MY PORTRAIT, BY F. C. BURNAND.
Mr. Burnand and I rode a great deal together. Avoiding the Row, my editor preferred to ride to Hampstead, Harrow, or Mill Hill, calling for me on the way. Once, when I could not ride, he wrote: "Very sorry to hear of your being laid up with a cold; it shows what even the Wisest and Best amongst us are liable to. The idea is monstrous of a Cold Furniss. A coal'd furniss is satisfactory. Don't take too much out of yourself with riding. 'He speaks to thee who hath not got a horse'—Shakespeare." Then follows later a specimen of his irrepressible good humour:
22 Nov.
"Alas and alack!
I've got a hack,
But the weather's been such,
I've not got on his back.
"I got no jog
Because of the fog,
And up to twelve,
In breeches and boots,
Which I had to shelve
And recover my foots.
I lunched at the 'G'
(So there was, you see,
One Gee for me).
"Then I came back
And wrote some play
But oh, good lack!
No riding to-day.
If foggy here,
At Ramsgate 'twas clear.
"Alas and alack!
I'll sell my hack,
Much to my sorrow.
I'll ride to-morrow,
That is, if fine,
But not at nine.
I shall not start, if I'm alive
And have the heart, till ten forty-five.
"Away to parks I'll trot
To get a little hot,
Also to get a little dirty,
And with you be 11.30.
"Till one,
Then done.
Back to Lunch,
Then to Office of Punch.
This my plan, you'll be happy to learn, is
At your disposal, Mr. Furniss."