: Mr. Punch Afloat: The Humours of Boating and Sailing by Hammerton J A John Alexander Editor Tenniel John Illustrator - English wit and humor; English wit and humor Pictorial; Boats and boating Humor Humor

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LEST MEN FORGET;

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,

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 ; 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.

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!"

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