“Release him with a ticket—he’ll be better then, no doubt, And tell him I apologize.” So MISTER WILLIAM’S out. I hope he will be careful in his manuscripts, I’m sure, And not begin experimentalizing any more. THE BUMBOAT WOMAN’S STORY. I’M old, my dears, and shrivelled with age, and work, and grief, My eyes are gone, and my teeth have been drawn by Time, the Thief! For terrible sights I’ve seen, and dangers great I’ve run— I’m nearly seventy now, and my work is almost done! Ah! I’ve been young in my time, and I’ve played the deuce with men! I’m speaking of ten years past—I was barely sixty then: My cheeks were mellow and soft, and my eyes were large and sweet, POLL PINEAPPLE’S eyes were the standing toast of the Royal Fleet! A bumboat woman was I, and I faithfully served the ships With apples and cakes, and fowls, and beer, and halfpenny dips, And beef for the generous mess, where the officers dine at nights, And fine fresh peppermint drops for the rollicking midshipmites. Of all the kind commanders who anchored in Portsmouth Bay, By far the sweetest of all was kind LIEUTENANT BELAYE.’ LIEUTENANT BELAYE commanded the gunboat _Hot Cross Bun_, She was seven and thirty feet in length, and she carried a gun. With a laudable view of enhancing his country’s naval pride, When people inquired her size, LIEUTENANT BELAYE replied, “Oh, my ship, my ship is the first of the Hundred and Seventy-ones!” Which meant her tonnage, but people imagined it meant her guns. Whenever I went on board he would beckon me down below, “Come down, Little Buttercup, come” (for he loved to call me so), And he’d tell of the fights at sea in which he’d taken a part, And so LIEUTENANT BELAYE won poor POLL PINEAPPLE’S heart! But at length his orders came, and he said one day, said he, “I’m ordered to sail with the _Hot Cross Bun_ to the German Sea.” And the Portsmouth maidens wept when they learnt the evil day, For every Portsmouth maid loved good LIEUTENANT BELAYE. And I went to a back back street, with plenty of cheap cheap shops, And I bought an oilskin hat and a second-hand suit of slops, And I went to LIEUTENANT BELAYE (and he never suspected _me_!) And I entered myself as a chap as wanted to go to sea. We sailed that afternoon at the mystic hour of one,— Remarkably nice young men were the crew of the _Hot Cross Bun_, I’m sorry to say that I’ve heard that sailors sometimes swear, But I never yet heard a _Bun_ say anything wrong, I declare. When Jack Tars meet, they meet with a “Messmate, ho! What cheer?” But here, on the _Hot Cross Bun_, it was “How do you do, my dear?” When Jack Tars growl, I believe they growl with a big big D— But the strongest oath of the _Hot Cross Buns_ was a mild “Dear me!”