She and I, Volume 1: A Love Story. A Life History.Hutcheson, John C. (John Conroy)
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She and I, Volume 1: A Love Story. A Life History.
Hutcheson, John C. (John Conroy)
Love stories
The anniversary of the fete this year, was celebrated with even grander
effect than any former ones had been, imposing and satisfactory though
they were held at the time to be. Richmond Park was the scene of our
festivities; and, not only had the vicar caused to be provided a couple
of roomy four-horse omnibuses, the leading one of which sported a band,
to accommodate the rank and file of the juveniles under the escort of
such of their mothers as could spare the time to accompany them; but,
those children who had particularly distinguished themselves during the
year for good conduct, were permitted to go in the gondola, in which we
oldsters proceeded, to the same destination by water. It was arranged
that the "'buses" should meet us at Richmond, where both descriptions of
conveyances were to disgorge their motley contents; and, the several and
hitherto-severed parties, joining issue, would set about making as
pleasant a day of it as could be effected under the circumstances.
A "gondola" seems at first sight an anachronism on the Thames; still, on
mature reflection, there does not appear to be any reason why we should
not indulge in this respect equally as well as the inhabitants of much-
idealised dirty Venice.
Whether you agree with me or not, however, I can tell you that there
_are_ gondolas to be seen on our great watery highway--heavy barges,
with bluff bows and fictitious awnings and problematical cushions, that
may be had on hire for the asking, at most of the principal boating
places along the banks from Chelsea to Chiswick.
On first starting, one missed the many romantic associations with which
the name of our floating vehicle was generally connected; yet,
suggestive fancy could readily supply their place with kindred ideas
culled from our more prosaic surroundings. We had, it is true, no
crimson-sashed, ragged, ballet-costumed gondolier to "ply the measured
oar;" because, in the first instance, we did not row up at all. We were
a trifle too wise in our generation to pull up the river in a lumbering
barge under a broiling sun, and fancy we were amusing ourselves! No, we
had a horse and a tow-rope; and, went on our way gaily without exertion!
Just you volunteer, for once, to row an excursion party up to
Richmond:--you'll enjoy it, I promise you! It is regular treadmill
work; see, if you won't afterwards think our plan the best, and adopt
it, too, or I'm no prophet, that's all!
Our gondolier "was not;" but the mounted jockey who bestrode our towing
horse _was_; and, in lieu of waking the echoes with choice extracts from
Tasso in the liquid Venesian or harsh, gritty Tuscan dialect, _he_
occasionally beguiled his monotonous jog-trot with a plaintive ballad,
in which he rehearsed the charms of a certain "Pretty little Sarah;" or
else, "made the welkin ring"--though what a "welkin" is, I have never
yet been able to discover--with repeated injunctions to his somewhat
lazy steed to "gee whup" and "gee wo!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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