Mr. Punch Afloat: The Humours of Boating and Sailing by Hammerton and Tenniel (love story novels in english .txt) 📗
- Author: Hammerton and Tenniel
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[Cover]
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MR. PUNCH AFLOAT TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE.Some pages of this work have been moved from the original sequence to enable the contents to continue without interruption. The page numbering remains unaltered.
PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTONDesigned to provide in a series of
volumes, each complete in itself,
the cream of our national humour,
contributed by the masters of comic
draughtsmanship and the leading wits
of the age to "Punch," from its
beginning in 1841 to the present day.
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[Pg 3]
MR PUNCH AFLOAT THE HUMOURS OF BOATINGAND SAILING
AS PICTURED BY
SIR JOHN TENNIEL, GEORGE DU MAURIER,
JOHN LEECH, CHARLES KEENE, PHIL MAY,
L. RAVEN-HILL, LINLEY SAMBOURNE,
G. D. ARMOUR, A. S. BOYD,
J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE, AND OTHERS.
PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.
[Pg 4]
THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo. 192 pagesfully illustrated
LIFE IN LONDON
COUNTRY LIFE
IN THE HIGHLANDS
SCOTTISH HUMOUR
IRISH HUMOUR
COCKNEY HUMOUR
IN SOCIETY
AFTER DINNER STORIES
IN BOHEMIA
AT THE PLAY
MR. PUNCH AT HOME
ON THE CONTINONG
RAILWAY BOOK
AT THE SEASIDE
MR. PUNCH AFLOAT
IN THE HUNTING FIELD
MR. PUNCH ON TOUR
WITH ROD AND GUN
MR. PUNCH AWHEEL
BOOK OF SPORTS
GOLF STORIES
IN WIG AND GOWN
ON THE WARPATH
BOOK OF LOVE
WITH THE CHILDREN
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River and sea, with their teeming summer life as we know them in Great Britain and around our coasts, have yielded a rich supply of subjects for the pens and pencils of Mr. Punch's merry men. In Stevenson's famous story of "The Merry Men," it is the cruel side of the sea that is symbolised under that ironic description; but there is no touch of gall, no sinister undertone, in the mirth of Mr. Punch's "merry men."
It may be protested that in the pages of this little book, where we have brought together for the first time all Mr. Punch's "happy thoughts" about boating and sailing, the miseries of travel by sea and the discomforts of holiday life on our inland waters are too much insisted upon. But it is as much the function of the humorist as it is the business of the[Pg 6] philosopher to hold the mirror up to nature, and we are persuaded that it is no distorted mirror in which Mr. Punch shows us to ourselves.
After all, although as a nation we are proud to believe that Britannia rules the waves, and to consider ourselves a sea-going people, for the most of us our recollections of Channel passages and trips around our coasts are inevitably associated with memories of mal-de-mer, and it says much for our national good humour that we can turn even our miseries into jest.
Afloat or ashore, Mr. Punch is never "at sea," and while his jokes have always their point, that point is never barbed, as these pages illustrative of the humours of boating and sailing—with Mr. Punch at the helm—may be left safely to bear witness.
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MR. PUNCH AFLOAT 'ARRY ON THE RIVERDear Charlie,
'Ot weather at last! Wot a bloomin' old slusher it's bin,
This season! But now it do look as though Summer was goin' to begin.
Up to now it's bin muck and no error, fit only for fishes and frogs,
And has not give a chap arf a chance like of sporting 'is 'oliday togs.
Sech a sweet thing in mustard and pink, quite reshershay I tell you, old man.
Two quid's pooty stiff, but a buster and blow the expense is my plan;
With a stror 'at and puggeree, Charlie, low shoes and new mulberry gloves.
If I didn't jest fetch our two gals, it's a pity;—and wasn't they loves?
We'd three chaps in the boat besides me,—jest a nice little party of six,
But they didn't get arf a look in 'long o' me; they'd no form, them two sticks.
If you'd seen me a settin' and steerin' with one o' the shes on each side,
You'd a thought me a Turk in check ditters, and looked on your 'Arry with pride.
[Pg 8]Wy, we see a swell boat with three ladies, sech rippers, in crewel and buff,
(If I pulled arf a 'our in their style it 'ud be a bit more than enough)
Well, I tipped 'em a wink as we passed and sez, "Go it, my beauties, well done!"
And, oh lor! if you'd twigged 'em blush up you'd a seen 'ow they relished the fun.
I'm dead filberts, my boy, on the river, it ain't to be beat for a lark.
And the gals as goes boating, my pippin, is jest about "'Arry, his mark."
If you want a good stare, you can always run into 'em—accident quite!
And they carn't charge yer nothink for looking, nor put you in quod for the fright.[Pg 10]
'Ow we chivied the couples a-spoonin', and bunnicked old fishermen's swims,
And put in a Tommy Dodd Chorus to Methodys practisin' hymns!
Then we pic-nic'd at last on the lawn of a waterside willa. Oh, my!
When the swells see our bottles and bits, I've a notion some language'll fly.
It was on the Q. T., in a nook snugged away in a lot of old trees,
I sat on a bust of Apoller, with one of the gurls on my knees!
Cheek, eh? Well, the fam'ly was out, and the servants asleep, I suppose;
For they didn't 'ear even our roar, when I chipped orf the himage's nose.
We'd soon emptied our three-gallon bottle, and Tommy he pulled a bit wild,
And we blundered slap into a skiff, and wos jolly near drownding a child.
Of course we bunked off in the scurry, and showed 'em a clean pair o' legs,
Pullin' up at a waterside inn where we went in for fried 'am and eggs.
We kep that 'ere pub all-alive-oh, I tell yer, with song and with chorus,
To the orful disgust of some prigs as wos progging two tables afore us.
I do 'ate your hushabye sort-like, as puts on the fie-fie at noise.
'Ow on earth can yer spree without shindy? It's jest wot a feller enjoys.[Pg 12]
Quaker-meetings be jiggered, I say; if you're 'appy, my boy, give it tongue.
I tell yer we roused 'em a few, coming 'ome, with the comics we sung.
Hencoring a prime 'un, I somehow forgot to steer straight, and we fouled
The last 'eat of a race—such a lark! Oh, good lor', 'ow they chi-iked and 'owled!
There was honly one slight country-tong, Tommy Blogg, who's a bit of a hass,
Tried to splash a smart pair of swell "spoons" by some willers we 'appened to pass;
And the toff ketched the blade of Tom's scull, dragged 'im close, and jest landed 'im one!
Arter which Master Tom nussed his eye up, and seemed rayther out of the fun.
Sez the toff, "You're the pests of the river, you cads!" Well, I didn't reply,
'Cos yer see before gals, it ain't nice when a feller naps one in the eye;
But it's all bloomin' nonsense, my boy! If he'd only jest give me a look,
He'd a seen as my form was O.K., as I fancy ain't easy mistook.
Besides, I suppose as the river is free to all sorts, 'igh and low.
That I'm sweet on true swells you're aweer, but for stuck-ups I don't care a blow.
We'd a rare rorty time of it, Charlie, and as for that younger gurl, Carry,
I'll eat my old boots if she isn't dead-gone on
Yours bloomingly,
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In punting, a good strong pole is to be recommended to the beginner.
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Custom House Officer (to sufferer). "Now, sir, will you kindly pick out your luggage? It's got to be examined before you land."
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Old "Salt" at the helm. "Rattlin' fine breeze, gen'lemen."
Chorus of Yachtsmen (faintly). "Y—yes—d'lightful!"
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TO PYRRHA ON THE THAMESO Pyrrha! say what youth in "blazer" drest,
Woos you on pleasant Thames these summer eves;
For whom do you put on that dainty vest,
That sky-blue ribbon and those gigot sleeves?
"Simplex munditiis," as Horace wrote,
And yet, poor lad, he'll find that he is rash;
To-morrow you'll adorn some other boat,
And smile as kindly on another "mash."
As for myself—I'm old, and look askance
At flannels and flirtation; not for me
Youth's idiotic rapture at a glance
From maiden eyes: although it comes from thee.
The Excursion Season.—First Passenger (poetical). "Doesn't the sight o' the cerulean expanse of ocean, bearing on its bosom the white-winged fleets of commerce, fill yer with——"
Second Ditto. "Fi—— not a bit of it." (Steamer takes a slight lurch!) "Quite the contrary!"
[Makes off abruptly!
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MY RIVERSIDE ADWENTUR (A Trew Fact as appened at Great Marlow on Bank Olliday)I was setting one day in the shade,
In the butifull month of August,
When I saw a most butifull maid
A packing of eggs in sum sawdust.
The tears filled her butifull eyes,
And run down her butifull nose,
And I thort it was not werry wise
To let them thus spile her nice close.
So I said to her, lowly and gently,
"Shall I elp you, O fair lovely gal?"
And she ansered, "O dear Mr. Bentley,
If you thinks as you can, why you shall."
And her butifull eyes shone like dimans,
As britely each gleamed thro a tear,
And her smile it was jest like a dry man's
When he's quenching his thirst with sum beer.
Why she called me at wunce Mr. Bentley,
I sort quite in wain to dishcover;
Or weather 'twas dun accidently,
Or if she took me for some other.[Pg 17]
I then set to work most discreetly,
And packed all the eggs with great care;
And I did it so nicely and neatly,
That I saw that my skill made her stare.
So wen all my tarsk was quite ended,
She held out her two lilly hands,
And shook
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