When joining a steamboat excursion the Gent never sits on the regular benches placed for that purpose. He prefers the top of the cabin-door—the steps of the paddle-boxes—the platform on which the steersman is elevated, and the like situations. Here you may always see him with a newspaper and a bottle of stout, a light blue stock, and, being Sunday, a very new hat, and a pair of white trowsers: with Berlin gloves, which he carries in his hand. For, indeed, not being used to them, nothing presents so perfect an idea of tolerated discomfort as a Sunday Gent in a pair of gloves. We can only compare the appearance of his hands, when suffering under the infliction, to those of a Guy Fawkes, or the tailors’ dressed-up dummies before alluded to.
But there are also aquatic Gents, who row in boats on regatta afternoons, and hope to be mistaken for “Leanders.” Their principal characteristics when on the river, in this phase, are propensities to wear pink silk jerseys, and silk caps. Now and then they have been known to row in white kid gloves. But they may soon be detected; and are especially found out by a race of amphibious aborigines who affect the river and its banks, known to the natives as “Coalies” and “Bargees;” and who call them tailors, and make unpleasant allusion to goose and board, whereupon the anger of the Gents being called forth, they retort, asking of the latter amphibia above alluded to, “who eat the puppy pie under Marlow bridge?” In which query, it is presumed, lies a hidden taunt of rankling venom; for the “Bargees” immediately indulge in language which would shock any one of a properly constituted mind, very dreadfully—and call the Gents sweeps, not always without some adjective prefixed, more powerful than polite.
River Gents are very fond of talking of their “rooms;” which means the rooms rented by Oxford and Cambridge rowing men, for their meetings previous to matches, starting, &c. With these, and the members of them, the Gent professes to have an intimate acquaintance, albeit most likely he never entered them, and would in all probability be snubbed out, or possibly kicked, if he made the attempt.
Another great feature in the natures of the river Gents, is that of belonging to four-oared cutter-clubs, with startling names; such as, the Argonauts, the Corsairs, &c. They have their boats very elaborately adorned—red and blue; and lots of gilding being considered the thing; with the arms of the club—the only ones with which they have, in any way, any thing to do—being emblazoned everywhere. In such clubs the members row up to Putney, dine, get drunk, sing out of window, and come back in an omnibus, leaving their waterman to bring the boat home the next day.
The river Gent always knows a man with a yacht, with whom he has once been as far as Gravesend. This enables him to talk about the “Bargee;” and even when he thinks he is entirely amongst the unsophisticated, to launch into hazardous remarks about a “flying-jib,” and the build of the Prima Donna. And if he in any way intends to make a great effect, he has been frequently known to take the name of Lord Alfred Paget in vain; which is a great thing, not only with river Gents, but all sorts of city yacht men generally.
