Manuscript poem, illustrated, of an imagined encounter with a sea monster during a fishing expedition. Text and illustrations, both in pen and black ink, appear to be by a single hand. Several of the illustrations are signed J.W., Sept. 1863. The poem was probably written for the private amusement of a family, the five members of which (parents, two daughters, and a son) all appear in a drawing of a domestic dining scene at the opening of the volume. The four remaining illustrations show the fishing party at the cliffs of Filey Brigg. The final lines of verse warn against believing Du Chaillu's "wondrous tale", a reference to the explorer Paul Du Chaillu (1835-1903), who had recently published his "Explorations and Adventures in Equatorial Africa." Transcription: "A little man I know, two little maids also, who hasten'd the brigg for to fish, fish, fish; they took both line & rod, and thought to hook a cod, which at suppertime should smoke on a dish, dish, dish. So when they reached the sea, they waited just a wee, and then sure eno' they'd a bite, bite, bite; at length so great's the tug, that in the line they lug, full confident the fish is hook'd all right, right, right. But ere their prize they land, all aghast the trio stand, for a sight makes their hair stand on end, end, end; a monstrous lizard face, came up and made grimace, so, fast as legs can hurry, home they wend, wend, wend. All breathless they narrate, death had nearly been their fate, for the monster they are sure he had claws, claws, claws; alike both boy and maid, were horribly afraid, of being munched to pieces in his jaws, jaws, jaws. Then all the village flock, and gather on the rock, the "wonders of the deep" to explore, plore, plore; all anxiously they stare, till the ebbing tide laid bare, the seaweed for the monster was not more, more, more. Now everybody knows, about the three black crows, and a little bit of weed in the sea, sea, sea; but wants a willing mind, to credulity inclined, to become a monster horrid as can be, be, be. So now my good young folk, take warning from my joke, and don't let your tongues waggle fast, fast, fast; in Chaillu's wondrous tale, but little will avail, when his twaddles are found out at the last, last, last."
