DOI issue:
September 27, 1862
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16870#0142
September 27, 1862.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
135
much as he gets a new and excellent chance of escape. And another
thing is certain, namely, that the criminal is very unlucky, whose
attorney does not provide him with such zealous friends, but confides
his defence to an old-fashioned lawyer, who believes that when he has
done his utmost to get his client’s case successfully through the machine
of justice, he has earned his fee. But these considerations are beside
tllC TTIflTk
“ I do not press for a hasty reply, Sir, as this is the Long Vacation,
and you state yourself to be engaged in throwing stones into the sea.
But, in due course, perhaps you, or some_ of your young men, will
answer the inquiry which I have done myself the honour to propound,
having also the honour to be, dear Punch,
“ Yours truly,
“ Gravesend—I mean Germany, “ A. Moote Poynt.”
“ September %SrdP
A YARN FROM A YACHTSMAN.
iar Punch,
“ Thanks to
Country Cousins
and concomitant
inflictions, such as
dreary family din-
ners and dull days
spent in visiting the
Thames Tunnel and
the Tower, this Ex-
hibition summer has
to residents in Lon-
don been unusually
severe. So I was
not much astonished
when, a week or two
ago, you were kind
enough to notice
that I rather looked
‘ washed out.’ But
see my colour now.
Sir! Is there any
of the pale of society
about it ? I have
not sat at a dinner-
table well nigh for a
month, yet see how
the mahogany has
got into my checks.
And please observe
my biceps. Would it crack a filbert, think you, with^ a squeeze
of the lore-arm ? Yes, there’s nothing like a cruise for putting
fresh life into one. The only water-cure I’ve faith in is the salt-
water-cure, and the best of way for taking it is certainly a yacht.
But then, mind, you must go prepared to rough it, and to bear a ready
hand in whatever work’s aboard, and not t,o sprawl about and smoke
and serenely play the swell. I have seen men wear gloves and dress
for dinner when out yachting, and I have pitied such poor simpletons,
and wished them safe on shore. Fellows proud of their white hands,
and afraid to soil their fingers by the toucli of a tarred rope, had better
stick to steamboats when they go to sea, for a yachting trip can bring
but very little pleasure to them. VV hy, half the pleasure of a cruise
consists in living free from cramping shoregoing restraints. It is the
utter change of life you can enjoy on board a yacht that does your
mind and muscle good, and so soon makes a new man of you. Cooking
your own meals will give an added relish for them, and if you help to
scrub the deck and do the other sailor-work, you won’t complain, as some
do, that—aw—there’s nothing for a fella—aw—to do on board a boat,
and you ’ll find you ’ll sleep more soundly wrapped up in a blanket with
a spare sail for a pillow than you do on your luxurious spring mattress
when at home. There are no organs at sea, and no street-cries to
worry you, and you are out of reach of creditors, and will not have
our breakfast spoiled by seeing in the Times that the girl you love
as married that beast Moneybagge after all, or that the senseless
British public has given further proof of its besotted imbecility by
refusing to see more than the first scene of your new play.
“ I see you frown, my Punch, and screw your lips up ominously; but
no, I’m not going to spin you a tremendously long yarn, and to
weary you and worry you with full details of our cruise. Yours is not a
sporting paper, I am very well aware; and if I wished to go the whole
log or none, I should of course more properly make application to Bell’s
Life or The Field. The only facts that will much interest you are, that
I have cashed the second cheque you sent me, and have been reluctantly
compelled to use your name in strengthening the money-from-the-bank-
extracting power of my own. My only other acts that you will deem
much worth your notice, or the notice of your readers, are that 1 sailed
across the English Channel four times in a week (a thing which has, I
fancy, not been done by many yachtsmen), and that in one of these four
trips I assisted in the capture of a Portuguese Man-of-War. As our
craft was but a cutter of three-and-twenty tons, and the only gun we
carried was a single-barrelled fowling-piece, there may be some ground
for wonder as to how this latter exploit was achieved; and when I
explain that the capture was effected with a bucket and a boat-hook, I
tear the explanation will serve little to diminish the surprise I may
have caused. Pact is fact, however, and I have witnesses to prove the
truth as I have stated it. Only I should add, before the Government
of Portugal seek reparation for the loss they think their navy has sus-
tained, they should ask of some sea-naturalist the meaning of Physalia,
which I believe to be a synonym for Portuguese Man-of-War.
“ Another^ novel circumstance connected with our cruise was that,
having carefully left all our charts at home, the only one we had to
steer by was the railway map of Bradshaw. By this we shaped our
course from Dover to Boulogne, and from Shoreham to Dieppe, and
had no more trouble in making both those ports, than has a wine
merchant in making with Marsala “nutty” sherries. As the fine old
song might say, but doesn’t:—
“ Bradshaw was our only Guide,
Across the swelling Channel Sea,
It told us even the time of tide,
And saved us many a pilot’s fee.”
“Travellers complain of Bradshaw, and say it sadly puzzles them; but
writing as a yachtsman I am sure that I have every reason to speak
well of it, and would say that its directions are remarkably plain-sailing
ones. Steering by Bradshaw is a novel sort of notion, but, now it has
been mentioned, its very novelty will doubtless serve to make it fashion-
able, and ere long some vocal yachtsman will no doubt be heard
asserting that—
“ I fear not but safely I ’ll sail to the shore,
I ’ve a Bradshaw to steer by, and what need I more ? ”
“ Being shut up in a prison with the chance of being drowned may
possibly to some Johnsonian-minded people not appear a very pleasant
way to spend a fortnight’s holiday. But we are not all Dr. Johnsons,
and to such of us as like the sea there are few things more health-
giving and enjoyable than yachting. Men to whom the Ellesmere
motto may seem applicable, and who when they go to sea are usually
Sic donee they put their feet on shore again, of course can’t much
appreciate the pleasures of a cruise, nor should I much desire to
have them for my shipmates. But to those who can enjoy it, a
month’s cruise in a yacht is a delightful way of travelling; and though
you can’t well sail through Switzerland, or get up Mont Blanc by water,
there are other foreign parts quite worth going by sea to see. There’s
nothing like a. breeze at sea to blow the smoke of London out of one :
and, in cruising about watering-places full of insect life, a yacht has
this advantage, that you take your own bed with you.
“ Only wishing, my dear Punch, that you would buy a decent yacht
that I might annually borrow it, I remain,
“ Yours all ataunto (whatever that means),
“ Nauticus.”
HOW TO SEE THE EXHIBITION IN TEN MINUTES.
“ My dear Punch, “ The Albany.
“I hate sensations, and I hate most of my fellow creatures,
and I hate trouble of all kinds. If there are any other folks who entertain
similar feelings, I think they will be as grateful to me—pooh, nobody is
grateful—but I think they ought to say I have done them a civil thing
in telling them that I have made the discovery announced in the heading
to this letter. There is a set of benevolent—at least nobody is bene-
volent—but there is a set of sensible people who call themselves the
Stereoscopic Company. They have taken photographs, capital ones, of
all that is worth seeing in Fowkeria, and you can just buy these and a
stereoscope, and in a few minutes you know all about the Exhibition,
and a good deal more than most people who have tried to see it. Then
there’s the delicious quiet, and you can look as long as you like at the
Venus or the Beading Girl, without being shoved, and without hearing the
various idiots, of all ranks, emitting their noises. You are not irritated
by the swell’s ‘Pon m’ word, not half bad,’ the artist’s ‘All! Now
that colour is not conscientious,’ the snob’s ‘ Spicy party that,’ or the
clown’s ‘ Be that Venice ? ’ And no abominable organs and bands, and
no bother about getting away—you lay down your stereoscope and you
are again in your arm-chair. You may print this, if you like, in the
light of a testimonial, and I don’t care whether you do or not.
“ Your Subscriber,
“ Antibabylon.”
The next Bun that is Wanted.—A Papal Bull’s Bun, with Pope
at the head of it.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
135
much as he gets a new and excellent chance of escape. And another
thing is certain, namely, that the criminal is very unlucky, whose
attorney does not provide him with such zealous friends, but confides
his defence to an old-fashioned lawyer, who believes that when he has
done his utmost to get his client’s case successfully through the machine
of justice, he has earned his fee. But these considerations are beside
tllC TTIflTk
“ I do not press for a hasty reply, Sir, as this is the Long Vacation,
and you state yourself to be engaged in throwing stones into the sea.
But, in due course, perhaps you, or some_ of your young men, will
answer the inquiry which I have done myself the honour to propound,
having also the honour to be, dear Punch,
“ Yours truly,
“ Gravesend—I mean Germany, “ A. Moote Poynt.”
“ September %SrdP
A YARN FROM A YACHTSMAN.
iar Punch,
“ Thanks to
Country Cousins
and concomitant
inflictions, such as
dreary family din-
ners and dull days
spent in visiting the
Thames Tunnel and
the Tower, this Ex-
hibition summer has
to residents in Lon-
don been unusually
severe. So I was
not much astonished
when, a week or two
ago, you were kind
enough to notice
that I rather looked
‘ washed out.’ But
see my colour now.
Sir! Is there any
of the pale of society
about it ? I have
not sat at a dinner-
table well nigh for a
month, yet see how
the mahogany has
got into my checks.
And please observe
my biceps. Would it crack a filbert, think you, with^ a squeeze
of the lore-arm ? Yes, there’s nothing like a cruise for putting
fresh life into one. The only water-cure I’ve faith in is the salt-
water-cure, and the best of way for taking it is certainly a yacht.
But then, mind, you must go prepared to rough it, and to bear a ready
hand in whatever work’s aboard, and not t,o sprawl about and smoke
and serenely play the swell. I have seen men wear gloves and dress
for dinner when out yachting, and I have pitied such poor simpletons,
and wished them safe on shore. Fellows proud of their white hands,
and afraid to soil their fingers by the toucli of a tarred rope, had better
stick to steamboats when they go to sea, for a yachting trip can bring
but very little pleasure to them. VV hy, half the pleasure of a cruise
consists in living free from cramping shoregoing restraints. It is the
utter change of life you can enjoy on board a yacht that does your
mind and muscle good, and so soon makes a new man of you. Cooking
your own meals will give an added relish for them, and if you help to
scrub the deck and do the other sailor-work, you won’t complain, as some
do, that—aw—there’s nothing for a fella—aw—to do on board a boat,
and you ’ll find you ’ll sleep more soundly wrapped up in a blanket with
a spare sail for a pillow than you do on your luxurious spring mattress
when at home. There are no organs at sea, and no street-cries to
worry you, and you are out of reach of creditors, and will not have
our breakfast spoiled by seeing in the Times that the girl you love
as married that beast Moneybagge after all, or that the senseless
British public has given further proof of its besotted imbecility by
refusing to see more than the first scene of your new play.
“ I see you frown, my Punch, and screw your lips up ominously; but
no, I’m not going to spin you a tremendously long yarn, and to
weary you and worry you with full details of our cruise. Yours is not a
sporting paper, I am very well aware; and if I wished to go the whole
log or none, I should of course more properly make application to Bell’s
Life or The Field. The only facts that will much interest you are, that
I have cashed the second cheque you sent me, and have been reluctantly
compelled to use your name in strengthening the money-from-the-bank-
extracting power of my own. My only other acts that you will deem
much worth your notice, or the notice of your readers, are that 1 sailed
across the English Channel four times in a week (a thing which has, I
fancy, not been done by many yachtsmen), and that in one of these four
trips I assisted in the capture of a Portuguese Man-of-War. As our
craft was but a cutter of three-and-twenty tons, and the only gun we
carried was a single-barrelled fowling-piece, there may be some ground
for wonder as to how this latter exploit was achieved; and when I
explain that the capture was effected with a bucket and a boat-hook, I
tear the explanation will serve little to diminish the surprise I may
have caused. Pact is fact, however, and I have witnesses to prove the
truth as I have stated it. Only I should add, before the Government
of Portugal seek reparation for the loss they think their navy has sus-
tained, they should ask of some sea-naturalist the meaning of Physalia,
which I believe to be a synonym for Portuguese Man-of-War.
“ Another^ novel circumstance connected with our cruise was that,
having carefully left all our charts at home, the only one we had to
steer by was the railway map of Bradshaw. By this we shaped our
course from Dover to Boulogne, and from Shoreham to Dieppe, and
had no more trouble in making both those ports, than has a wine
merchant in making with Marsala “nutty” sherries. As the fine old
song might say, but doesn’t:—
“ Bradshaw was our only Guide,
Across the swelling Channel Sea,
It told us even the time of tide,
And saved us many a pilot’s fee.”
“Travellers complain of Bradshaw, and say it sadly puzzles them; but
writing as a yachtsman I am sure that I have every reason to speak
well of it, and would say that its directions are remarkably plain-sailing
ones. Steering by Bradshaw is a novel sort of notion, but, now it has
been mentioned, its very novelty will doubtless serve to make it fashion-
able, and ere long some vocal yachtsman will no doubt be heard
asserting that—
“ I fear not but safely I ’ll sail to the shore,
I ’ve a Bradshaw to steer by, and what need I more ? ”
“ Being shut up in a prison with the chance of being drowned may
possibly to some Johnsonian-minded people not appear a very pleasant
way to spend a fortnight’s holiday. But we are not all Dr. Johnsons,
and to such of us as like the sea there are few things more health-
giving and enjoyable than yachting. Men to whom the Ellesmere
motto may seem applicable, and who when they go to sea are usually
Sic donee they put their feet on shore again, of course can’t much
appreciate the pleasures of a cruise, nor should I much desire to
have them for my shipmates. But to those who can enjoy it, a
month’s cruise in a yacht is a delightful way of travelling; and though
you can’t well sail through Switzerland, or get up Mont Blanc by water,
there are other foreign parts quite worth going by sea to see. There’s
nothing like a. breeze at sea to blow the smoke of London out of one :
and, in cruising about watering-places full of insect life, a yacht has
this advantage, that you take your own bed with you.
“ Only wishing, my dear Punch, that you would buy a decent yacht
that I might annually borrow it, I remain,
“ Yours all ataunto (whatever that means),
“ Nauticus.”
HOW TO SEE THE EXHIBITION IN TEN MINUTES.
“ My dear Punch, “ The Albany.
“I hate sensations, and I hate most of my fellow creatures,
and I hate trouble of all kinds. If there are any other folks who entertain
similar feelings, I think they will be as grateful to me—pooh, nobody is
grateful—but I think they ought to say I have done them a civil thing
in telling them that I have made the discovery announced in the heading
to this letter. There is a set of benevolent—at least nobody is bene-
volent—but there is a set of sensible people who call themselves the
Stereoscopic Company. They have taken photographs, capital ones, of
all that is worth seeing in Fowkeria, and you can just buy these and a
stereoscope, and in a few minutes you know all about the Exhibition,
and a good deal more than most people who have tried to see it. Then
there’s the delicious quiet, and you can look as long as you like at the
Venus or the Beading Girl, without being shoved, and without hearing the
various idiots, of all ranks, emitting their noises. You are not irritated
by the swell’s ‘Pon m’ word, not half bad,’ the artist’s ‘All! Now
that colour is not conscientious,’ the snob’s ‘ Spicy party that,’ or the
clown’s ‘ Be that Venice ? ’ And no abominable organs and bands, and
no bother about getting away—you lay down your stereoscope and you
are again in your arm-chair. You may print this, if you like, in the
light of a testimonial, and I don’t care whether you do or not.
“ Your Subscriber,
“ Antibabylon.”
The next Bun that is Wanted.—A Papal Bull’s Bun, with Pope
at the head of it.