River Legends; Or, Father Thames and Father Rhine

arrival and triumphant progress of these, which had taken place between Putney and Mortlake, and had as usual created great excitement. But other visitors he had put off, and had still more time to devote to the Rhine Monarch if he could be prevailed upon to stay. This, however, was impossible, and the two friends were about to part when Father Thames casually observed, “I hope all will go well with you, Brother Rhine, until we meet again.” The other heaved a deep sigh. “I hope so, indeed,” he replied; “but in these days of progress who can tell what will happen next? Instead of haunted castles I have now Legislative Bodies, which are often possessed by much worse spirits than those which occupied the old {249}ruins; instead of giants I have Ministers; and in the place of river-demons an enlightened Press; and goodness only knows what may become of me at any moment.” “I, too,” responded Father Thames, “have trials which are almost beyond endurance. What with Water Companies, Conservancy Boards, and Embankments, I have of late years been driven nearly wild; and although they have at some places given up the fine old practice of draining into my waters everything that was foul and abominable, and thus creating a public nuisance in the shape of disagreeable and unwholesome odours, which they afterwards had the impudence to attribute to me, and associate the nuisance with my name, yet I am scurvily treated by mankind in general, and made the unwilling receptacle of dead cats and other unpleasant objects, and have my water taken from me in large quantities, when I would much rather retain it.” “All this is very bad,” remarked the Rhine King. “Why not leave such a country and come home with me?” “No, thank you,” drily returned Father Thames, “not even the blessings which you have enumerated as now in your possession could tempt me to take such a step. I should miss my beef and ale too much.” “Ale!” hastily interrupted his companion. “How you continue to harp upon that beverage of yours, which, after all, cannot compare with that which I drink on mine own river. Come, good brother, before I go let me sing you one of our famous Rhine songs in honour of the immortal wine with which my banks are blessed.” And without more ado about the matter, the Rhine {250}Monarch sang as follows in a rich and voice:-- I. “A fig for your sherry or foaming champagne! I’d not give a groat for the whole of your stock; Of thirst if I hear my companions complain, I hold out my bottle with--‘Accipe Hoc! Accipe Hoc, Accipe Hoc!’ I hold out my bottle with--‘Accipe Hoc!’ II. “At night your port-wine bibber drowsily nods, And wakes hot and heavy at crowing of cock; The liquor offer is fit for the gods, And blesses the drinker, so--‘Accipe Hoc! Accipe Hoc, Accipe Hoc!’ It blesses the drinker, so--‘Accipe Hoc!’ III. “Of brandy and whisky I sing not in praise, For feet they make stagger and heads they make rock; But the man who is hoping to lengthen his days, Should list to my counselling--‘Accipe Hoc! Accipe Hoc,’ &c. IV. “Away with your brewing, away with your ale! (Though such a proposal your feelings may shock;) For all your malt liquors infallibly pale Before my Rhine vintage, so--‘Accipe Hoc! Accipe Hoc,’ &c. V. “‘Tis wine that ne’er robs man of senses or wit, But hearts can make lively and tongues can unlock; Makes dull men for once for good company fit, And bright ones still brighter, so--‘Accipe Hoc! Accipe Hoc,’ &c. VI. “Come, fill up your glasses! the toast shall be mine, And loud in applause on the table you’ll knock; When I give you ‘The glorious vintage of Rhine!’ And long may each comrade sing, ‘Accipe Hoc! Accipe Hoc, Accipe Hoc!’ Long may each comrade sing, ‘Accipe Hoc!’” As {251}the Monarch of the Rhine proceeded, I observed a cloud gathering over the brow of Father Thames, which grew darker when uncomplimentary allusion was made to his favourite ale, and by the time that his guest had concluded his song had deepened into a tremendous and awful frown. Scarcely was the last word out of the singer’s mouth than he burst forth in fury. “Brooks and fountains!” he exclaimed in a loud voice, “is it thus I am to be insulted upon mine own waters? and am I to sit still and be silent while these insolent foreigners extol their thin and miserable drinks at the expense of the noble beverage upon which Britons have fattened and thriven ever since they were a people? Off with thee now, then, as soon as thou listest, thou hock-swilling loon, for I cannot put up with such trash!” The Rhine King had already risen; but at these words the greatest astonishment was depicted upon his countenance, for he had really meant no offence, so far as I could see, and for my own part I was myself astonished at the conduct of Father Thames in taking notice of such a trifle. He did so, however, and was apparently quite ready to follow up his words with corresponding actions; for, reaching out his left hand, he raised from beside him a species of instrument somewhat resembling a three-pronged fork, which I had not noticed before, and overset his tumbler with his right hand in the action. {252}This appeared to exasperate him still more, and as his companion muttered something about the effects of too much ale being to make a man lose his temper, he appeared to get more and more angry, and made as though he would rise.

Illustration note

[Illustration: 271]

Upon this the Monarch of the Rhine tarried no longer, but made a sudden bolt of it, carrying a couple of curiously shaped spears in his left hand, and leading in his right his attendant eagle, tied with a string which was fastened to a collar round its neck. In this undignified manner the Rhine King rushed off the island, and I was so thoroughly ashamed at the rude and inhospitable conduct of my native river that I anxiously started forward to stop the stranger king’s flight, to offer apologies, and, if possible, to set matters right between the two. In so doing, however, something struck my hat from my head, and with the shock I awoke, and sat up amazed. There, indeed, was {253}the dear old river flowing on and on at my feet; there was the island, and upon it were the reeds and willows as usual, but the River Monarchs were nowhere to be seen. They had passed away like a dream, and no doubt I should be told that all I had seen and heard was only the results of a visit to dreamland during my nap that afternoon. It was getting dark, and I could only just see the stately shape of Windsor Castle rearing itself above the town in the distance, whilst, to the left, the buildings of my beloved Eton appeared to be shadows fading away in the fast-approaching darkness of night. “Absit omen!” I exclaimed as I sprang to my feet. “The glory of Eton shall never fail whilst England is England; and, least of all, shall the love of her sons for the dear old college ever fade or lessen whilst life endures. I, at least, will be a boy as long as I live in my love for Eton and Eton boys, and to their approval will I submit the legends which I have heard here to-day.” Filled with these thoughts, I hurried home as fast as I could, and wrote down from memory what I had heard and seen, resolving, if possible, to obtain some further information from the same sources if ever the opportunity should again present itself. THE END.