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"JUNKETING;" OR OLD MIDSUMMER DAY.

BY A "LAZY'UN."

It is not often that the weather is obliging enough to keep the almanac in countenance. Sometimes for the dog-days we have " dog and cat days," in the shape of down pours of rain, and for " very hot" we some

times have weather like Christmas.

It would not do to dress according to the calendar. Indeed, weather wisdom has rather gone out of vogue since Mr. Murphy's time. This year Old Midsummer Day was what it should be, a regular sweltering coup de soleil day, with the thermometer at "any thing you like to call it," in the shade.

London is a capital place, except in fogs, or "werry ot" days. In them one is better any where else. I don't know why, for I was not aware that it was Old Midsummer Day, but I thought in dressing that it was going to be fine, an opinion that was speedily confirmed by a total prostration of appetite at breakfast, and a marked repugnance to a proximity to the tea-kettle. You know what it is, I dare say, to be hissed and steamed at when you can hardly bear the heat of a candle to seal a letter or the very name of a hot bun.

"Take away that bauble," said I to the astonished damsel, who had never heard the kettle called by that name before; "take away that bauble," said I, filling the tea-pot up at one go, and forthwith she whipped away my snuff-box.

There is an old saying, and a remarkably true one, that you may take a horse to the water but you can't make him drink, and the same stout aphorism holds good with regard to individuals and their wittles. It's no use trying to get hot tea, dry toast, and questionable eggs down your "no." inclination your

throat when

says

Still less to the purpose is it taking the mind to business when it has determined not to work. There are some days, generally very fine ones, when it is next to impossible to settle to do any thing. You feel as if you ought to be idle-roving in the country-swinging on a gate-whistling on a style-any thing rather than high stooling it.

Having arrayed myself in my Cashmere coat and waistcoat, articles that, according to the usual range of English summers, are well calculated to last for ever, having arrayed myself in these, I say, with a pair of new nankins, fresh from the trouser-man's, with a pair of reasonable shoes, neither too strong nor too thin, I set off for my-never mind what-place of business, with a strong impression that I should not do much.

Every thing looked dingier, dustier, and nastier than usual. The very letters were shorter and dryer, as though their contents had shrunk on the way. After hanging about for an hour or two with my hat on, a sure sign of an uneasy spirit, I thought I would slip along to Tom Tripper's and see what he was after.

Tom was in his hat, too, sitting at his desk poring over the Supplement of the Times. He, too, thought it hot; indeed his hand gave convincing proof of the fact, and he kept yawning as if he was not altogether the thing. Sam Baskett dropped in just at the same moment, and we all began talking of the heat of the weather.

"Suppose we take a trip up to Richmond or Hampton," said Baskett, "and get cooled on the river?"

"Quite agreeable," said Tripper. "What say you ?" turning to me. "Ditto," said I.

"He looks more like down the river to the Junk, in those fine ' nankins,' observed Tripper.

"Faith, let's go to the Junk," said Baskett; "I've not seen it." "Nor I," said Tripper.

"Ditto," said I.

People who live in London-for no one ever allowed himself a "Londoner born"-people who live in London are seldom much of sight-seers, certainly not inquirers after what is to be seen; and from the days of the living skeleton, including the Siamese twins, the whole range, indeed, down to Tom Thumb, I have never been to any of them; I always waited for uncle Bill, or cousin Jack, or somebody coming from the country, who would want to go, but who it happened never came. The Chinese exhibition at Hyde Park, and Madame Tussaud, are about the only two evanescent exhibitions, if I may use such a term in contradistinction to St. Paul's, the Tower, Westminster Abbey, &c., that I have visited.

I had heard of the Junk in that casual dinner-party sort of way that one hears of the weather or any other safe subject, but beyond knowing that it had come from China, and that Her Majesty and Prince Albert had been to see it, I was perfectly innocent of all how and about it, save a vague rumour or idea-got I don't where-that it was the veritable craft of some enterprising John Chinamen, whose curiosity had tempted them to see the "barbarian eye" in his native wilds. In this I was partly confirmed in our voyage down, by hearing an uncommon swell, in cane-coloured moustache and little bits of lacquered toes to his lavender-coloured boots, that being somewhat unmanageable in the high sea, she had got scrambled over to America by mistake, instead of reaching England as designed. My ideas, therefore, pictured something like what one sees on a willow-pattern plate, stranded at Blackwall, undergoing repairs, only I did not expect to find the Chinamen sporting their heads backwards, as shown in the same veracious authority, the willow-pattern plate.

It was a blistering hot day; all London seemed to make for the Thames just as cows make for the water, crowded steam-boats hissed and hurried to and fro, large colliers lay nodding in the pool, as though coals would never be wanted again. What a wonderful sight down river presents! what enterprise! what hammering! what slanging! what warehouses! what lettering! what brawney arms! what bridges! what sunburnt faces! What a contrast to the lazy, listless, fine parasol sort of air of a voyage to Richmond or Hampton. Not but that there were a good many "upper crust folks," as Sam Slick calls them, taking their sixpennorth of steam downwards, but they were easily distinguishable from the common business passengers by the splendour of their attire and the exclusive noli me tangere sort of air with which they repelled the approach of the common herd.

Thus we proceeded by short and easy stages down the river, calling at endless piers, oppressed by the sun and the music of a couple of very moderate musicians.

I don't know how it was, but the ticket-taker thought we were

Junketers, and when the boat stopped at the High Pier, near the Old Plough Tavern, at Blackwall, he said he stopped again below, which would be nearer the Junk. Accordingly we remained on board, and were set down at the fine pier at the Blackwall Railway station, a convenience, considering the extreme heat of the day.

People who use their eyes and ears freely have seldom much need to use their tongues, and the first thing that struck us on landing was a large yellow bill against a board with the words CHINESE JUNK, in great capitals, with an intimation at the bottom that tickets might be had at the railway station. This was the first hint that the thing was not open to all and influenced by none. Turning the east corner of the station we saw the tips of two high ends of the vessel, with a variety of coloured flags floating at each, and also a high mast with a long streamer, the whole surrounded by a high hoarding, towards which a continuous line of most aristocratic looking company were flirting, and ogling, and squaring, and sauntering in all the plenitude of thorough listlessness and indolence. The hoarding round the vessel was placed sufficiently high to excite curiosity without gratifying it; you saw there was something extraordinary, though what it was you couldn't tell. "Nothing for nothing" being so much the motto of England, my companions put their hands mechanically into their pockets as they approached, even before they read the ominous words "PAY HERE," above a little pigeon-hole in the hoarding, though I could not help thinking that if my Lord Yarborough, or any of the members of the Yacht Club were laid high and dry in a foreign land, they would hardly exact tribute from the natives for seeing their vessel.

"Oh, it'll be the chap's doing who has the repairs," observed Baskett, who knew no more about the matter than I did

"Two shillings," said the face in the pillory, as we approached.

"What, two shillings !" exclaimed Baskett," for seeing a ship. Why, man, that's eightpence a piece!"

"Two shillings a piece," rejoined the face; and really the number of two shillings that were getting placed on the board was something marvellous, and spoke volumes as to the badness of the times.

"One fool makes many," so down went the dust and in went the payers.

Now for what great I thought of it.

The coup d'œil of the first impression was decidedly good. First and foremost, the day was everything that could be wished for such a sight. A bright sun beaming in a clear cerulean sky, lighting up the high ended, low middled, gaudy, glittering vessel, with her many coloured waving flags, and fluttering lamps and ornaments. Then, too, it was the heigh-day of fashion, and the whole vessel was alive with youth and beauty, and fashionable bonnets, boddices, and variegated parasols. The whole as lively as a bed of tulips.

The whole scene was something quite different to any thing that one had ever seen before. There was a fairy landishness about it. Gauze lamps, with Chinese figures, carved furniture, queer-shaped guns peering over the sides of the vessel, a Chinese Idol, a "Joss," as they call them, and all sorts of curiosities. Added to this, there were real live Chinamen, walking about in all directions with their half-shaved heads and their long plaited hair, twisted round their foreheads. We afterwards read an advertisement, which said that visitors were received by a

"Mandarin of rank," though the genius we saw making himself busy looked very like an Englishman with a pair of moustaches.

The state cabin where "Joss" was kept, was fitted up like a showroom, and every thing bespoke great regard to elegance and the creature eomforts of the distinguished passengers. I longed to see the "first Chop man," who lived in the room with "Joss," amid all the finery and gimcracks. The crowd on board, however, was so great, and the heat so intense, that one couldn't bear to go elbowing about, looking here and there for him. I therefore sought shelter from the sun, and amused myself with listening to the queer questions and observations of the visitors. Most of the Chinese had picked up a little English, and the first question usually put to them was,

Well, and how do you like England?" Answer." Vare moch."

Questioner." Like it better than your own country?"

"O, yes!"—which, all things considered, was as big a lie as any one could require them to tell. The day, to be sure, was bright and Pekinlike, but I could fancy the draggled peacock sort of look the whole thing (save Joss, who lived in a cupboard) would have on a regular wet day, such a one as the Sunday following was.

Whether it was that they were naturally shy, or wanted bribing with money, but some of them were very reluctant to show off. One absolutely struck work in the musical line, if such wood knocking and whining can be called music, and another required a deal of coaxing to let a lady see the length of his hair. At length he let it down, and a third of it was explained to be false. There was an uncommonly sharp-looking little fellow, dressed in English clothes, who seemed to listen and catch every thing that was said.

Some of them had discarded the uncomfortable turn-up toed shoes of their own country, in favour of honest leather in Wapping or Shadwell shoes, and seemed to enjoy them. Their dress being loose and wide, and altogether of a mysterious character, I overheard a strong controversy as to whether an individual was a man or a woman; strange to say, the party who insisted that it was a woman was a lady. He proved to be a man. The most amusing person was an old gentleman who sat in the state bureau, on the second floor, at the end by the rudder. He sat fanning himself in his little room-which was nicely fitted up with Chinese furniture, and papered to match-writing his name, "Kising”—Chinese, I suppose, for kissing,-on little bits of tinted paper, which he kept stamping with a couple of red stamps, just as a postmaster stamps a letter. To aid the comprehension of the curious, he had a little bowl of silver money before him, and he kept writing and stamping away, repeating every time he finished a card, "Dis is my name sixpence." He had been interrogated so often as to his age, that the question was hardly put before. out came the answer, "Forty-five." A lady asked him "how many wives he had?" "Two-tree," said he. She asked if he didn't want to go home to see them, to which he was shocking enough to reply, Catch plenty money first, den catch two, tree, more wives;" adding"dis is my name sixpence," with a clatter of the bowl to get her to buy a card to contribute to the "take."

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One genius essayed to cross-examine him as to whether his wives were willing to let him come to England, and whether he ever wrote to any of them, but he cut short the inquiry by stamping away at his tinted

paper, and holding up the card, saying, "dis is my name sixpence." He seemed to drive a good trade.

After lounging about, and basking some two or three hours on deck and in the various cabins and compartments of the vessel, I went on shore and availed myself of a bench against the hoarding to take a comprehensive view of the whole.

It was certainly a very singular affair;-a ship, and yet as unlike a ship as any thing could well be-strength and flimsiness combinedstrong masts, clumsy timbers, child's toys, Chinese ropes, English-looking iron-work, and a rudder like nothing but itself. But for the rudder it would have been difficult to say which was the head and which the stern of the vessel. How the deuce the great unmanageable-looking thing had ever got tumbled over the seas I could not, for the life of me, conceive. Why it had come I could not imagine. One can understand a party of Englishmen cruising about for adventure, running and poking their impudence here, there, and everywhere, but then they have craft equal to the purpose, and money-to say nothing of brass-equal to any thing,-any thing, at least, out of their own country; but why a set of meek, simple-looking Chinamen, with means and leisure enough to embark on such a voyage, should come without money enough to prevent their having recourse to "Dis is my name sixpence," I could not understand. Fancy an Englishman-a yacht-club-man-Lord Wilton, for instance, stranded at Looitchoofoo, or Taitchofoo, or any of their "oo" places, working away with his autograph and coronet stamp-" Wilton; this is my name- -sixpence!"

There was something about it that I didn't understand. It wasn't altogether consistent, not altogether curiosity to see "barbarian eye, that brought John Chinaman to Blackwall. The vessel was desperately smart-the red and the white, and the green and the blue, and the gilding looked too bonnet-box and new to have stood a year's buffeting at sea. Then the spread eagle above the rudder was as fresh as if it was gilt yesterday.

The murder then began to ooze out.

By the great lumbering red rudder, lay a dirty paintless common English punt, not altogether paintless though, for it was plentifully dashed with sparks of the various colours that the vessel had been daubed with. Indeed, I have no doubt the punt had been employed in the service.

"Out upon the ass that left that thing there!" exclaimed I, "to show old Bull how they have been doctoring the thing up for his taste. Out upon the lazy ass," said I, "for leaving it there when the thing is no longer wanted, and so little trouble would have taken it out of sight."

If it had not been the difficulty about building the vessel, I should have begun to suspect that the whole thing had been fabricated at Blackwall. It was clearly overdone" Joss," and the gauze lanthorns, and the cabinets of curiosities, and the little slippers, and the big blunderbusses, and the carved stools, and the up-stairs, and the down-stairs, were far more like a state barge to glide on a river than a thing intended for real voyage, and such a voyage, too.

a

Memory then came to my aid.

"I'll be hanged if I don't think I've seen some of these things before," said I, and recollection asked if it could have been at the Chinese Exhibition, at Hyde Park Corner.

I returned on deck to see.

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