Punch, Or The London Charivari | Page 5

Lodging-letters!
While there we suffered severely from Regattas; which swarm in the
Island at this season, and are hotly pursued by the visitors, with the
deadly telescope. I myself was bitten once by the Regatta Bacteria, and
very painful it was. My friend, Baron VON HODGEMANN, owner of
the Anglesey, persuaded me to go on board for a race, and we travelled
the whole thirty miles sitting at an angle of forty-five degrees, and
singing the war-cry of the Royal Victoria Yacht Club!--
To the mast-head high we nail the Burge,[1] When the north wind
snores its dismal dirge! In the trough of the sea with a mighty splurge,
The quiv'ring Yacht beats down the surge, And weathers the Warner
Light!
This experience having inspired me with courage, I indulged in another
flight of daring which required all the aplomb of a leader of Fashion to
carry out successfully; and, though few of the "smart" Ladies of my set
habitually indulge in the habit. I am happy to think I am encouraging
them in a healthy and amusing pastime, which, in the Summer, may in
time even rival Lawn Tennis! However--not to beat about the bush any
longer--an utterly absurd expression this is!--as if it could hurt the bush
to beat it!--to say nothing of the difficulty of keeping a bush always
handy to beat!)--it is time I told you what this great achievement of

mine was--_I went paddling!_ There!--the secret is out!--the Fashion is
set!--the new Summer Amusement discovered! The Rules of the Game
are being written, and will shortly be published under the title,
"_Routledge's Etiquette of Paddling, for Ladies of Good Standing_." I
need hardly tell you that the first thing necessary is to find a secluded
bay, and it is also advisable to collect a few children to take with
you--(there are usually plenty left about on the beach from which you
can make a selection)--as a sort of excuse;--no other implements are
required for the game, in fact, superfluities are a nuisance and only get
wet--thus equipped--the game can be played with freedom--(not from
pebbles)--combined of course with propriety, and will be found
amusing and invigorating--(quotation from the preface to the Book of
Rules written by the eminent German Doctor, HERR
SPLASHENWASSER--inventor of the Water-Cure.
The next Race meeting requiring attention takes place at Doncaster this
week, and the most important race, I take it--at least, I don't take it--but
the winner will--another senseless expression--is naturally the St. Leger,
for which I make a poetic selection, which has cost me weeks of
anxious thought, no "leger" task!--(French joke)--owing to the number
of horses engaged, so few of which will run!
Yours devotedly, LADY GAY.
ST. LEGER SELECTION.
The best of the classic events of the year We are told by the students of
"form," Is a foregone conclusion, 'tis perfectly clear, For the noble
possessor of Orme.
[Footnote 1: This should really be Burgee, but then it wouldn't rhyme,
and a Poet may drop a syllable, if he or she mayn't drop an H!]
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE WOMAN THAT WAS!
_Monsieur le Maréchal_ (_who, during the Forties, was a dashing

young Military Attaché at, the French Embassy in London_). "AH,
DUCHESS, AND DO YOU REMEMBER ZE SO BEAUTIFUL
YOUNG LADY MARY GWENDOLEN VERE DE VERE, ZAT
EVERYBODY VENT MAD ABOUT VEN I VAS IN ENGLAND?
VEN I TINK OF 'ER, MY 'EARRT BEAT EVEN NOW!"
The Duchess (_née Mary Gwendolen Vere de Vere_). "OH YES,
MONSIEUR LE MARÉCHAL, I REMEMBER HER ONLY TOO
WELL!"
_M. le Maréchal._ "VAT 'AS BECAME OF 'ER, MADAME LA
DUCHESSE?"
Her Grace (_with a sigh_). "_ELLE N'EST PLUS!_"]
* * * * *
STUDIES IN THE NEW POETRY.
NO. V.
It may be objected that _Mr. Punch's_ fifth example does not strictly
conform to the canons laid down by him in his prefatory remarks to No.
I. _Mr. Punch_ neither admits nor denies the charge. He is convinced,
however, that those who do him the honour to read these Studies, might
justly complain if he failed to include in them an example of the work
of a Poet who has shown our generation how rusticity and rhymes,
cattle and Conservative convictions, peasants and patriotism, may be
combined in verse. It is scarcely necessary to add that the author of the
following magnificent piece is Mr. A-FR-D A-ST-N. Like others who
might be named, he has not the honour to be an agricultural labourer;
but no living man has sung at greater length of rural life, and its simple
joys. Many of his admirers have asserted that Britain ought to have
more than one Laureate, and that Mr. A-FR-D A-ST-N ought to be
among the number. Others are not prepared to go quite so far. They
have been heard