The vaterman’s leering at us,
And the gals is a giggling so—­
They take us for green’uns, but ve
Vill soon show ’em how ve can row.

Alas! for poor Bobby’s “show off”—­
He slipp’d in a trice from his seat—­
While his beaver fell into the stream,
And the gals laugh’d aloud at his feat.

For his boots were alone to be seen,
As he sprawled like a crab on its back;
While the waterman cried—­“Ho! my lads! 
I think you’d best try t’other tack!”

Says Bobby—­“You fool, it’s your fault;
Look—­my best Sunday castor is vet: 
Pull ashore, then, as fast as you can. 
I can’t row no more—­I’m upset.

“I think that my napper is broke,
Abumpin’ agin this wile boat;
You may laugh—­but I think it’s no joke: 
And I shan’t soon agin be afloat.

“I’ll never take you out agin—­
I’ve had quite enough in this bout!”
Cried Jem—­“Don’t be angry vith me;
Sit still, and I’ll soon—­put you out!”

STEAMING IT TO MARGATE.

“Steward, bring me a glass of brandy as quick as you can.”

Since the invention of steam, thousands have been tempted to inhale the saline salubrity of the sea, that would never have been induced to try, and be tried, by the experiment of a trip.  Like hams for the market, every body is now regularly salted and smoked.  The process, too, is so cheap!  The accommodations are so elegant, and the sailors so smart!  None of the rolling roughness of quid-chewing Jack-tars.  Jack-tars! pshaw! they are regular smoke jacks on board a steamer!  The Steward ("waiter” by half the cockneys called) is so ready and obliging; and then the provisions is excellent.  Who would not take a trip to Margate?  There’s only one thing that rather adulterates the felicity—­a drop of gall in the cup of mead!—­and that is the horrid sea-sickness! learnedly called nostalgia; but call it by any name you please, like a stray dog, it is pretty sure to come.

The cold perspiration—­the internal commotion—­the brain’s giddiness—­the utter prostration of strength—­the Oh!  I never shall forget the death-like feel!—­Fat men rolling on the deck, like fresh caught porpoises; little children floundering about; and white muslins and parasols vanishing below!  The smoking-hot dinner sends up its fumes, and makes the sick more sick.  Soda-water corks are popping and flying about in every direction, like a miniature battery pointed against the assaults of the horrid enemy!

“Steward!” faintly cries a fat bilious man, “bring me a glass of brandy as quick as you can.”

But alas! he who can thus readily summon spirits from the vasty deep, has no power over the rolling sea, or its reaches!

“O! my poor pa!” exclaims the interesting Wilhelmina; and is so overcome, that she, sweet sympathizer! is soon below pa in the ladies’ cabin.  In fact, the greater part of the pleasure-seekers are taken—­at full length.