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Three Men In A Boat; Also, Diary Of A Pilgrimage; [And], Three Men On The Bummel

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Three books in one. Original Illustrations by A Frederies, GG Fraser & L Raven Hill.


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Three books in one. Original Illustrations by A Frederies, GG Fraser & L Raven Hill.

25 review for Three Men In A Boat; Also, Diary Of A Pilgrimage; [And], Three Men On The Bummel

  1. 4 out of 5

    Dr.J.G.

    Three Men in a Boat One of the most hilarious books one could find. The title mentioned here is incomplete, the real title is "Three Men in a Boat, to Say Nothing About the Dog". The three friends start off on a boating trip for pleasure, and it is hilarious from the beginning. Packing, setting off, towing, locks, cooking, and anecdotes galore. Friday, September 12, 2008. ............ Three Men On A Bummel The three friends - encouraged by the boat excursion, though it hard to imagine why - decide to Three Men in a Boat One of the most hilarious books one could find. The title mentioned here is incomplete, the real title is "Three Men in a Boat, to Say Nothing About the Dog". The three friends start off on a boating trip for pleasure, and it is hilarious from the beginning. Packing, setting off, towing, locks, cooking, and anecdotes galore. Friday, September 12, 2008. ............ Three Men On A Bummel The three friends - encouraged by the boat excursion, though it hard to imagine why - decide to venture a bit farther afield and go to Germany, no less. So we hear about the German love of planning and obedience to state and arraging everything perfectly. We also hear about the guidebooks for foreigners in local languages sold everywhere in Europe antheir efficacy tested by the three in London in English language version. Hilarious. The walk up a mountain disdaining the ubiquitous German efficiency in having a restaurant on every mountain top and not finding one while standing right before it, the buying of a cushion, the tale about a condemned man being provided instructions about execution of his own sentence - everything. In fact that is an understatement - when I read this it is hard not to laugh till it hurts physically, one just cannot help it, especially about the hats and the shoes, not that the taxi is not a good beginning. And the cushions and other incidents in Germany, and observations, just priceless. Monday, October 20, 2008. ............ Saturday, October 8, 2011. ............ Diary of a Pilgrimage ............ This one promises, at the outset, to be a true blue Jerome K. Jerome work of the sort familiar to most readers. It fits in neatly with the Three Men books. ............ "Said a friend of mine to me some months ago: “Well now, why don’t you write a sensible book? I should like to see you make people think.” "“Do you believe it can be done, then?” I asked. "“Well, try,” he replied. "Accordingly, I have tried. This is a sensible book. I want you to understand that. This is a book to improve your mind. In this book I tell you all about Germany—at all events, all I know about Germany—and the Ober-Ammergau Passion Play. I also tell you about other things. I do not tell you all I know about all these other things, because I do not want to swamp you with knowledge. I wish to lead you gradually. When you have learnt this book, you can come again, and I will tell you some more. I should only be defeating my own object did I, by making you think too much at first, give you a perhaps, lasting dislike to the exercise. I have purposely put the matter in a light and attractive form, so that I may secure the attention of the young and the frivolous. I do not want them to notice, as they go on, that they are being instructed; and I have, therefore, endeavoured to disguise from them, so far as is practicable, that this is either an exceptionally clever or an exceptionally useful work. I want to do them good without their knowing it. I want to do you all good—to improve your minds and to make you think, if I can. "What you will think after you have read the book, I do not want to know; indeed, I would rather not know. It will be sufficient reward for me to feel that I have done my duty, and to receive a percentage on the gross sales. "London, March, 1891." ............ "Society has no notion of paying all men equally. Her great object is to encourage brain. The man who merely works by his muscles she regards as very little superior to the horse or the ox, and provides for him just a little better. But the moment he begins to use his head, and from the labourer rises to the artisan, she begins to raise his wages. "Of course hers is a very imperfect method of encouraging thought. She is of the world, and takes a worldly standard of cleverness. To the shallow, showy writer, I fear, she generally pays far more than to the deep and brilliant thinker; and clever roguery seems often more to her liking than honest worth. But her scheme is a right and sound one; her aims and intentions are clear; her methods, on the whole, work fairly well; and every year she grows in judgment. "One day she will arrive at perfect wisdom, and will pay each man according to his deserts. "But do not be alarmed. This will not happen in our time." ............ "If it had not been that I had paid for saloon, I should have gone fore. It was much fresher there, and I should have been much happier there altogether. But I was not going to pay for first-class and then ride third—that was not business. No, I would stick to the swagger part of the ship, and feel aristocratic and sick. "A mate, or a boatswain, or an admiral, or one of those sort of people—I could not be sure, in the darkness, which it was—came up to me as I was leaning with my head against the paddle-box, and asked me what I thought of the ship. He said she was a new boat, and that this was her first voyage. "I said I hoped she would get a bit steadier as she grew older. "He replied: “Yes, she is a bit skittish to-night.” "What it seemed to me was, that the ship would try to lie down and go to sleep on her right side; and then, before she had given that position a fair trial, would suddenly change her mind, and think she could do it better on her left. At the moment the man came up to me she was trying to stand on her head; and before he had finished speaking she had given up this attempt, in which, however, she had very nearly succeeded, and had, apparently, decided to now play at getting out of the water altogether." ............ "Five minutes before the train started, the rightful owners of the carriage came up and crowded in. They seemed surprised at finding only five vacant seats available between seven of them, and commenced to quarrel vigorously among themselves. "B. and I and the unjust man in the corner tried to calm them, but passion ran too high at first for the voice of Reason to be heard. Each combination of five, possible among them, accused each remaining two of endeavouring to obtain seats by fraud, and each one more than hinted that the other six were liars. "What annoyed me was that they quarrelled in English. They all had languages of their own,—there were four Belgians, two Frenchmen, and a German,—but no language was good enough for them to insult each other in but English. "Finding that there seemed to be no chance of their ever agreeing among themselves, they appealed to us. We unhesitatingly decided in favour of the five thinnest, who, thereupon, evidently regarding the matter as finally settled, sat down, and told the other two to get out. "These two stout ones, however—the German and one of the Belgians—seemed inclined to dispute the award, and called up the station-master. "The station-master did not wait to listen to what they had to say, but at once began abusing them for being in the carriage at all. He told them they ought to be ashamed of themselves for forcing their way into a compartment that was already more than full, and inconveniencing the people already there. "He also used English to explain this to them, and they got out on the platform and answered him back in English. "English seems to be the popular language for quarrelling in, among foreigners. I suppose they find it more expressive. "We all watched the group from the window. We were amused and interested. In the middle of the argument an early gendarme arrived on the scene. The gendarme naturally supported the station-master. One man in uniform always supports another man in uniform, no matter what the row is about, or who may be in the right—that does not trouble him. It is a fixed tenet of belief among uniform circles that a uniform can do no wrong. If burglars wore uniform, the police would be instructed to render them every assistance in their power, and to take into custody any householder attempting to interfere with them in the execution of their business. The gendarme assisted the station-master to abuse the two stout passengers, and he also abused them in English. It was not good English in any sense of the word. The man would probably have been able to give his feelings much greater variety and play in French or Flemish, but that was not his object. His ambition, like every other foreigner’s, was to become an accomplished English quarreller, and this was practice for him. "A Customs House clerk came out and joined in the babel. He took the part of the passengers, and abused the station-master and the gendarme, and he abused them in English. "B. said he thought it very pleasant here, far from our native shores, in the land of the stranger, to come across a little homely English row like this." ............ "Whenever a German railway-guard feels lonesome, and does not know what else to do with himself, he takes a walk round the train, and gets the passengers to show him their tickets, after which he returns to his box cheered and refreshed. Some people rave about sunsets and mountains and old masters; but to the German railway-guard the world can show nothing more satisfying, more inspiring, than the sight of a railway-ticket. "Nearly all the German railway officials have this same craving for tickets. If only they get somebody to show them a railway-ticket, they are happy. It seemed a harmless weakness of theirs, and B. and I decided that it would be only kind to humour them in it during our stay. "Accordingly, whenever we saw a German railway official standing about, looking sad and weary, we went up to him and showed him our tickets. The sight was like a ray of sunshine to him; and all his care was immediately forgotten. If we had not a ticket with us at the time, we went and bought one. A mere single third to the next station would gladden him sufficiently in most cases; but if the poor fellow appeared very woe-begone, and as if he wanted more than ordinary cheering up, we got him a second-class return. "For the purpose of our journey to Ober-Ammergau and back, we each carried with us a folio containing some ten or twelve first-class tickets between different towns, covering in all a distance of some thousand miles; and one afternoon, at Munich, seeing a railway official, a cloak-room keeper, who they told us had lately lost his aunt, and who looked exceptionally dejected, I proposed to B. that we should take this man into a quiet corner, and both of us show him all our tickets at once—the whole twenty or twenty-four of them—and let him take them in his hand and look at them for as long as he liked. I wanted to comfort him. "B., however, advised against the suggestion. He said that even if it did not turn the man’s head (and it was more than probable that it would), so much jealousy would be created against him among the other railway people throughout Germany, that his life would be made a misery to him. "So we bought and showed him a first-class return to the next station but one; and it was quite pathetic to watch the poor fellow’s face brighten up at the sight, and to see the faint smile creep back to the lips from which it had so long been absent. "But at times, one wishes that the German railway official would control his passion for tickets—or, at least, keep it within due bounds. "Even the most kindly-hearted man grows tired of showing his ticket all day and night long, and the middle of a wearisome journey is not the proper time for a man to come to the carriage-window and clamour to see your “billet.” "You are weary and sleepy. You do not know where your ticket is. You are not quite sure that you have got a ticket; or if you ever had one, somebody has taken it away from you. You have put it by very carefully, thinking that it would not be wanted for hours, and have forgotten where. "There are eleven pockets in the suit you have on, and five more in the overcoat on the rack. Maybe, it is in one of those pockets. If not, it is possibly in one of the bags—somewhere, or in your pocket-book, if you only knew where that was, or your purse." ............ "To pass away the time, we strolled about the city. Munich is a fine, handsome, open town, full of noble streets and splendid buildings; but in spite of this and of its hundred and seventy thousand inhabitants, an atmosphere of quiet and provincialism hovers over it. There is but little traffic on ordinary occasions along its broad ways, and customers in its well-stocked shops are few and far between. This day being Sunday, it was busier than usual, and its promenades were thronged with citizens and country folk in holiday attire, among whom the Southern peasants, wearing their quaint, centuries-old costume, stood out in picturesque relief. Fashion, in its world-wide crusade against variety and its bitter contest with form and colour, has recoiled, defeated for the present from the mountain fastnesses of Bavaria." "Munich and the country round about it make a great exchange of peoples every Sunday. In the morning, trainload after trainload of villagers and mountaineers pour into the town, and trainload after trainload of good and other citizens steam out to spend the day in wood and valley, and upon lake and mountain-side." ............ "I mention that we had dinner, not because I think that the information will prove exciting to the reader, but because I wish to warn my countrymen, travelling in Germany, against undue indulgence in Liptauer cheese. "I am fond of cheese, and of trying new varieties of cheese; so that when I looked down the cheese department of the bill of fare, and came across “liptauer garnit,” an article of diet I had never before heard of, I determined to sample it. "It was not a tempting-looking cheese. It was an unhealthy, sad-looking cheese. It looked like a cheese that had seen trouble. In appearance it resembled putty more than anything else. It even tasted like putty—at least, like I should imagine putty would taste. To this hour I am not positive that it was not putty. The garnishing was even more remarkable than the cheese. All the way round the plate were piled articles that I had never before seen at a dinner, and that I do not ever want to see there again." "I felt very sad after dinner. All the things I have done in my life that I should not have done recurred to me with painful vividness. (There seemed to be a goodish number of them, too.) I thought of all the disappointments and reverses I had experienced during my career; of all the injustice that I had suffered, and of all the unkind things that had been said and done to me. I thought of all the people I had known who were now dead, and whom I should never see again, of all the girls that I had loved, who were now married to other fellows, while I did not even know their present addresses. I pondered upon our earthly existence, upon how hollow, false, and transient it is, and how full of sorrow. I mused upon the wickedness of the world and of everybody in it, and the ....

  2. 4 out of 5

    Jennifer

    Our book club seemed divided on whether this book was delightfully amusing or pointless and boring. I see how it could go either way, but I fell on the delightfully amusing side. One member said it reminded her of Seinfeld--a book about nothing--and in a way, that's fair. It's about a vacation, and it requires a vacation frame of mind to read it. Our heros are floating down the river, and the book recounts their adventures and misadventures, both current and episodes recalled from previous trips Our book club seemed divided on whether this book was delightfully amusing or pointless and boring. I see how it could go either way, but I fell on the delightfully amusing side. One member said it reminded her of Seinfeld--a book about nothing--and in a way, that's fair. It's about a vacation, and it requires a vacation frame of mind to read it. Our heros are floating down the river, and the book recounts their adventures and misadventures, both current and episodes recalled from previous trips, and it evokes the beauty and history of the Thames. It's dry British humor, and more episodic than plot-driven, but if you're in the mood for a lazy float down the river, this is a good choice!

  3. 4 out of 5

    Ruben

  4. 4 out of 5

    Hafsa

  5. 4 out of 5

    Kathleen Becker

  6. 5 out of 5

    Helen

  7. 5 out of 5

    Cathy

  8. 5 out of 5

    Boris

  9. 4 out of 5

    Julie

  10. 4 out of 5

    Cassandra

  11. 4 out of 5

    Sian Enos

  12. 5 out of 5

    Supremum

  13. 4 out of 5

    Deborah

  14. 5 out of 5

    Anatwork

  15. 4 out of 5

    :d

  16. 4 out of 5

    anatwork

  17. 4 out of 5

    Rich

  18. 4 out of 5

    Colin Davey

  19. 4 out of 5

    Linda

  20. 5 out of 5

    Stewart

  21. 4 out of 5

    Eric Person

  22. 4 out of 5

    SS

  23. 5 out of 5

    Hannah Wilcox

  24. 5 out of 5

    Beckii

  25. 4 out of 5

    Daren

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