In spite, perhaps unconscious, of all this, the jubilant fishmongers proceeded to the enjoyment of their pic-nic with light hearts. The oystermen, most of whom were natives, were appropriately clothed in shell-jackets, and wore barnacles. Miss Annet Snapperton, resplendent in a sea-green fishu, with cochineel trimmings, and a sea-anemone in her hair, proved an irresistible bait to young Codlington, a susceptible periwinkler and oysterman. He swore by the beard of the sacred oyster that she was an angel—called her his turtle and his pet (limpet, in fact)—and, while he besought her to fly with him and share a "grotter of hyster shells," he stated his intention of adhering to her heart like a limpet to its native rock, or the teeth of a skate to the finger of a too-confiding fisherman. At the conclusion of the banquet a speech was called for, and old Grampus rose. He said:—"Fishmongers and Fellow-oystermen (hear, hear), to meat you here on this ausfishous occasion" [he lisped a bit after eating salmon] "eels the wounded spirit and warms the cockles of this heart. Star-fish and stingarees! May I be scolloped if this aint the proudest moment of my life!" (Cheers.) He proceeded to state his views on things in general—regretted that a more able speaker had not been chosen to offishiate—hoped they wouldn't expect along speech from him, as he wasn't a parson—in fact he understood more about the curing of herrings, than the cure of soles—and the only school he ever attended was a "school" of mackerel which appeared off the coast one Sunday morning when he was a boy at home. His father had on that occasion taken him by the hand, and together they attended that Sunday-school. Subsequent proceedings made such an impression on his mind that he henceforth resolved to become a fish-dealer, and became one accordingly. He had read his Bible, and had heard about the "miraculous draught of fishes"—thought it must have been a brandy-p(r)awnee—always thought fish were something to eat before, though lie had known fishermen drink their whole week's catch on Saturday night—was a sober man himself, and didn't go in for mackarelous "draughts" of that kind. If not a religious man, he always strove to do his duty! Though he had been a fisherman in his time, he had never been a plaice hunter, and, Ecod! he thought few M.P's. could say that. What were his religious principles? Well, he wasn't a mussle-man, and though he dealt, in shell-fish, he abhorred shellfishness. He had heard about some all-fired heathens who worshipped Zorooyster (? Zoroaster); he couldn't say as he was acquainted with that mollusc, and wouldn't worship him if he were. Oysters was good things if you didn't put brandy a top of 'em, and he believed in cockles (the molluscs, not the pills), but worship a hoyster! Thank'eaven, he wasn't so far gone as that! Such ideas was incongerous.
He sat down amid applause, and musical and terpsichorean festivities commenced. Somebody danced the fishmongers' hornpipe. "Sets" were formed, and the (s)caly-donians gone through with great spirit. A gloomy-looking fish-dealer, with a bass voice, sang "My sole is dark and a blighted-looking young oyster-opener gave them, "Shells of the Ocean," and "Oh, shell we never part," alluding to the monotony of his occupation. Young Codlington sang "(T)winkle, (t)winkle, little Star-fish" with great taste and feeling. Fun and frolic became general, and it was late ere the (r)oysterers returned home, thoroughly wearied, but happy.
THE WHEELWRIGHTS' PIC-NIC.
THE man who cannot sympathize with a wheelwright in his joys and sorrows ought to be treated to a taste of lynch (or lynch-pin) law. No one with a properly regulated mind can fail to admire their round-about way of doing things, and their untiring energy; and no rightly thinking person could be otherwise than rejoiced on hearing the other day that these jolly good felleys had made up their minds to have a trundle down the harbour, and an afternoon's enjoyment Of course the party started from the Circular Quay, and took with them a plentiful supply of weal and ham pies and roly-poly puddings. They reached their destination in safety, and after a short walk along the beach, the order was given to "right-wheel," and they found themselves in a delightful glade, where the blue gum waved its giant branches in the summer air, and the luxuriant axel-tree cast a grateful shade over the holiday-keepers.
The ladies—with complexions of a smoothness only to be attained by sand-paper in experienced hands—looked as fresh as paint, and shone like varnish. They were at tired, in elegant and becoming costumes. Spokes was nearly missing the affair altogether, as he woke late, and then had to dress, wash, and (spoke)-shave himself in a hurry. Old Wheels—and a wideawake old fly-wheel he was—drove down in his buggy with Mrs. Wheels and the four Miss Wheels, and, what with the front and hind wheels of the trap, the wheals inflicted by the avenging hand of Old Wheels on the horse's behind, and the young Wheels—segments of the parent Wheels—clinging on wherever they could get hand or foot-hold, it was estimated that there couldn't have been less than sixty or seventy wheels to the turn-out. Talking of traps, the four Miss Wheels constituted a four-wheeled trap for the hearts of men of a most dangerous description; and, after they had all partaken plentifully of the weal pies, there was weal within Wheels, and a complicated state of things which set mathematical and digestive theories at defiance.
Old Wheels delivered an address, in which he stated that a bond of unity was the best tire for the public weal, and that if the felleys in the House wern't such a lot of (k)naves, they'd run truer, stick closer together, and endeavour to axelerate public business more than they did. He was proceeding to demonstrate that ——— was no more use in the House than the "fifth wheel of a coach," when one of the younger Wheels began to squeak in an agonizing manner. It was immediately greased with some strawberrys and cream, and its (s)creams subsided into chuckles of gratification. Dancing, of the "turnabout, and wheel-about, and jump Jim Crow" order, then commenced, and kiss-in-the-ring, rounders, and other circular amusements, became general. A musical young wheelwright, on being called on for a song, suspended his occupation of picking his teeth with a lynch-pin, and gave them "Weel may the keel row," and Axelcior." Spokes proved himself a capital speaker, and made the speech of the day, full of beautifully rounded sentences and quotations from Spokeshave. But all things must have an end unfortunately, and when at length the whistle of the steam-boat sounded for departure, the wheelwrights took their way homeward, happy, but thoroughly tired.