He spoke--at least he tried; His position he altered; Then turn'd his face aside, And his deep-ton'd voice falter'd. She gazed upon the wave, Sublime she declared it; But no reply he gave-- He could not have dared it. A breeze came from the south, Across the billows sweeping; His heart was in his mouth, And out he thought 'twas leaping. "O, then, Steward," he cried, With the deepest emotion; Then tottered to the side, And leant o'er the ocean. The world may think him cold, But they'll pardon him with quickness, When the fact they shall be told, That he suffer'd from sea-sickness. * * * * * [Illustration: PUNCH'S ILLUSTRATIONS TO SHAKSPEARE "_Richmond_ is on the seas." _Richard III., Act iv., Scene 4._] * * * * * LECTURES ON YACHTING _By_ PROFESSOR AQUARIUS BRICK We were present when the accomplished Professor Brick recently delivered a series of lectures on yachting, which were very well attended. By his kind permission, we have preserved bits of the discourses here and there. We extract, _à discrétion_:-- "I come now," went on the Professor, "to your most important yachters--your genuine swells. Their cutters are in every harbour; you trace their wake by empty champagne bottles on every sea. To such dandy sea-kings I would now say one word. "About your choice of cruising ground you cannot have much difficulty. The Mediterranean is your proper spot. It is true that we will not tolerate its being made a French lake--its proper vocation is that of English pond! "I would advise you all to be very particular in not letting your 'skipper' have too much authority. Remember always, that _you are the owner_--high-spirited gentlemen do. Surely a man may sail his own yacht, if anybody may! It is as much his property as his horse is. To be sure, when the weather is very bad, I would let the fellow take charge then. There is a very odd difference between the Bay of Biscay and the water inside the Isle of Wight, when it blows. And a skipper _too much snubbed_ gets rusty at awkward times. "Your conduct in harbour will be regulated by circumstances--which means, dinners. Generally speaking, the fact of having a yacht will carry you everywhere. As every aëronaut is 'intrepid' by courtesy, so every yachtsman is a 'fashionable arrival.' This great truth is scarcely enough appreciated in England. I have known very worthy men spend in trying to get into great society in London, sums which, judiciously invested _in a yacht_, would have taken them to dozens of great people's houses abroad. You will get asked to dinner; you will be feasted well, generally. Anything in the way of excitement--particularly good, rich, hospitable excitement--is heartily welcome in our colonial settlements and stations.