Flannels in moderation are pardonable, but they are slightly out of
place if you can't row and it rains.
The cuisine of a houseboat is not always limitless, so "chance" visitors
are sometimes more numerous than welcome.
The humours of burnt-cork minstrelsy must be tolerated during an aquatic
carnival, but it is as well to give street singers as wide a berth as
possible.
In the selection of guests for, say, _The Pearl of the North Pole_, or
_The Hushaby Baby_, it is as well to learn that none of them are cuts
with the others, and all are prepared to accept "roughing it" as the
order of the day.
Lanterns, music, and fireworks are extremely pretty things, but night
air on the river is sometimes an introduction to sciatica, rheumatism,
and chills.
In the selection of a costume, a lady should remember that it is good to
be "smart," but better still to be well.
Finally, it is desirable to bear in mind that, pleasant as riparian life
may be, Henley is, after all, a regatta, and that consequently some sort
of attention should be paid to the racing.
* * * * *
[Illustration: GASTRONOMERS AFLOAT
_Mrs. Fleshpottle._ "Well, I must say, Mrs. Gumblewag, I like something
substantial for _my_ dinner. Nothing, I think, can be better than some
pea-soup to begin with; then a biled leg of mutton with plenty of fat,
with turnips and caper sauce; then some tripe and onions, and one or two
nice suet dumplings as a finish!"
_Mrs. Gumblewag._ "For my part, mum, I prefer something more tasty and
flavoursome-like. Now, a well-cooked bullock's heart, to be followed by
some liver and bacon, and a dish of greens. Afterwards a jam bolster,
and a black pudding, and some toasted cheese to top up with, is what I
call a dinner fit for a----"
[_Mr. Doddlewig does not wait to hear any more!_
]
* * * * *