482 

 THE MARGATE HOY. 



IT is many years ago, on a bright morning in August, that I detected 

 myself descending the City Road from Islington, on my route to Thames 

 Street, having determined to treat myself to a view of the natural beau- 

 ties of Father Thames. To accomplish this craving after the pictu- 

 resque, I had taken my passage on board a Margate-hoy. Many will 

 doubtless have occasion to inquire of their elders and betters, the mean- 

 ing of the term hoy. To be perspicuous, then, hoys were small vessels 

 plying to and from Margate, at much less cost, less trouble, and less 

 risk, than your modern nuisances, steam-boats. 



But these were days when people were not bitten with the mania of 

 innovation; when they were contented with what their fathers had 

 before them ; when radical reform was voted treason, as it ought 

 to be : when people made money, and enjoyed themselves, and did 

 not grumble and starve. If the king bless his memory! he was a 

 pattern to princes, if he dipped his hand pretty freely into their 

 purses why, " there was plenty there, and plenty to spare," as they 

 used goodhumouredly to say. I've never seen better times than when 

 a man could pick your pocket, and you none the wiser. In those days 

 we had no unnatural combinations with the French. The French were 

 our natural enemies ; and every free-born Briton, that was not a dis- 

 grace to the name, was bound to hate all Frenchmen and frogs, and 

 wooden shoes. Those were glorious days, and England will never be 

 herself again till the same wholesome natural feeling returns. However, 

 all that has nothing to do with the Margate-hoy. 



Arrived in Thames-Street, I rapidly embarked, and surveyed my 

 position. Here was food for the imagination ! what a glorious com- 

 mixture of antitheses ! what abrupt and terrific variety in the mental 

 polarization of individuals ! In a Margate-hoy, at least, extremes 

 always meet. 



Although the vessel was scarcely " under weigh/' the work of masti- 

 catory destruction had already begun. Baskets and panniers unfolded 

 their stores, and a host of sallow, sore-eyed children gazed in agonizing 

 gluttony upon the contents. Bottled porter, brandy, peppermint, gin, 

 and rum, were, even at this early hour of the morning, steadily resorted 

 to, anticipatory of sea-sickness. Every species of eatable abomination 

 was discernible on deck, in every variety of envelope, from the decent 

 wicker-basket to the dirty neck-cloth or pocket-handkerchief, tied in 

 repeated knots upon the treasures within. Here was displayed the 

 trembling delicacy of the grey cow-heel, the shining slice of single 

 Gloster cheese, the tooth-drawing |--inch sandwich of " genuine Irish 

 ham," straining the lid of the japan sandwich-box and even oh! 

 horror ! cold roasted potatoes, with large flattened spheres of suet 

 dumpling ! All these were present ; and, lastly, that horrific pestilen- 

 tial abomination, termed " bubble and squeak," to the swallowing of 

 which, cannibalism is a classic virtue. 



Many were the features of disgust at this scene, exhibited by the 

 hebdomidal pretenders to aristocratic notions. But farther forward 

 stood a group of three elderly individuals, whom the powdered hair and 

 foreign cut of their dress and hat, of a truly national shape, pronounced, 



