Part 4

_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."]

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[Illustration: _Stout Party._ "Is this path safe?"

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

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[Illustration: "Will you 'urry up paintin' that tree, sir? Cause I'm goin' to cut it down in a quarter of an hour."]

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[Illustration: _Tourist_ (_in search of "the unique," after admiring old cottage_). "Is there anything else to look at in the village?"

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

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[Illustration: A PASTORAL REBUKE.--_First Pedestrian_ (_they've lost their way_), "Look here. This must be the east, mustn't it? There's the chancel window--that's always east; then the south must be----"

_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!"]

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[Illustration: _Visitor._ "Will you tell me where I shall find a seat?"

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

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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.

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[Illustration: INTRODUCTION MADE EASY.--_Invalid-Chair Attendant._ "If you should have a fancy for any partickler party, I can easily bump 'em."]

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[Illustration: _Miss Binns_ (_breathless, hurrying to catch London train after week-end trip_). "Can you please tell me the _exact_ time?"

_Old Salt._ "'Alf ebb."]

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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.

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[Illustration: THE FESTIVE SEASON.--_Visitor to the District_ (_who has missed his way_). "Can you tell me, my good man, if I shall pass the 'Red Lion' inn along this road?"

_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!"]

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[Illustration: QUEEN'S HOTEL, AMBLESIDE, 3 O'CLOCK, A.M.--"Tom!" (_No response._) "I say, Tom!" (_No answer._) "Tom!" (_A muffled grunt._) "Tom--Fire!"

"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._

]

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[Illustration: OUR COMPATRIOTS ABROAD.--"And how did you like Switzerland?"

"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."]

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[Illustration: AGGRAVATING FLIPPANCY

_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!"]

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[Illustration: _First Traveller._ "Can we have beds here to-night?"

_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!"_]

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[Illustration: _Lady_ (_to her travelling companion, who has just had his finger-nail pinched badly_). "How horrid! I always think anything wrong with one's nails sets one's teeth on edge all down one's back!"]

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[Illustration: NEARING THE ENGLISH COAST

_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!"]

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[Illustration: ON A CERTAIN CONDESCENSION IN FOREIGNERS.--_He._ "Oh, you're from America, are you? People often say to me, 'Don't you dislike Americans?' But I always say 'I believe there are some very nice ones among them.'"

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

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[Illustration: OUR COUNTRYMEN ABROAD.--_Mr. Shoddy._ "_I_ always say, Mrs. Sharp, that I never feel really safe from the ubiquitous British snob till I am south of the Danube!"

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

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[Illustration: _Waiter._ "Did you ring, Sir?"

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

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[Illustration: _Mr. Smith._ "Oh, I was wondering whether you and your husband would care to accompany our party to Hadrian's Villa to-morrow?"

_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."]

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[Illustration: UNANSWERABLE

_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."]

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[Illustration: "IT'S AN ILL WIND," &c.--"Oh, papa! what _do_ you think? Four out of our twelve boxes are missing."

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

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[Illustration: AN EPICURE.--"Oh, George, I'm ashamed of you--rubbing your lips like that, after that dear little French girl has given you a kiss!"

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

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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.]

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[Illustration: THE EXCURSION.

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

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[Illustration: CAUSE AND EFFECT

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

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

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[Illustration: How Stonehenge might be popularised if the Government bought it. Suggestion gratis.]

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[Illustration: _Full-sized Tripper._ "How does one get into the churchyard, please?"

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

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[Illustration: _Walking Tourist._ "What's the name of this village, my man?"

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

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[Illustration: THE OLD WORLD AND THE NEW

_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!"]

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AN UNCONGENIAL SPOT FOR TEETOTALERS.--Barmouth.

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

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[Illustration: "IN PERIL OF PRECIPITATION"--_Coriolanus_, iii. 3.

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

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

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[Illustration: DETECTED.--_Clerical Tourist_ (_visiting cathedral_). "Always open, eh? And do you find that people come here on week-days for rest and meditation?"

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

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[Illustration: _Old Lady._ "Well, if that's David, what a size Goliath must a' been."]

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HOLIDAY FARE IN CORNWALL

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

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

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

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[Illustration: FINIS]

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

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