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PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR

Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON

Designed to provide in a series ofvolumes, each complete in itself,the cream of our national humour,contributed by the masters of comicdraughtsmanship and the leading witsof the age to "Punch," from itsbeginning in 1841 to the present day."MR. PUNCH AFLOAT"

MR PUNCH AFLOAT

AS PICTURED BYSIR 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.

THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR

MR. PUNCH AT THE HELM!

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 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.

'ARRY ON THE RIVER

Dear 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.

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.

'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.

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,'Arry.MAKING THE BEST OF ITHINTS TO BEGINNERSIn punting, a good strong pole is to be recommended to the beginner.THE RETURN OF THE WANDERERCustom House Officer (to sufferer). "Now, sir, will you kindly pick out your luggage? It's got to be examined before you land."OUR YACHTING EXPERIENCESOld "Salt" at the helm. "Rattlin' fine breeze, gen'lemen."Chorus of Yachtsmen (faintly). "Y—yes—d'lightful!"

TO PYRRHA ON THE THAMES

O 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!"LIFE'S LITTLE IRONIES"(Cheerful passage in the life of a Whitsuntide Holiday maker)

MY RIVERSIDE ADWENTUR

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.

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 mine, and thank'd me, and wended

Her way from the river's brite sands.

And from that day to this tho I've stayed,

I've entirely failed to diskever

The name of that brite dairy-maid

As broke thirteen eggs by the river.

Robert.LOCKS ON THE THAMESSculler. "Just half a turn of the head, love, or we shall be among the rushes!"THE STEAMEROld Mr. Squeamish, who has been on deck for his wrapper, finds his comfortable place occupied by a hairy mossoo!

OTHERWISE ENGAGED!

And so they sat in the boat and looked into one another's eyes, and found much to read in them. They ignored the presence of the houseboats, and scarcely remembered that there were such things as launches propelled by steam or electricity. And they turned deaf ears to the niggers, and did not want their fortunes told by dirty females of a gipsy type.

"This is very pleasant," said Edwin.

"Isn't it?" replied Angelina; "and it's such a good place for seeing all the events."

"Admirable!" and they talked of other things; and the time sped on, and the dark shadows grew, and still they talked, and talked, and talked.

At length the lanterns on the river began to glow, and Henley put on its best appearance, and broke out violently into fireworks. It was then Mrs. Grundy spied them out. She had been on the look out for scandal all day long, but could find none. This seemed a pleasant and promising case.

"So you are here!" she exclaimed. "Why, we thought you must have gone long ago! And what do you say of the meeting?"

"A most perfect success," said he.

"And the company?"

"Could not be more charming," was her reply.

"And what did you think of the racing?" Then they looked at one another and smiled. They spoke together, and observed:—

"Oh, we did not think of the racing!"

And Mrs. Grundy was not altogether satisfied.OVERHEARD ON AN ATLANTIC LINERShe (on her first trip to Europe). "I guess you like London?"He. "Why, yes. I guess I know most people in London. I was over there last fall!""VIDE UT SUPRA""The sad sea waves"

LEST MEN FORGET;

  [This is to be a river season. Father Thames is an excellent matchmaker.—Lady's Pictorial.]

Oh, what is a maid to do

When never a swain will woo;

When Viennese dresses

And eddying tresses

And eyes of a heavenly blue,

Are treated with high disdain

By the cold and the careless swain,

When soft showered glances

At dinners and dances

Are sadly but truly vain?

Ah, then, must a maid despair?

Ah, no, but betimes repair

With her magical tresses

And summery dresses

To upper Thames reaches, where

She turns her wan cheek to the sun

(Of lesser swains she will none);

Her glorious flame,

Well skilled in the game,

Flings kisses that burn like fun

And cheeks that had lost their charm

Grow rosy and soft and warm;

Eyes lately so dull

Of sun-light are full

As masculine hearts with alarm.

For jealousy by degrees

Steals over the swain who sees

The cheek he was slighting

Another delighting,

And so he is brought to his knees.AT THE UNIVERSITY BOAT-RACEExtract from Miss X's letter to a friend in the country:—"Mr. Robin Blobbs offered to take us in his boat. Aunt accepted for Jenny, Fanny, Ethel, little Mary, and myself. Oh, such a time! Mr. Blobbs lost his head and his scull, and we were just rescued from upset by the police. 'Never again with you, Robin!'"

THE AMATEUR YACHTSMAN

I'm bad when at sea, yet it's pleasant to me

To charter a yacht and go sailing,

But please understand I ne'er lose sight of land,

Though hardier sailors are railing.

If only the ship, that's the yacht, wouldn't dip,

And heel up and down and roll over,

And wobble about till I want to get out,

I'd think myself fairly in clover.

But, bless you! my craft, though the wind is abaft,

Will stagger when meeting the ripple,

Until a man feels both his head and his heels

Reversed as if full of his tipple.

In vain my blue serge when from seas we emerge,

Though dressed as a nautical dandy;

I can't keep my legs, and I call out for "pegs"

Of rum, or of soda and brandy.

A yacht is a thing, they say, fit for a king,

And still it is not to my liking;

My short pedigree does not smack of the sea,—

I can't pose a bit like a viking.

It's all very well when there isn't a swell,

But when that comes on I must toddle

And go down below, for a bit of a blow

Upsets my un-nautical noddle.

Britannia may rule her own waves,—I'm a fool

To try the same game, but, believe me,

Though catching it hot, yet to give up my "Yot"

Would certainly terribly grieve me.

You see, it's the rage, like the Amateur Stage,

Or Coaching, Lawn-Tennis, or Hunting:

So, though I'm so queer, I go yachting each year,

And hoist on the Solent my bunting.A Henley Toast.—"May rivals meet without any sculls being broken!"Of Course!—The very place for a fowl—Henley!The Journal which evidently keeps the Key of the River.—The Lock to Lock Times.OF MALICE AFORETHOUGHTCheery Official. "All first class 'ere, please?"Degenerate Son of the Vikings (in a feeble voice). "First class? Now do I look it?""LIFE ON THE OCEAN WAVE"Next to the charming society, the best of the delightful trips on our friend's yacht is, that you get such an admirable view of the coast

scenery, and you acquire such an excellent appetite for lunch.

ROBERT ON THE RIVER

It was ony a week or so ago as I was engaged perfeshnally on board a steam Yot that had been hired for about as jolly a party as I ewer remembers to have had on board a ship, and the Forreners among 'em had ewidently been brort for to see what a reel lovely River the Tems is. I must say I was glad to get away from Town, as I 'ad 'ad a shock from seeing a something dreadful on an old showcard outside of the Upraw which they tells me is now given up to Promenades. So we started from Skindel's, at Madenhed Bridge, and took 'em right up to Gentlemanly Marlow, and on to old Meddenham, and then to Henley, and lots of other butiful places, and then back to Skindel's to dinner. And a jolly nice little dinner they guv us, and sum werry good wine, as our most critical gests—and we had two Corporation gents among 'em—couldn't find not no fault with. But there's sum peeple as it ain't not of no use to try to sattisfy with butiful seenery—at least, not if they bees Amerrycains. They don't seem not to have the werry least hadmiration or respect for anythink as isn't werry big, and prefur size to buty any day of the week.

"Well, it's a nice-looking little stream enuff," says an Amerrycain, who was a board a grinnin; "but it's really quite a joke to call it a River. Why, in my country," says he, "if you asked me for to show you a River, I should take you to Mrs. Sippy's, and when we got about harf way across it, I guess you'd see a reel River then, for it's so wide that you carn't see the land on either side of it, so you sees nothink else but the River, and as that's what you wanted for to see, you carn't werry well grumble then." I shood, most suttenly, have liked for to have asked him, what sort of Locks they had in sitch a River as that, and whether Mrs. Sippy cort many wales when she went out for a day's fishing in that little River of hers, but I knows my place, and never asks inconvenient questions.

However, he was a smart sort of feller, and had 'em I must say werry nicely indeed a few minutes arterwards. We was a passing a werry butiful bit of the river called a Back Water, and he says, says he, "As it's so preshus hot in the sun, why don't we run in there and enjoy the shade for a time, while we have our lunch?" "Oh," says one of the marsters of the feast, "we are not allowed to go there; that's privet, that is." "Why how can that be?" says he, "when you told me, just now, as you'd lately got a Hact of Parliament passed which said that wherever Tems Water flowed it was open to all the world, as of course it ort to be." "Ah," said the other, looking rayther foolish, "but this is one of the xceptions, for there's another claws in the hact as says that wherever any body has had a hobstruction in the River for 20 years it belongs to him for hever, but he musn't make another nowheres."

The Amerrycain grinned as before, and said, "Well, I allers said as you was about the rummiest lot of people on the face of the airth, and this is on'y another proof of it. You are so werry fond of everythink as is old, that if a man can show as he has had a cussed noosance for twenty years, he may keep it coz he's had it so long, while all sensible peeple must think, as that's one more reeson for sweeping the noosance clean away." And I must say, tho he was a Amerrycane, that I coodn't help thinking as he was right.

It's estonishing what a remarkabel fine happy-tight a run on the butiful Tems seems to give heverybody, and wot an adwantage we has in that partickler respect over the poor Amerycans who gos for a trip on Mrs. Sippy's big River, with the wind a bloing like great guns, and the waves a dashing mountings hi. But on our butiful little steamer on our luvly little river, altho the gests had most suttenly all brekfasted afore they cum, why we hadn't started much about half-a-nour, afore three or fore on 'em came creeping down into the tite little cabin and asking for jest a cup of tea and a hegg or two, and a few shrimps; and, in less than a nour arterwards, harf a duzzen more on 'em had jest a glass or two of wine and a sandwich, and all a arsking that most important of all questions on bord a Tems Yot, "What time do we lunch?" And by 2 a clock sharp they was all seated at it, and pegging away at the Sammon and the pidgin pie, het settera, as if they was harf-starved, and ewen arter that, the butiful desert and the fine old Port Wine was left upon the table, and I can troothfully state that the cabin was never wunce quite empty till we was again doing full justice to Mr. Skindel's maynoo.Robert.The Universal Motto at Henley.—Open houseboat."EXEMPLI GRATIA"Ancient Mariner (to credulous yachtsman). "A'miral Lord Nelson! Bless yer, I knowed him; served under him. Many's the time I've as'ed him for a bit o' 'bacco, as I might be a astin' o' you; and says he, 'Well, I ain't got no 'bacco,' jest as you might say to me; 'but here's a shillin' for yer,' says he"!!ABOVE BRIDGE BOAT AGROUND OFF CHISWICKGallant Member of the L.R.C. "Can I put you ashore, mum?""IT'S AN ILL WIND," &c.Rescuer. "Hold on a bit! I may never get a chance like this again!"HAPPY THOUGHT.—DAVID COX REDIVIVUS!

BO'SEN JAMES AND THE GREAT SEA-SARPINT

Three bold sailormen all went a-sailin'

Out into the Northern Sea,

And they steered Nor'-West by three quarters West

Till they came to Norwegee.

They was three bold men as ever you'd see,

And these was their Christian names:

There was Long-legged Bill and Curly Dick,

And the third was Bo'sen James;—

And they went to catch the Great Sea-Sarpint,

Which they wished for to stop his games.

Long-legged Bill was in the main-top a-watchin'

For Sea-Sarpints, starn and grim,

When through the lee-scupper bold Curly Dick peeped,

And he says, says he, "That's him"!

Then quick down the rattlins the long-legged 'un slid—

Which pale as a shrimp was he—

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