Flannels in moderation are pardonable, but they are slightly out of place if you can't row and it rains.
The cuisine of a houseboat is not always limitless, so "chance" visitors are sometimes more numerous than welcome.
The humours of burnt-cork minstrelsy must be tolerated during an aquatic carnival, but it is as well to give street singers as wide a berth as possible.
In the selection of guests for, say, The Pearl of the North Pole, or The Hushaby Baby, it is as well to learn that none of them are cuts with the others, and all are prepared to accept "roughing it" as the order of the day.
Lanterns, music, and fireworks are extremely pretty things, but night air on the river is sometimes an introduction to sciatica, rheumatism, and chills.
In the selection of a costume, a lady should remember that it is good to be "smart," but better still to be well.
Finally, it is desirable to bear in mind that, pleasant as riparian life may be, Henley is, after all, a regatta, and that consequently some sort of attention should be paid to the racing.
GASTRONOMERS AFLOAT
Mrs. Fleshpottle. "Well, I must say, Mrs. Gumblewag, I like something substantial for my dinner. Nothing, I think, can be better than some pea-soup to begin with; then a biled leg of mutton with plenty of fat, with turnips and caper sauce; then some tripe and onions, and one or two nice suet dumplings as a finish!"
Mrs. Gumblewag. "For my part, mum, I prefer something more tasty and flavoursome-like. Now, a well-cooked bullock's heart, to be followed by some liver and bacon, and a dish of greens. Afterwards a jam bolster, and a black pudding, and some toasted cheese to top up with, is what I call a dinner fit for a----"
