Chapter II: Part 2

Large numbers of tripp--visitors, I mean, continue to pour into the town from Saturdays to Mondays, benefiting greatly by their small change. The lodging-house keepers also derive considerable benefit from their (the visitors') small change, especially when left lying about on the mantelpiece. No one could complain of dulness here now, for as I write, twenty-three barrel-organs, eleven troupes of nigger minstrels and four blind beggars with fiddles are amusing and delighting their listeners on the sands. The place is thoroughly lively, hardly an hour of the day passing without at least two street rows between inebriated excursionists taking place. The police force has been doubled, and the magistrates have given notice that, for the future, they will give no "option," and that all sentences for assaults in the streets will be with hard labour.

* * * * *

_Second ditto_ (_who has been in Paris some time_). "He couldn't have said _'Woa!'_ as there ain't no 'W' in French."

_First ditto._ "No 'W' in French? Then 'ow d'yer spell 'wee'?"]

* * * * *

* * * * *

_Farmer._ "Now, if your lady 'ud like some nice pork--Oh! she does like pork?--Well, then, we shall kill a pig the week arter next."]

* * * * *

_Landlady_ (_who is evidently in the coal business as well_). "Oh, we'll accommodate you somehow, sir, if me and my 'usband gives you up our own bed, sir!"]

* * * * *

_Fair Hostess_ (_on hospitable thoughts intent_). "Oh, I'm _so_ glad!"]

* * * * *

_Indiscreet Sister._ "Why, Harry, your legs are getting more _Chippendale_ than ever!"]

* * * * *

_Traveller._ "I say, your razor's pulling most confoundedly!"

_Local Torturer._ "Be it, zur? Wull, 'old on tight to the chair, an' we'll get it off zummow!"]

* * * * *

_Rustic_ (_bewildered_). "Dunno."

_Second Artist_ (_tired_). "But we can get beds there, I suppose? Where do travellers generally go?"

_Rustic._ "Go to the union moostly!"]

* * * * *

_Cotton-Man_ (_fro' Shoddydale_). "What dun yo' co' that wayter?"

_Coachman._ "Ah, ain't it beautiful? That's Grassmere Lake, that is----"

_Cotton-Man._ "Yo' co'n 'um all la-akes an' meres i' these pa-arts. We co'n 'um rezzer-voyers where ah com' fro'!!"]

* * * * *

Would the epigrammatic translation of "_sede vacanti_" as "Not well and gone away for a holiday" be accepted by an examiner?

* * * * *

WINTER RESORT FOR BRONCHIALLY-AFFECTED PERSONS.--Corfe Castle.

* * * * *

_Gaffer Stokes._ "Ah, Oi'd main loike to see Lunnon, Oi wud. Reckon Oi must go afore Oi'm done for. _Now which moight be their busy day there,_ mister?"]

* * * * *

TO INTENDING TOURISTS--"Where shall we go?" All depends on the "coin of 'vantage." Switzerland? Question of money. Motto.--_"Point d'argent point de Suisse."_

* * * * *

SCENE--_On the Quay. Ocean liner's syren fog-horn emitting short, sharp grunts._

_Little Girl._ Oh, mamma, that _poor_ ship must have a drefful pain in its cabin!

* * * * *

WASTED SYMPATHY.--SCENE--_Interior of Railway Carriage. Lady_ (_to gentleman who has just entered and is placing one of his fellow passenger's bags on the floor where there is a hot-water bottle_). Oh! Excuse me, sir, but, _please_ don't put _that_ near the hot-water bottle. I've got a little bird in the bag.

_Elderly Gentleman_ (_who is an enthusiastic Anti-Vivisectionist and prominent member of the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals_). Good Heavens, madam! a bird in there! Please consider! How cruel! how inhuman! how----(_gasps for words_).

_Lady._ Not at all, my dear sir. _It's a roast partridge, cold, for lunch._

[_Collapse of Enthusiast._

* * * * *

UNPLEASANTLY SUGGESTIVE NAMES OF "CURE" PLACES ABROAD.--_Bad Gastein._ Which must be worse than the first day's sniff at Bad-Eggs-la-Chapelle.

* * * * *

ROTATORY KNIFE (AND FORK) MACHINES.--Pullman dining cars.

* * * * *

THE LINE WHICH IS OFTEN DRAWN.--The Equator.

* * * * *

_Guide._ "Oh no, monsieur."

_Tourist._ "Well, see here. We want to see everything, but we don't want to see anything twice!"]

* * * * *

_Captain Jinks_ (_untravelled athlete_). "No!! What, have they got one there too!!"]

* * * * *

"How's that?"

"My poor old governor's taken ill there!"

"Going by Dieppe or Boulogne?"

"Rather think I shall go _via Monaco_!"]

* * * * *

_Sympathiser._ "Sorry you look so seedy after your holiday, old chap!"

_Too Energetic Sight-seer._ "Well, I am a bit done up, but the doctor says that with rest and great care I may be well enough to have a run-round as usual next year."]

* * * * *

_Mr. Dunk_ (_deliberately, after considering awhile_). "_Very_ nice!"]

* * * * *

* * * * *

A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE.--_Miss Tomboy._ Mamma, I think those French women were beastly rude.

_Mother._ You mustn't speak like that of those ladies, it's very wrong. And how often have I told you not to say "beastly"?

_Miss Tomboy._ Well, they _were_ rude. They called me a little cabbage (_mon petit chou_). The next time they do that I shall call them old French beans.

* * * * *

* * * * *

DE GUSTIBUS----

I am an unadventurous man,
And always go upon the plan
Of shunning danger where I can.

And so I fail to understand
Why every year a stalwart band
Of tourists go to Switzerland,

And spend their time for several weeks,
With quaking hearts and pallid cheeks,
Scaling abrupt and windy peaks.

In fact, I'm old enough to find
Climbing of almost any kind
Is very little to my mind.

A mountain summit white with snow
Is an attractive sight, I know,
But why not see it _from below_?

Why leave the hospitable plain
And scale Mont Blanc with toil and pain
Merely to scramble down again?

Some men pretend they think it bliss
To clamber up a precipice
Or dangle over an abyss,

To crawl along a mountain side,
Supported by a rope that's tied,
--Not too securely--to a guide;

But such pretences, it is clear,
In the aspiring mountaineer
Are usually insincere.

And many a climber, I'll be bound,
Whom scarped and icy crags surround,
Wishes himself on level ground.

So I, for one, do not propose,
To cool my comfortable toes
In regions of perpetual snows,

As long as I can take my ease,
Fanned by a soothing southern breeze,
Under the shade of English trees.

And anyone who leaves my share
Of English fields and English air
May take the Alps for aught I care!

* * * * *

SPORT MOST APPROPRIATE TO THE LOCALITY.--Shooting pigeons at Monte Carlo.

* * * * *

PLEASURE A LA RUSSE.--_Q._ When does a Russian give a Polish peasant a holiday?

_A._ When he gives him _a kn_outing.

* * * * *

THE CRY OF THE HOLIDAY-LOVING CLERK.--"Easterward Ho!"

* * * * *

A DISH THAT DISAGREES WITH MOST PERSONS WHEN TRAVELLING.--The Chops of the Channel.

* * * * *

THE GREATEST BORE IN CREATION.--The Simplon Tunnel.

* * * * *

Jack took his motor car of course.

Maud and Ethel started on a Biking Tour.

Pater preferred "Cooks".

"My Dear Sir, I tell you there is not a city in the whole of Europe that is a patch upon Florence. Why I found the finest English chemists there that I have come across in all my travels."

Mater had "quiet time" in Devonshire.

Bob went canoeing.

While Mary Ann says 'Give me good ole Margit'.]

* * * * *

_Farmer._ "Sart'nly, sir. 'May be very int'restin' an' arnshunt, but we do stick 'em oup for the cattle, an' call 'em roubbin' pusts!!"]

* * * * *

_Smithson._ "A--a--isn't he--a--a--hadn't I better help you to pull at him?"

_Driver._ "Pull at 'im? Why yer'd set 'im crazed! Jist you let me keep is 'ead straight. Lor' bless yer, there ain't no cause to be affeared, as long as we don't meet nothing, and the gates ain't shut at Splinterbone crossing, jist round the bend."]

* * * * *

_Flippant Youth._ "Yes, the path is--but I can't answer for _you_!"]

* * * * *

* * * * *

_Village Dame._ "Lor' bless 'ee, why there's the beautiful new recr'ation ground as we've just 'ad made!"]

* * * * *

_High-Church Priest_ (_"turning up" suddenly out of the vestry_), "I beg your pardon, gentlemen, but I can't allow my church to be used for a secular purpose. You'll find an unconsecrated weathercock on the barn yonder!"]

* * * * *

_Verger._ "Weel, sir, there's a guid wheen veesitors in Inverness the noo: so sit whaur ye can see yer umbrella!"]

* * * * *

TIPS FOR TRAVELLERS

Toddlekins is anxious to take his family to Mars this summer, and inquires where he can hire a speedy balloon for the purpose. He is anxious to know whether he can obtain golf there, and also whether the roads are good for bicycling. He is recommended to apply for information to the Astronomer-Royal. But why should Toddlekins trouble to go so far afield? He would be sure to find congenial society in the neighbourhood of Hanwell, and by selecting this spot as his destination, the expense of a return ticket would be saved.

ANXIOUS MOTHER.--So glad that you intend taking your dear ten children to Poppleton-on-Sea for three weeks' change of air. And all that you tell me about Timothy's pet rabbit and Selina's last attack of measles is so deeply interesting. Unfortunately I cannot answer all your questions myself, but I will print them here, so that some of my kind readers may be able to assist you. You want to know, in regard to Poppleton--

(1) Whether the pavements (if any) are stone or asphalte.

(2) What is the mean temperature, the annual rain-fall, and the death-rate.

(3) What are the Rector's "views," and if there is a comfortable pew in the church, out of draughts, calculated to hold eleven.

(4) What time the shops at Poppleton close on Saturdays.

DUBIOUS.--As you say, it _is_ difficult to make up one's mind where to spend the holidays, because there are so many places from which to choose. And you were so wise to write and ask me to give you the name of one single place which I could thoroughly recommend, and so save you all further worry. How about Brighton, Hastings, Eastbourne, Bexhill, Seaford, Cowes, Weymouth, Exmouth, Penzance, Lynton, or Tenby? I am delighted to give you this real and valuable help!

PICNIC-PARTY.--You have my full sympathy. It is most churlish of riparian owners to refuse to allow strangers to land on their property. Fancy any one objecting to having his lawn covered with broken bottles and paper bags!

OWNER.--I feel deeply for you. The way in which trippers on the river invade riverside gardens is outrageous. The bags and pieces of glass they leave about must be a gross disfigurement to your lawn.

* * * * *

* * * * *

_Old Salt._ "'Alf ebb."]

* * * * *

A MOUNTAIN RAMBLER

(_By a Returned Traveller_)

I've scanned and penned an Ode on
Thy snowy glories, Snowdon
My honeymoon with Helen,
Was spent near "dark" Helvellyn,
Afar from all the _beau monde_
I've rambled round Ben Lomond,
At noontide on Ben Nevis,
I've roved and read _Sir Bevis_,
I've stretched each tired thin limb on
Thy summit, O Plinlimmon,
And once I tore my breeks
On Macgillycuddy's Reeks.
Those glorious mountain scalps,
The tiptops of the Alps,
I've seen--their pines and passes,
Their glaciers and crevasses--
With fools, philosophers and wits,
I've scrambled up the Ortler Spitz,
Made sketches on St. Gothard,
Like Turner and like Stothard,
And with my _cara sposa_
Ascended Monte Rosa:
But not content with Europe,
I've roamed with staff and new rope
As far away as Ararat,
Where _savants_ say there's ne'er a rat;
The Kuen Lun and Thian Shan
I know as well as any man;
I've boiled my evening kettle
On Popocatapetl,
And on the highest Andes
I've sodas mixed and brandies;
I've slumbered snug and cosey
On silvery Potosi;
I've stood on Peter Botto,
A rather lonely spot;
And--crowning feat of all
My mountaineerings on this ball--
I've smoked--O weed for ever blest!
My pipe upon Mount Everest.
And now my ramble's over,
Here's Shakspeare's Cliff and Dover!
All Alpine risks and chances,
All Ultramontane fancies,
I've put away and done with;
I'll stay my wife and son with,
And never more will roam
From Primrose Hill and home.

* * * * *

_The Village Toper._ "Oi wouldn't like to be saying wut a gen'leman loike ye wud be doin'; but Oi'm parfect sartin Oi shouldn't!"]

* * * * *

"Eh? What? What do you say?"

"I say Tom, do you think your key will fit my bag?"

"_No_--'t won't--Chubb!"

[_Objurgations, and midnight disturber retires._

]

* * * * *

"Oh, immensely! It was our first visit, you know!"

"And did you go on into Italy?"

"Well, no. We found a hotel at Lausanne where there was a first-rate tennis-lawn, you know--quite as good as ours at home. So we spent the whole of our holiday there, and played lawn-tennis all day long."]

* * * * *

_The Professor_ (_who has just come back from the North Pole)._ "---- and the fauna of these inhospitable regions is as poor as the flora! You couldn't name a dozen animals who manage to live there."

_Mrs. Malapert._ "Oh--I dare say I could!"

_The Professor._ "Really--what _are_ they?"

_Mrs. Malapert._ "Well, now--five polar bears, let us say, and--and seven seals!"]

* * * * *

_Obliging Hostess._ "Oh, yes, sir."

_First Traveller._ "Have you--er--any--er--_insects_ in this house?"

_Obliging Hostess._ "No, sir. _But we can get you some!"_]

* * * * *

* * * * *

_Jones._ (_Returning to England_). "We are quite fifty miles from the Scilly Isles, Miss Brown. They say the odour of the flowers they cultivate there travels that distance over the sea. I can detect it distinctly now--can't you?"

_Miss Brown_ (_from America_). "I guess it hasn't _quite_ reached me yet, Mr. Jones!"]

* * * * *

_She._ "Ah, I dare say there _may_ be two or three nice people amongst millions!"]

* * * * *

_Mrs. Sharp_ (_innocently_). "And what do the--a--_South Danubians_ say, Mr. Shoddy?"]

* * * * *

_Traveller_ (_as a gentle hint to previous arrival_). "_Another fire_, waiter!"]

* * * * *

_Young American Bride._ "Why, yes; we'd just love to go. George and I will be furnishing as soon as we get back to Noo York, and maybe we'd be able to pick up a few notions over at this villa."]

* * * * *

_Pompous Magnate_ (_making speech at public luncheon in provincial town_). "Speaking of travel reminds me how greatly I have admired the scenery round Lake Geneva, and also what pleasant times I have spent in the neighbourhood of Lake Leman."

_Cultured Neighbour_ (_in audible whisper_). "Pardon me, but the two places are synonymous."

_P. M._ (_patronisingly_). "Ah! So _you_ may think, sir--so _you_ may think! But, from my point of view, I consider Lake Geneva to be far the most synonymous of the two."]

* * * * *

"Hurrah! By George! that's the best piece of news I've had for a long time."]

* * * * *

"I'm not rubbing it _out_, mammy--I'm rubbing it _in_!"]

* * * * *

A COWES WEEK EXPERIENCE

_Monday._--Dear old Bluewater--what a good fellow he is!--asks me to join his yacht, the _Sudden Jerk_, for Cowes week. Never been yachting before.

_Tuesday._--Arrive Ryde Pier, correctly (I hope) "got up"; blue serge, large brass anchor buttons, and peaked cap. Fancy Bluewater rather surprised to see how _au fait_ I am at nautical dress. "Ah! my dear fellow, delighted to see you. Come along; the gig is lying alongside the steps. One of the hands" (why "hands"?) "shall look to your traps." We scramble into gig and are rowed out to 50-ton yawl. Climb up side. Bluewater says, "Come below. Take care--two steps down, then turn round and---- Oh! by Jove! what a crack you've caught your head. Never mind, old boy, you'll soon get accustomed to it." Devoutly hope I shall _not_ get accustomed to knocking my head. Arrive at foot of "companion" (why "companion"?) stairs. Bluewater pulls aside curtains and says, "_There_ you are!" Reply, "Oh! yes, there I am. Er--is--do you lie on the shelf--oh! berth, is it!--beg pardon--or underneath it?" He explains. "You'll find it very jolly, you know; you can lie in your bunk, and look right up the companion to the sky above." "Oh! awfully jolly," I say. We repair on deck. Get under weigh to run down to Cowes. Dear old Bluewater very active. Pulls at ropes and things, shouting "leggo-your-spinach-and-broom,"[A] and other unintelligible war-cries. Stagger across deck. Breeze very fresh. "Lee oh!" shouts Bluewater; "mind the broom!"--or it might have been boom--and next moment am knocked flat on my back by enormous pole.

Arrive Cowes. Crowd of yachts. Drop anchor for night. Go below, damp face in tiny iron basin; yacht lurches and rolls all the water out over new white shoes. Enter saloon, tripping over some one's kit-bag at the door. Try to save myself by clutching at swing-table, which upsets and empties soup tureen all over my trousers. Retire, change, return. Host and I sit down and proceed to chase fried soles backwards and forwards across treacherous swing-table. "_Now_, my dear fellow isn't this jolly? Isn't this worth all your club dinners?" Reply "Oh, yes," enthusiastically. Privately, should prefer club in London. Weather gets worse. Try to smoke. Don't seem to care for smoking, somehow. Feel depressed, and ask dear old Bluewater to describe a sailor's grave. Tries to cheer me up by saying, "Don't waste the precious moments, my friend, on such sad subjects. You are not born to fill a seaman's grave. There's a class of man not born to be drowned, you know." Then he laughs heartily. Try to smile; fail. Pitching and rocking motion increases. Retire early and lie down on shelf. Fall off twice. Manage to reach perch again. Weather gets worse. Shall never sleep with noise of trampling on deck and waves washing yacht's sides. Shall never---- Sudden misgiving. _Am_ I going to be----? Oh! no, must be passing dizziness. It cannot possibly be.... IT IS!!!

Am rowed ashore, bag and baggage, next morning. Dear old Bluewater tries to keep me from going, and says, "What, after all, _is_ sea-sickness?" Dear old Bluewater must be an ass. Confound old Bluewater!

[Footnote A: Qy. spinnaker boom.--ED.]

* * * * *

_Head of Family._ "I reckon some of us'll have to stand, or we shan't all get seats!"]

* * * * *

_Mrs. Brown._ "I had such a lovely bathe last Thursday, dear."

_Niece._ "That was the day of the tidal wave, wasn't it, Auntie?"]

* * * * *

* * * * *

_Simple Little Native._ "Through this 'ere 'ole!"]

* * * * *

_Yokel._ "Oi dunno, zur. Oi only bin 'ere a month!"]

* * * * *

_Fair Yankee_ (_in Egypt_). "I say, uncle, can yew tell me, air there ever any new camels? I guess all I've seen must be second-hand!"]

* * * * *

AN UNCONGENIAL SPOT FOR TEETOTALERS.--Barmouth.

* * * * *

A MAN WHO BEATS ABOUT THE BUSH.--An Australian.

* * * * *

_Stout Party._ "Hi! boy, stop! I'm going to get off."

_Donkey Boy._ "Yer carn't, marm. There ain't room!"]

* * * * *

_Verger._ "Ay, that they do, odd times. Why, I catched some of 'em at it only last Toosday!"]

* * * * *

* * * * *

HOLIDAY FARE IN CORNWALL

A Roll on the billow,
A Loaf by the shore,
A Fig for fashion,
And Cream galore!

* * * * *

THE ROAD TO THE NIAGARA FALLS.--_Via Dollarosa._

* * * * *

WHERE THE FELLAH'S SHOE PINCHES.--Where the corn used to be--in Egypt.

* * * * *

* * * * *

BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.

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