And have you not read of eight jolly young watermaids, Lately at Cookham accustomed to ply And feather their oars with a deal of dexterity, Pleasing the critical masculine eye? They swing so truly and pull so steadily, Multitudes flock to the river-side readily;-- It's not the eighth wonder that all the world's there, But this watermaid eight, ne'er in want of a stare. What sights of white costumes! What ties and what hatbands, "Leander cerise!" We don't wish to offend, But are these first thoughts with the dashing young women Who don't dash too much in a spurt off Bourne End? Mere nonsense, of course! There's no "giggling and leering"-- Complete ruination to rowing and steering;-- "All eyes in the boat" is their coach's first care, And "a spin of twelve miles" is as naught to the fair. * * * * * [Illustration: GOOD RESOLUTIONS _Blenkinsop (on a friend's Yacht) soliloquises._ "I know one thing, if ever I'm rich enough to keep a yacht, I shall spend the money in horses."] * * * * * ECHOES FROM THE THAMES SCENE--_Houseboat in a good position._ TIME--_Evening during "the Regatta week._" PRESENT (_on deck in cozy chairs_)--_He and She._ _She._ Very pretty, the lights, are they not? _He._ Perfectly charming. So nice after the heat. _She._ Yes, and really, everything has been delightful. _He._ Couldn't possibly be better. Wonderful how well it can be done. _She._ Yes. But, of course, it wants management. You know a lot comes down from town. _He._ Will the stores send so far? _She._ Yes, and if they won't others will. And then the local tradespeople are very obliging. _He._ But don't the servants rather kick at it? _She._ No, because they are comfortable enough. Put them up in the neighbourhood. _He._ Ah, to be sure. And your brother looks after the cellar so well. _She._ Yes, he is quite a genius in that line. _He._ And it's awfully nice chatting all day. _She._ Yes, when one doesn't go to sleep. _He._ And, of course, we can fall back upon the circulating libraries and the newspapers. _She._ And so much better than town. It must be absolutely ghastly in Piccadilly. _He._ Yes, so I hear. And then there's the racing! _She._ Ah, to be sure. To tell the truth, I didn't notice that very much. Was there any winning? _He._ Oh, yes, a lot. But I really quite forget what---- _She._ Oh, never mind. We can read all about it in to-morrow's papers, and that will be better than bothering about it now. [_Scene closes in to soft music on the banjo._ * * * * * [Illustration: AT HENLEY--"IPSE DIXIT" ["For a mile and a half the river was covered with elegant craft, in which youth was always at the prow and pleasure always at the helm."--_Daily Paper._] ] * * * * * "THE SAILORMAN'S MENOO" (_To a Shipowner. By a Shell-back_)