry indeed. So I didn't come to practice in the afternoon, saying I had a bad headache, and went instead to Flora's five o'clock tea.

Saturday.—The day of the race! Everybody in great spirits, and looking their best. Even Henrietta was nice. Our picture-hats were perfectly beautiful. Fanny came out with additional feathers, which wasn't quite fair. But she said, as she was "stroke" she ought to be different from the rest. And as it was too late to have the hat altered we submitted. We started, and got on beautifully. I saw lots of people I knew on the towing-path, and waved to them. And just because I dropped hold of my oar as we got within ten yards of the winning-post they all said it wasmyfault we lost! Who ever heard the like? The crew are a spiteful set of ugly frumps, and on my solemn word I won't row any more. Yes, it's no use asking me, as I say I won't, and I will stick to it. There!

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