"Tea or coffee?" "If you please," said I. "Oh, excuse me; coffee, ma'am." "Cream and sugar, Mr. Flutter?" "I'm not particular which, Mrs. Jones." "Do you take both?" she persisted, with everybody at the table looking my way. 66 No, ma'am, only coffee," said I, my face the colour of the beet pickles. She finally passed me a cup, and in my embarrassment, I immediately took a swallow and burnt my mouth. "Have you lost any friends lately?" asked that wretched Fred, seeing the tears in my eyes. I enjoyed that tea-party as geese enjoy pate de fois gras. It was a prolonged torment under the guise of pleasure. I refused everything I wanted, and took everything I didn't want. I got a back of the cold chicken; there was nothing on it but bone. I thought I must appear to be eating it; and it slipped out from under my fork and flew into the dish of preserved cherries. We had strawberries. I am very partial to strawberries and cream. I got a saucer of the berries, and was looking about for the cream when Miss Smith's mother, at my right hand, said :— “Mr. Flutter, will you have some whip with your strawberries?" Whip with my strawberries! I thought she was making fun of me, and stammered :— 66 No, I thank you," and so I lost the delicious frothed cream that I coveted. I was The agony of the thing was drawing to a close. longing for the time when I could go home and get some cold potatoes out of my mother's cupboard. I hadn't eaten worth a cent. I Pretty soon we all moved back our chairs and rose. offered my arm to Belle, as I supposed; and in passing through the little dark hall, I squeezed her hand, but on coming into the light, imagine my amazement at seeing that my partner was the widow Jones. I glanced wildly around in search of Belle; she was hanging on a young lawyer's arm, and not looking at me. "Now, you needn't colour up so," said the widow, coquettishly, “I know what young men are." She said it aloud, on purpose for Belle to hear. I felt like killing her. I might have done it, but one thought restrained me-I should be hung for murder, and I was too bashful to submit to so public an ordeal. I hurried across the room to get rid of her. There was a young fellow standing there who looked about as out-of-place as I felt I thought I would speak to him. "Come," said I, "let us take a little promenade outsidethe women are too much for me. He made no answer. I heard giggling and tittering breaking out all round the room, like rash on a baby with the measles. "Come on," said I; "like as not they're not laughing at us." "Look-a-here, you shouldn't speak to a fellow till you've been introduced," said that wicked Fred behind me. "Mr. Flutter, allow me to make you acquainted with Mr. Flutter. He's anxious to take a little walk with you." It was so; I had been talking to myself in a four-foot looking-glass. I did not feel like staying for the ice-cream and kissingplays, but had a sly hunt for my hat, and took leave of the tea-party about the eighth of a second afterward. Amusing Towing Incidents. (Adapted.) One sees a good many funny incidents up the river in connection with towing. One of the most common is the sight of a couple of towers, walking briskly along, deep in an animated discussion, while the man in the boat, a hundred yards behind them, is vainly shrieking to them to stop, and making frantic signs of distress with a scull. Something has gone wrong; the rudder has come off, or the boathook has slipped overboard, or his hat has dropped into the water and is floating rapidly down stream. He calls them to stop, quite gently and politely at first. "IIi! stop a minute, will you?" he shouts cheerily. "I've dropped my hat overboard." Then: "Hi! Tom-Dick! can't you hear?" not quite so affably this time. Then: "Hi! Confound you, you dunder-headed idiots! Hi! stop! Oh you - !" After that he springs up, and dances about, and roars himself red in the face, and curses everything he knows. And the small boys on the bank stop and jeer at him, and pitch stones at him as he is pulled along past them, at the rate of four miles an hour, and can't get out. Much of this sort of trouble would be saved if those who are towing would keep remembering that they are towing, and give a pretty frequent look round to see how their man is getting on. It is best to let one person tow. When two are doing it they get chattering, and forget, and the boat itself, offering, as it does, but little resistance, is of no real service in reminding thein of the fact. As an example of how utterly oblivious a pair of towers can be to their work, George told us, later on in the evening, when we were discussing the subject after supper, of a very curious instance. He and three other men, so he said, were sculling a very heavily laden boat up from Maidenhead one evening, and a little above Cookham lock they noticed a fellow and a girl, walking along the tow-path, both deep in an apparently interesting and absorbing conversation. They were carrying a boathook between them, and attached to the boat-hook was a towline, which trailed behind them, its end in the water. No boat was near, no boat was in sight. There must have been a boat attached to that tow-line at some time or other, that was certain; but what had become of it, what ghastly fate had overtaken it, and those who had been left in it, was buried in mystery. Whatever the accident may have been, however, it had in no way disturbed the young lady and gentleman who were towing. They had the boat-hook, and they had the line, and that seemed to be all that they thought necessary to their work. George was about to call out and wake them up, but, at that moment, a bright idea flashed across him, and he didn't. He got the hitcher instead, and reached over, and drew in the end of the tow-line; and they made a loop in it, and put it over their mast, and then they tidied up the sculls and went and sat down in the stern, and lit their pipes. And that young man and young woman towed those four hulking chaps and a heavy boat up to Marlow. George said he never saw so much thoughtful sadness concentrated into one glance before, as when, at the lock, that young couple grasped the idea that, for the last two miles, they had been towing the wrong boat. George fancied that, if it had not been for the restraining influence of the sweet woman at his side, the young man might have given way to violent language. The maiden was the first to recover from her surprise, and, when she did, she clasped her hands, and said, wildly: "Oh, Henry, then where is auntie?” "Did they ever recover the old lady?" asked Harris. George replied he did not know. Another example of the dangerous want of sympathy between tower and towed was witnessed by George and myself once up near Walton. It was where the tow-path shelves gently down into the water, and we were camping on the opposite bank, noticing things in general. By-and-by a small boat came in sight, towed through the water at a tremendous pace by a powerful barge horse, on which sat a very small boy. Scattered about the boat, in dreamy and reposeful attitudes, lay five fellows, the man who was steering having a particularly restful appearance. "I should like to see him pull the wrong line," murmured George, as they passed. And at that precise moment the man did it, and the boat rushed up the bank with a noise like the ripping up of forty thousand linen sheets. Two men, a hamper, and three oars inmediately left the boat on the larboard side, and reclined on the bank, and one and a half moments afterwards, two other men disembarked from the starboard, and sat down among boat-hooks and sails and carpet-bags and bottles. The last man went on twenty yards further, and then got out on his head. This seemed to sort of lighten the boat, and it went on much easier, the small boy shouting at the top of his voice, and urging his steed into a gallop. The fellows sat up and stared at one another. It was some seconds before they realised what had happened to them, but, when they did, they began to shout lustily for the boy to stop. He, however, was too much occupied with the horse to hear them, and we watched them flying after him, until the distance hid them from view. I cannot say I was sorry at their mishap. Indeed, I only wish that all the young fools who have their boats towed in this fashion-and plenty do-could meet with similar misfortunes. Besides the risk they run themselves, they become a danger and an annoyance to every other boat they pass. Going at the pace they do, it is impossible for them to get out of anybody else's way, or for anybody else to get out of theirs. Their line gets hitched across your mast, and overturns you, or it catches somebody in the boat, and either throws them into the water, or cuts their face open. The best plan is to stand your ground, and be prepared to keep them off with the butt-end of a mast. Of all experiences in connection with towing, the most exciting is being towed by girls. It is a sensation that nobody ought to miss. It takes three girls to tow always; two hold the rope, and the other one runs round and round, and giggles. They generally begin by getting themselves tied up. They get the line round their legs, and have to sit down on the path and undo each other, and then they twist it round their necks, and are nearly strangled. They fix it straight, however, at last, and start off at a run, pulling the boat along at quite a dangerous pace. At the end of a hundred yards they are naturally breathless, and suddenly stop, and all sit down on the grass and laugh, and your boat drifts out to mid-stream and turns round, before you know what has happened, or can get hold of a scull. Then they stand up, and are surprised. Oh, look!" they say, "he's gone right out into the middle." They pull on pretty steadily for a bit, after this, and then it all at once occurs to one of them that she will pin up her frock, and they ease up for the purpose, and the boat runs aground. 66 You jump up and push it off, and you shout to them not to stop. "Yes. What's the matter?" they shout back. "Don't stop," you roar. |