Punch (77.1879)

August 9, 1879.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON

57

'AERY ON THE EIYEE.

Dear Charlie,

'Ot weather at last! "Wot a bloornin' old slusher it's bin, . ,
This season ! But now it do look as though Summer wos 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 r

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, themtwo 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 'Aery with
pride.

Wy, we see a swell boat with three ladies, sech rippers, in crewel and buff,

(If /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.

'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 Ave pic-nic'd at last on the lawn of a water-side willa. Oh, my!
When the swells see our bottles and bits, I've a notion some language '11 fly.

It was on the 0. 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 he-fie at noise.
'Ow on earth can yer spree without shindy ? It's jest wot a feller enjoys.

Ouaker-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 0. 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 U eat my old boots if she isn't dead-gone on

Yours bloomingly, 'Arry.

suggestion for skippers.

The Excursion Season is now commencing. Sea Captains and Commanders,
keep a sharp look-out. Steer clear of vessels in each other's way, avoid collisions;
beware of detraction, and do not run one another down.

a malicious trick.

A mischievous rustic, owing his neighbour a grudge, mixed a quantity of
Anti-Fat with his pig's barley-meal.

OUR REPRESENTATIVE MAN.

Describing how he found the Friendly Zulus at St. James's
Hall, with a detailed account of his interesting and
remarkable adventures.

Sir,—The other day, haying a great many better
things to do, I chose to visit the Friendly Zulus at St.
James's Hall, where, by kind permission of the other
Friendly " Coloured Genelum," these six interesting bar-
barians have been located by the Friendly Farini, who
invented Zazel the Flying Fish of the Aquarium.

Feeling a little nervous about assisting at the midday
Zulu1' mealie " to which the Friendly Farini daily invites
the public, and not altogether assured that the Friendly
ones might not take such a fancy to me as to wish me to
provide the entire feed for them in my own person—like
the Mild-eyed Savages who so rapidly acquired a refined
taste for cold missionary "—I determined to defer my
visit until after dinner, when I could come in as a Child
of the Dessert.

Timing myself exactly, and priming myself with a
second coating of lunch, I took my way to Piccadilly,
thinking how much expense and loss of life it would have
saved, had we treated with Cetewayo through the
Friendly Farini, who might have inveigled him over
here and shot him out of a cannon.

Before arriving at the Hall, my attention was arrested
by a photograph in a shop-window, of a wild-looking
person with strange, mad eyes, and matted, any-how
hair. " Surely," 1 said to myself, " this is a portrait of
a Friendly Zulu." No; it was the unfriendly Sarah
Bernhardt, the Sal-volatile of the French Company,
so I passed on to the other Salle, dedicated to St. James—
whether the greater or the Less I do not know_, but in
London he appears to be the Patron Saint of Five-shil-
ling Dinners, Monday Pops, Billiard Matches, a Drink -
ing-Bar, and, properly, if he be St. James of Spain, the
Moore-ish Minstrels.

There was no rush ; no crowd; no excitement.

I do not know the Friendly Farlni by sight, but I
fancied that the elegant gentleman at the door, trimming
his nails in an easy, nonchalant, don't-care-whether-
you-come-or-not sort of way, was the eminent entre-
preneur—-the friend of Mr. Secretary Cross and the
Nigger, Cross and Black-weU—himself in propria persona.

Passing this friendly and distinguished personage in a
deferential manner, 1 walked in and presented myself
in the friendliest way possible to the man in the box,
of whom only the upper half was visible taking the
tickets, and who, by his movements to and fro—he has