Well, we left the list to George, and he began it.
''We won't take a tent, suggested George; ''we will have a boat with a cover.
It is ever so much simpler, and more comfortable.''
It seemed a good thought, and we adopted it. I do not know whether you have ever
seen the thing I mean. You fix iron hoops up over the boat, and stretch a huge canvas
over them, and fasten it down all round, from stem to stern, and it converts the
boat into a sort of little house, and it is beautifully cosy, though a trifle stuffy;
but there, everything has its drawbacks, as the man said when his mother-in-law
died, and they came down upon him for the funeral expenses.
George said that in that case we must take a rug each, a lamp, some soap, a brush
and comb (between us), a toothbrush (each), a basin, some toothЦ powder, some shaving
tackle (sounds like a French exercise, doesn't it?), and a couple of big-towels
for bathing. I notice that people always make gigantic arrangements for bathing
when they are going anywhere near the water, but that they don't bathe much when
they are there.
It is the same when you go to the sea-side. I always determine Ц when thinking
over the matter in London Ц that I'll get up early every morning, and go and have
a dip before breakfast, and I religiously pack up a pair of drawers and a bath towel.
I always get red bathing drawers. I rather fancy myself in red drawers. They suit
my complexion so. But when I get to the sea I don't feel somehow that I want that
early morning bathe nearly so much as I did when I was in town.
On the contrary, I feel more that I want to stop in bed till the last moment,
and then come down and have my breakfast. Once or twice virtue has triumphed, and
I have got out at six and half-dressed myself, and have taken my drawers and towel,
and stumbled dismally off. But I haven't enjoyed it. They seem to keep a specially
cutting east wind, waiting for me, when I go to bathe in the early morning; and
they pick out all the three-cornered stones, and put them on the top, and they sharpen
up the rocks and cover the points over with a bit of sand so that I can't see them,
and they take the sea and put it two miles out, so that I have to huddle myself
up in my arms and hop, shivering, through six inches of water. And when I do get
to the sea, it is rough and quite insulting.
One huge wave catches me up and chucks me in a sitting posture, as hard as ever
it can, down on to a rock which has been put there for me. And, before I've said
''Oh! Ugh!'' and found out what has gone, the wave comes back and carries me out
to mid-ocean. I begin to strike out frantically for the shore, and wonder if I shall
ever see home and friends again, and wish I'd been kinder to my little sister when
a boy (when I was a boy, I mean). Just when I have given up all hope, a wave retires
and leaves me sprawling like a star-fish on the sand, and I get up and look back
and find that I've been swimming for my life in two feet of water. I hop back and
dress, and crawl home, where I have to pretend I liked it.
In the present instance, we all talked as if we were going to have a long swim
George said it was so pleasant to wake up in the boat in the fresh morning, and
plunge into the limpid river. Harris said there was nothing like a swim before breakfast
to give you an appetite. He said it always gave him an appetite. George said that
if it was going to make Harris eat more than Harris ordinarily ate, then he should
protest against Harris having a bath at all.
He said there would be quite enough hard work in towing sufficient food for Harris
up against stream, as it was.
I urged upon George, however, how much pleasanter it would be to have Harris
clean and fresh about the boat, even if we did have to take a few more hundredweight
of provisions; and he got to see it in my light, and withdrew his opposition to
Agreed, finally, that we should take THREE bath towels, so as not to keep each
For clothes, George said two suits of flannel would be sufficient, as we could
wash them ourselves, in the river, when they got dirty. We asked him if he had ever
tried washing flannels in the river, and he replied: ''No, not exactly himself like;
but he knew some fellows who had, and it was easy enough;'' and Harris and I were
weak enough to fancy he knew what he was talking about, and that three respectable
young men, without position or influence, and with no experience in washing, could
really clean their own shirts and trousers in the river Thames with a bit of soap.
We were to learn in the days to come, when it was too late, that George was a
miserable impostor, who could evidently have known nothing whatever about the matter.
If you had seen these clothes after Ц but, as the shilling shockers say, we anticipate.
George impressed upon us to take a change of under-things and plenty of socks,
in case we got upset and wanted a change; also plenty of handkerchiefs, as they
would do to wipe things, and a pair of leather boots as well as our boating shoes,
as we should want them if we got upset.
THE FOOD QUESTION. Ц OBJECTIONS TO PARAFFINE OIL AS AN ATMOSPHERE. Ц ADVANTAGES
OF CHEESE AS A TRAVELLING COMPANION. Ц A MARRIED WOMAN DESERTS HER HOME. Ц FURTHER
PROVISION FOR GETTING UPSET. Ц I PACK. Ц CUSSEDNESS OF TOOTH-BRUSHES. Ц GEORGE AND
HARRIS PACK. Ц AWFUL BEHAVIOUR OF MONTMORENCY. Ц WE RETIRE TO REST.
THEN we discussed the food question. George said:
''Begin with breakfast.'' (George is so practical.) ''Now for breakfast we shall
want a frying-pan'' Ц (Harris said it was indigestible; but we merely urged him
not to be an ass, and George went on) Ц ''a tea-pot and a kettle, and a methylated
''No oil,'' said George, with a significant look; and Harris and I agreed.
We had taken up an oil-stove once, but ''never again.'' It had been like living
in an oil-shop that week. It oozed. I never saw such a thing as paraffine oil is
to ooze. We kept it in the nose of the boat, and, from there, it oozed down to the
rudder, impregnating the whole boat and everything in it on its way, and it oozed
over the river, and saturated the scenery and spoilt the atmosphere. Sometimes a
westerly oily wind blew, and at other times an easterly oily wind, and sometimes
it blew a northerly oily wind, and maybe a southerly oily wind; but whether it came
from the Arctic snows, or was raised in the waste of the desert sands, it came alike
to us laden with the fragrance of paraffine oil.
And that oil oozed up and ruined the sunset; and as for the moonbeams, they positively
reeked of paraffine.
We tried to get away from it at Marlow. We left the boat by the bridge, and took
a walk through the town to escape it, but it followed us. The whole town was full
of oil. We passed through the church-yard, and it seemed as if the people had been
buried in oil. The High Street stunk of oil; we wondered how people could live in
it. And we walked miles upon miles out Birmingham way; but it was no use, the country
was steeped in oil.
At the end of that trip we met together at midnight in a lonely field, under
a blasted oak, and took an awful oath (we had been swearing for a whole week about
the thing in an ordinary, middle-class way, but this was a swell affair) Ц an awful
oath never to take paraffine oil with us in a boat again-except, of course, in case
Therefore, in the present instance, we confined ourselves to methylated spirit.
Even that is bad enough. You get methylated pie and methylated cake. But methylated
spirit is more wholesome when taken into the system in large quantities than paraffine
For other breakfast things, George suggested eggs and bacon, which were easy
to cook, cold meat, tea, bread and butter, and jam. For lunch, he said, we could
have biscuits, cold meat, bread and butter, and jam Ц but NO CHEESE. Cheese, like
oil, makes too much of itself. It wants the whole boat to itself. It goes through
the hamper, and gives a cheesy flavour to everything else there. You can't tell
whether you are eating apple-pie or German sausage, or strawberries and cream. It
all seems cheese. There is too much odour about cheese.
I remember a friend of mine, buying a couple of cheeses at Liverpool. Splendid
cheeses they were, ripe and mellow, and with a two hundred horse-power scent about
them that might have been warranted to carry three miles, and knock a man over at
two hundred yards. I was in Liverpool at the time, and my friend said that if I
didn't mind he would get me to take them back with me to London, as he should not
be coming up for a day or two himself, and he did not think the cheeses ought to
be kept much longer.
''Oh, with pleasure, dear boy,'' I replied, ''with pleasure.''
I called for the cheeses, and took them away in a cab. It was a ramshackle affair,
dragged along by a knock-kneed, broken-winded somnambulist, which his owner, in
a moment of enthusiasm, during conversation, referred to as a horse. I put the cheeses
on the top, and we started off at a shamble that would have done credit to the swiftest
steam-roller ever built, and all went merry as a funeral bell, until we turned the
corner. There, the wind carried a whiff from the cheeses full on to our steed. It
woke him up, and, with a snort of terror, he dashed off at three miles an hour.
The wind still blew in his direction, and before we reached the end of the street
he was laying himself out at the rate of nearly four miles an hour, leaving the
cripples and stout old ladies simply nowhere.
It took two porters as well as the driver to hold him in at the station; and
I do not think they would have done it, even then, had not one of the men had the
presence of mind to put a handkerchief over his nose, and to light a bit of brown
I took my ticket, and marched proudly up the platform, with my cheeses, the people
falling back respectfully on either side. The train was crowded, and I had to get
into a carriage where there were already seven other people. One crusty old gentleman
objected, but I got in, notwithstanding; and, putting my cheeses upon the rack,
squeezed down with a pleasant smile, and said it was a warm day.
A few moments passed, and then the old gentleman began to fidget.
''Very close in here,'' he said.
''Quite oppressive,'' said the man next him.
And then they both began sniffing, and, at the third sniff, they caught it right
on the chest, and rose up without another word and went out. And then a stout lady
got up, and said it was disgraceful that a respectable married woman should be harried
about in this way, and gathered up a bag and eight parcels and went. The remaining
four passengers sat on for a while, until a solemn-looking man in the corner, who,
from his dress and general appearance, seemed to belong to the undertaker class,
said it put him in mind of dead baby; and the other three passengers tried to get
out of the door at the same time, and hurt themselves.
I smiled at the black gentleman, and said I thought we were going to have the
carriage to ourselves; and he laughed pleasantly, and said that some people made
such a fuss over a little thing. But even he grew strangely depressed after we had
started, and so, when we reached Crewe, I asked him to come and have a drink. He
accepted, and we forced our way into the buffet, where we yelled, and stamped, and
waved our umbrellas for a quarter of an hour; and then a young lady came, and asked
us if we wanted anything.
''What's yours?'' I said, turning to my friend.
''I'll have half-a-crown's worth of brandy, neat, if you please, miss,'' he responded.
And he went off quietly after he had drunk it and got into another carriage,
which I thought mean.
From Crewe I had the compartment to myself, though the train was crowded. As
we drew up at the different stations, the people, seeing my empty carriage, would
rush for it. ''Here y' are, Maria; come along, plenty of room.'' ''All right, Tom;
we'll get in here,'' they would shout. And they would run along, carrying heavy
bags, and fight round the door to get in first. And one would open the door and
mount the steps, and stagger back into the arms of the man behind him; and they
would all come and have a sniff, and then droop off and squeeze into other carriages,
or pay the difference and go first.
From Euston, I took the cheeses down to my friend's house. When his wife came
into the room she smelt round for an instant. Then she said:
''What is it? Tell me the worst.''
''It's cheeses. Tom bought them in Liverpool, and asked me to bring them up with
And I added that I hoped she understood that it had nothing to do with me; and
she said that she was sure of that, but that she would speak to Tom about it when
he came back.
My friend was detained in Liverpool longer than he expected; and, three days
later, as he hadn't returned home, his wife called on me. She said:
''What did Tom say about those cheeses?''
I replied that he had directed they were to be kept in a moist place, and that
nobody was to touch them.
''Nobody's likely to touch them. Had he smelt them?''
I thought he had, and added that he seemed greatly attached
''You think he would be upset,'' she queried, ''if I gave a man a sovereign to
take them away and bury them?''
I answered that I thought he would never smile again.
An idea struck her. She said:
''Do you mind keeping them for him? Let me send them round to you.''
''Madam,'' I replied, ''for myself I like the smell of cheese, and the journey
the other day with them from Liverpool I shall ever look back upon as a happy ending
to a pleasant holiday. But, in this world, we must consider others. The lady under
whose roof I have the honour of residing is a widow, and, for all I know, possibly
an orphan too. She has a strong, I may say an eloquent, objection to being what
she terms `put upon.' The presence of your husband's cheeses in her house she would,
I instinctively feel, regard as a `put upon'; and it shall never be said that I
put upon the widow and the orphan.''