PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 102. April 9th, 1892. BOAT-RACE DAY. _The Reader will kindly imagine that he has crossed Hammersmith Bridge, and is being carried along by a jostling stream of sightseers towards Mortlake. The banks are already occupied--although it still wants half an hour to the time fixed for the start--by a triple row of the more patient and prudent spectators. On the left of the path, various more or less_ Shady Characters _have established their "pitches," and are doing their best to beguile the unsophisticated._ _First Shady Character_ (_presiding over a particoloured roulette board with a revolving and not unmanageable index_). Three to one any colour you like! Fairest game in the world! I'm a backin' I'm a layin'.... Pop it on, you sportsmen! (_Two_ Sportsmen--_a couple of shop-boys_--"_pop it on_," _in coppers_.) Yaller was your colour--and it _is_ a yaller cap, sure enough! _I_'m a payin' this time. Try it again! (_They do._) Blue's your fancy this turn, my lord. And green it _is_! Good ole Hireland for ever! Twenty can play at this game as well as one! Don't be afraid o' yer luck--'ave another go. _Red_ did you put your coppers on? And it's _yaller_ again--and _you _ lose! (_The_ Sportsmen _pass on--with empty pockets_.) Fairest game _in_ the world! _Second S.C._ (_who has been conducting a Confidence Auction from a barrow and egg-box_). Well, I 'ope you're all satisfied, and if you ain't --(_candidly_)--it don't make no bloomin' difference to me, for I'm orf--these premises is comin' down fur alterations. [_He gets off the barrow, shoulders the egg-box, and departs in search of fresh dupes._