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CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL
OF
POPULAR
LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART.
CONTENTS
A RIVER HOLIDAY.
BY MEAD AND STREAM.
HOME-NURSING.
VERMUDYN’S FATE.
QUEEN MARGARET COLLEGE.
THE MONTH: SCIENCE AND ARTS.
OCCASIONAL NOTES.
EN PASSANT.
No. 35.—Vol. I.
Price 1½d.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 30, 1884.
A RIVER HOLIDAY.
What the yacht-races at Cowes and a score ofother places are to that section of the upperten-thousand who delight in everything thatpertains to the sea, and to whom the smell ofsalt water is as the breath of life—what Henleyregatta is to those who find their exercise orpastime among the sunny reaches of the UpperThames—such is the annual sailing-barge matchfrom Erith to the Nore and back, to the vastriver-side population below-bridge who havemore or less to do, or are in some way connected,with the dock, canal, or up-river shipping trafficof the port of London. To these worthy people,as well as to some thousands of others from allparts of the metropolis, many of whom, in allprobability, rarely adventure so far on theThames at any other time, it is the race parexcellence of the year; and it has much about itto render this widespread popularity deserved.
It is a bright midsummer morning, and theclock is on the stroke of nine when we find ourselveson Blackwall pier, with its vast shut-uphotel staring blankly across the river, once ona time famed far and wide for its capital fish-dinners;but now, alas, given over to desolationand decay. Even as far away as Dalston Junction,at which place we have to change trains,unmistakable signs of holiday-making are apparent;and at each station as we come along wepick up a numerous contingent, all of whom,to judge from appearances, like John Gilpin’swife, are evidently on pleasure bent.
We find the pier gay with summer costumesand smiling faces; friend greets friend after thehearty, robust English fashion which has notyet died out ‘east of Temple Bar;’ the rivergleams with a thousand silver ripples in themorning sun; the heat is tempered by an exhilaratingbreeze; everybody prophesies that weshall have a glorious day. The majority ofthose on the pier are waiting the arrival of theexcursion steamers from London Bridge. We,more fortunate than many, are the recipients ofan invitation to a private party which numbers,all told, some five-and-thirty souls. Presently,from among a cloud of others we single out theparticular bit of bunting we h