III.

I'm sick of the strand, and the sand, and the band, And the niggers and jiggers and dodgers; And the cigars of rather doubtful brand; And my landlady's "rights", And the frequent fights On wretched points Of ends of joints, Which disappear, with my brandy and beer, In a way that, to say the least, is queer. And to mingle among the throng I long, And to poke my joke and warble my song-- But there's no one near On sands or pier, For everyone's gone and I'm left alone, The Last of the Seaside Lodgers!

* * * * *

[Illustration: FILEY]

* * * * *

NOTE BY OUR MAN OUT OF TOWN--Watering places--resorts where the visitor is pumped dry.

* * * * *

[Illustration: A STARTLING PROPOSITION

_Seedy Individual_ (_suddenly and with startling vigour_)--

"Aoh! Floy with me ercross ther sea, Ercross ther dork lergoon!!"

]

* * * * *

[Illustration: CROWDED STATE OF LODGING HOUSES

_Lodging-House Keeper._ "On'y this room to let, mem. A four-post--a tent--and a very comfortable double-bedded chest of drawers for the young gentlemen."]

* * * * *

A WET DAY AT THE SEASIDE

Why does not some benefactor to his species discover and publish to a grateful world some rational way of spending a wet day at the seaside? Why should it be something so unutterably miserable and depressing that its mere recollection afterwards makes one shudder?

This is the first really wet day that we have had for a fortnight, but what a day! From morn to dewy eve, a summer's day, and far into the black night, the pitiless rain has poured and poured and poured. I broke the unendurable monotony of gazing from the weeping windows of my seaside lodging, by rushing out wildly and plunging madly into the rainy sea, and got drenched to the skin both going and returning. After changing everything, as people say but don't mean, and thinking I saw something like a break in the dull leaden clouds, I again rushed out, and called on Jones, who has rooms in an adjacent terrace, and, with some difficulty, persuaded him to accompany me to the only billiard table in the miserable place. We both got gloriously wet on our way to this haven of amusement, and were received with the pleasing intelligence that it was engaged by a private party of two, who had taken it until the rain ceased, and, when that most improbable event happened, two other despairing lodgers had secured the reversion. Another rush home, another drenching, another change of everything, except the weather, brought the welcome sight of dinner, over which we fondly lingered for nearly two mortal hours.

But one cannot eat all day long, even at the seaside on a wet day, and accordingly at four o'clock I was again cast upon my own resources. I received, I confess, a certain amount of grim satisfaction at seeing Brown--Bumptious Brown, as we call him in the City, he being a common councilman, or a liveryman, or something of that kind--pass by in a fly, with heaps of luggage and children, all looking so depressingly wet,--and if he had not the meanness to bring with him, in a half-dozen hamper, six bottles of his abominable Gladstone claret! He grinned at me as he passed, like a Chester cat, I think they call that remarkable animal, and I afterwards learnt the reason. He had been speculating for a rise in wheat, and, as he vulgarly said, the rain suited his book, and he only hoped it would last for a week or two! Ah! the selfishness of some men! What cared he about my getting wet through twice in one day, so long as it raised the price of his wretched wheat?

My wife coolly recommended me to read the second volume of a new novel she had got from the Library, called, I think, _East Glynne_, or some such name, but how can a man read in a room with four stout healthy boys and a baby, especially when the said baby is evidently very uncomfortable, and the four boys are playing at leap-frog? Women have this wonderful faculty, my wife to a remarkable extent. I have often, with unfeigned astonishment, seen her apparently lost in the sentimental troubles of some imaginary heroine, while the noisy domestic realities around her have gone on unheeded.

I again took my place at the window, and gazed upon the melancholy sea, and remembered, with a smile of bitter irony, how I had agreed to pay an extra guinea a week for the privilege of facing the sea!--and such a sea! It was, of course, very low water--it generally is at this charming place; and the sea had retired to its extremest distance, as if utterly ashamed of its dull, damp, melancholy appearance. And there stood that ridiculous apology for a pier, with its long, lanky, bandy legs, on which I have been dragged every evening to hear the band play. Such a band! The poor wheezy cornet was bad enough, but the trombone, with its two notes that it jerked out like the snorts of a starting train, was a caution. Oh! that poor "_Sweetheart_", with which we were favoured every evening! I always pictured her to myself sitting at a window listening, enraptured, to a serenade from that trombone!

But there's no band to-night, not a solitary promenader on the bandy-legged pier, I even doubt if the pier master is sitting as usual at the receipt of custom, and I pull down the blind, to shut out the miserable prospect, with such an energetic jerk that I bring down the whole complicated machinery, and nearly frighten baby into a fit, while the four irreverent boys indulge in a loud guffaw.

Thank goodness, on Saturday I exchange our miserable, wheezy, asthmatic band for the grand orchestra of the Covent Garden Promenade Concerts, and the awful perfume of rotten seaweed for the bracing atmosphere of glorious London.

AN OUTSIDER.

* * * * *

[Illustration: BOATMAN SECURING A LIVELY-HOOD]

* * * * *

[Illustration: ON HIS HONEYMOON TOO!

_Man with Sand Ponies._ "Now then, Mister, you an' the young lady, a pony apiece? 'Ere y'are!"

_Snobley_ (_loftily_). "Aw--I'm not accustomed to that class of animal."

_Man_ (_readily_). "Ain't yer, sir? Ne' mind." (_To boy._) "'Ere, Bill, look sharp! Gent'll have a donkey!"]

* * * * *

SEASIDE SPLITTERS

[Illustration:

LOW-TIED

ROCKS

SEE-WEED

MUSCLE GATHERERS

A KNAW WESTER

HIGH TIED]

* * * * *

[Illustration: LIFE WOULD BE PLEASANT, BUT FOR ITS "PLEASURES."--_Sir Cornewall Lewis_

In consequence of the English watering-places being crowded, people are glad to find sleeping accommodation in the bathing-machines.

_Boots_ (_from Jones's Hotel_). "I've brought your shaving water, sir; and you'll please to take care of your boots on the steps, gents: the tide's just a comin' in!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: RETURNING HOME FROM THE SEASIDE

All the family have colds, except the under-nurse, who has a face-ache. Poor materfamilias, who originated the trip, is in despair at all the money spent for nothing, and gives way to tears. Paterfamilias endeavours to console her with the reflection that "_he_ knew how it would be, but that, after all, St. John's Wood, where they live, is such a healthy place that, with care and doctoring, they _will soon be nearly as well as if they had never left it_!"

[_Two gay bachelors may be seen contemplating paterfamilias and his little group. Their interest is totally untinged with envy._

]

* * * * *

[Illustration: OVERHEARD AT SCARBOROUGH

"Do you know anything good for a cold?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"Have you got the price of two Scotch whiskies on you?"

"No."

"Then it's no use my telling you."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Snobson_ (_to inhabitant of out-of-way seaside resort_). "What sort of people do you get down here in the summer?"

_Inhabitant._ "Oh, all sorts, zur. There be fine people an' common people, an' some just half-an'-half, like yourself, zur."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE OYSTERS AT WHITSTABLE FROZEN IN THEIR BEDS!

(_See Daily Papers_)]

* * * * *

[Illustration: A DELICIOUS DIP.

_Bathing Attendant._ "Here, Bill! The gent wants to be took out deep--take 'im _into the drain_!!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _She._ "How much was old Mr. Baskerville's estate sworn at by his next-of-kin?"

_He._ "Oh--a pretty good lot."

_She._ "Really? Why, I heard he died worth hardly anything!"

_He._ "Yes, so he did--that's just it."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: EVIDENCE OLFACTORY

_Angelina_ (_scientific_). "Do you smell the iodine from the sea, Edwin? Isn't it refreshing?"

_Old Salt_ (_overhearing_). "What you smell ain't the sea, miss. It's the town drains as flows out just 'ere!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: OBLIGING.

_Excursionist_ (_to himself_). "Ullo! 'ere's one o' them artists. 'Dessay 'e'll want a genteel figger for 'is foreground. I'll _stand for 'im_!!!"]

* * * * *

TRUE DIPSOMANIA.--Overbathing at the seaside.

* * * * *

AN IDLE HOLIDAY.

When the days are bright and hot, In the month of August, When the sunny hours are not Marred by any raw gust, Then I turn from toil with glee, Sing a careless canto, And to somewhere by the sea Carry my portmanteau.

Shall I, dreaming on the sand, Pleased with all things finite, Envy Jones who travels and Climbs an Apennine height-- Climbs a rugged peak with pain, Literally speaking, Only to descend again Fagged with pleasure-seeking?

Smith, who, worn with labour, went Off for rest and leisure, Races round the Continent In pursuit of pleasure: Having lunched at Bale, he will At Lucerne his tea take, Riding till he's faint and ill, Tramping till his feet ache.

Shall I, dreaming thus at home, Left ashore behind here, Envy restless men who roam Seeking what I find here? Since beside my native sea, Where I sit to woo it, Pleasure always comes to me, Why should I pursue it?

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE MURMUR OF THE TIED]

* * * * *

EXTRA SPECIAL.--_Paterfamilias_ (_inspecting bill, to landlady_). I thought you said, Mrs. Buggins, when I took these apartments, that there were no extras, but here I find boots, lights, cruets, fire, table-linen, sheets, blankets and kitchen fire charged.

_Mrs. Buggins._ Lor' bless you, sir, they're not extras, but necessaries.

_Paterfamilias._ What, then, do you consider extras?

_Mrs. Buggins._ Well, sir, that's a difficult question to answer, but I should suggest salad oil, fly-papers, and turtle soup.

[_Paterfamilias drops the subject and pays his account._

* * * * *

[Illustration: SUSPICION

_Stout Visitor_ (_on discovering that, during his usual nap after luncheon, he has been subjected to a grossly personal practical joke_). "It's one o' those dashed artists that are staying at the 'Lord Nelson' 'a' done this, I know!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Aunt Jane._ "It's wonderful how this wireless telegraphy is coming into use!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: A DREAM OF THE SEA

Ethel, who is not to have a seaside trip this year, dreams every night that she and her mamma and aunt and sisters spread their sash-bows and panniers and fly away to the yellow sands.]

* * * * *

THE MARGATE BATHING-WOMAN'S LAMENT

It nearly broke my widowed art, When first I tuk the notion, That parties didn't as they used, Take reglar to the ocean.

The hinfants, darling little soles, Still cum quite frequent, bless 'em! But they is only sixpence each, Which hardly pays to dress 'em.

The reason struck me all at once, Says I, "It's my opinion, The grown-up folks no longer bathes Because of them vile Sheenions."

The last as cum drest in that style, Says, as she tuk it horf her, "I'm sure I shall not know the way To re-arrange my quoffur!"

By which she ment the ed of air, Which call it wot they will, sir; Cum doubtless off a convict at Millbank or Pentonville, sir.

The Parliament should pass a law, Which there's sufficient reason; That folks as wear the Sheenions should Bathe reg'lar in the season.

* * * * *

[Illustration: A LANCASHIRE WATERING-PLACE]

* * * * *

"MERRY MARGIT"

(_Another communication from the side of the dear sea waves_)

I was told it was greatly improved--that there were alterations in the sea-front suggestive of the best moments of the Thames Embankment--that quite "smart" people daily paraded the pier. So having had enough of "Urn-bye", I moved on. The improvements scarcely made themselves felt at the railway station. Seemingly they had not attracted what Mr. Jeames would call "the upper suckles." There were the customary British middle-class matron from Peckham, looking her sixty summers to the full in a sailor hat; the seaside warrior first cousin to the billiard-marker captain with flashy rings, beefy hands, and a stick of pantomime proportions, and the theatrical lady whose connection with the stage I imagine was confined to capering before the footlights. However, they all were there, as I had seen them any summer these twenty years.

But I had been told to go to the Pier, and so to the Pier I went, glancing on my way at the entertainers on the sands, many of whom I found to be old friends. Amongst them was the "h"-less phrenologist, whose insight into character apparently satisfied the parents of any child whose head he selected to examine. Thus, if he said that a

## particularly stupid-looking little boy would make a good architect,

schoolmaster, or traveller for fancy goods, a gentleman in an alpaca-coat and a wide-awake hat would bow gratified acquiescence, a demonstration that would also be evoked from a lady in a dust cloak, when the lecturer insisted that a giggling little girl would make a "first-rate dressmaker and cutter-out."

Arrived at the Pier, I found there was twopence to pay for the privilege of using the extension, which included a restaurant, a band, some talented fleas, and a shop with a window partly devoted to the display of glass tumblers, engraved with legends of an amusing character, such as "Good old Mother-in-Law", "Jack's Night Cap", "Aunt Julia's Half Pint", and so on. There were a number of seats and shelters, and below the level of the shops was a landing-stage, at which twice a day two steamers from or to London removed or landed passengers. During the rest of the four-and-twenty hours it seemed to be occupied by a solitary angler, catching chiefly seaweed. The Band, in spite of its uniform, was not nearly so military as that at "Urn Bye." It contained a pianoforte--an instrument upon which I found the young gentleman who sold the programmes practising during a pause between the morning's selection and the afternoon's performances. But still the Band was a very tuneful one, and increased the pleasure that the presence of so many delightful promenaders was bound to produce. Many of the ladies who walked round and round, talking courteously to 'Arry in all his varieties, wore men's _habits_, _pur et simple_ (giving them the semblance of appearing in their shirt-sleeves), while their heads were adorned with fair wigs and sailor hats, apparently fixed on together.

These free-and-easy-looking damsels did not seem to find favour in the eyes of certain other ladies of a sedater type, who regarded them (over their novels) with undisguised contempt. These other ladies, I should think, from their conversation and appearance, must have been the very flowers of the flock of Brixton Rise, and the _creme de la creme_ of Peckham Rye society. Of course there were a number of more or less known actors and actresses from London, some of them enjoying a brief holiday, and others engaged in the less lucrative occupation of "resting."

However, the dropping of "h's", even to the accompaniment of sweet music, sooner or later becomes monotonous, and so, after awhile, I was glad to leave the Pier for the attractions of the Upper Cliff. On my way I passed a Palace of Pleasure or Varieties, or Something wherein a twopenny wax-work show seemed at the moment to be one of its greatest attractions. This show contained a Chamber of Horrors, a scene full of quiet humour of Napoleon the Third Lying in State, and an old effigy of George the Third. The collection included the waxen head of a Nonconformist minister, who, according to the lecturer, had been "wery good to the poor", preserved in a small deal-box. There was also the "Key-Dyevie" of Egypt, General Gordon, and Mrs. Maybrick. Tearing myself away from these miscellaneous memories of the past, I ascended to the East Cliff, which had still the "apartments-furnished" look that was wont to distinguish it of yore. There was no change there; and as I walked through the town, which once, as a watering-place, was second only in importance to Bath,--which a century ago had for its M.C. a rival of Beau Nash,--I could not help thinking how astonished the ghosts of the fine ladies and gentlemen who visited "Meregate" in 1789 must be, if they are able to see their successors of to-day--"Good Old Chawlie Cadd", and Miss Topsie Stuart Plantagenet, _nee_ Tompkins.

* * * * *

[Illustration: DEAL]

* * * * *

[Illustration: "NICE FOR THE VISITORS"

(Sketch outside a fashionable hotel)]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Boy_ (_to Brown, who is exceedingly proud of his sporting appearance_). "Want a donkey, mister?"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: INCORRIGIBLE

_Visitor._ "Well, my man, I expect it must have cost you a lot of money to paint your nose that colour!"

_Reprobate._ "Ah, an' if Oi cud affoord it, Oi'd have it _varnished_ now!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: "NO ACCOUNTING FOR TASTE"

_Materfamilias_ (_just arrived at Shrimpville--the children had been down a month before_). "Well, Jane, have you found it dull?"

_Nurse._ "It was at fust, M'm. There was nothink to improve the mind, M'm, till the niggers come down!!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: BY THE SAD SEA WAVES

"But, are you sure?"

"Yus, lady. 'E's strong as an 'orse!"

"But how am I to get on?"

"Oh, _I'll lift yer_!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: DELICATE ATTENTION

_Confiding Spinster._ "I'm afraid the sea is too cold for me this morning, Mr. Swabber."

_Bathing Man._ "Cold, miss! Lor' bless yer, I just took and powered a kittle o' bilin' water in to take the chill off when I see you a comin'!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: HOLIDAY PLEASURES

_Injured Individual._ "Heigho! I _did_ think I should find some refuge from the miseries of the seaside in the comforts of a bed! Just look where my feet are, Maria!"

_His Wife._ "_Well_, John! it's _only_ for a _month_, you know!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: BLIGHTED HOPES

_Extract of letter from Laura to Lillie_:--"I declare, dear, I never gave the absurd creature the slightest encouragement. I did say, one evening, I thought the little sandy coves about Wobbleswick were charming, especially one. _The idea!_--of his thinking I was alluding to him!"----&c., &c.]

* * * * *

[Illustration: SENSITIVE

"I think I told you, in my letter of the first of October, of his absurd interpretation of an innocent remark of mine about the sandy shores of Wobbleswick. Well, would you believe it, dear! we were strolling on the Esplanade, the other day, when he suddenly left Kate and me, and took himself off in a tremendous huff because we said we liked walking _with an object_!!"

[_Extract from a later letter of Laura's to Lillie._

]

* * * * *

[Illustration: PREHISTORIC PEEPS

"No bathing to-day!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: PREHISTORIC PEEPS

A Nocturne which would seem to show that "residential flats" were not wholly unknown even in primeval times!]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Blinks._ "The sun 'll be over the yard-arm in ten minutes. _Then_ we'll have a drink!"

_Jinks._ "I think I'll have one while I'm waiting!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: TRIALS OF A CONVALESCENT

_Tompkins_ (_in a feeble voice, for the fourth or fifth time, with no result_). "Chairman!!! chairman!!!"

_That Awful Boy._ "Lydies and gentlemen----!!"]

* * * * *

SEASIDE ASIDES

(_Paterfamilias in North Cornwall_)

[Illustration]

Oh! how delightful now at last to come Away from town--its dirt, its degradation, Its never-ending whirl, its ceaseless hum. (A long chalks better, though, than sheer stagnation.)

For what could mortal man or maid want more Than breezy downs to stroll on, rocks to climb up, Weird labyrinthine caverns to explore? (There's nothing else to do to fill the time up.)

Your honest face here earns an honest brown, You ramble on for miles 'mid gorse and heather, Sheep hold athletic sports upon the down (Which makes the mutton taste as tough as leather).

The place is guiltless, too, of horrid piers. And likewise is not Christy-Minstrel tooney; No soul-distressing strains disturb your ears. (A German band has just played "_Annie Rooney_".)

The eggs as fresh as paint, the Cornish cream The boys from school all say is "simply ripping." The butter, so the girls declare, "a dream." (The only baccy you can buy quite dripping.)

A happiness of resting after strife, Where one forgets all worldly pain and sorrow, And one contentedly could pass one's life. (A telegram will take _me_ home to-morrow.)

* * * * *

SCENE: MARGATE BEACH ON EASTER MONDAY.--_First Lady._ "Oh, here comes a steamer. How high she is out of the water."

_Second Lady._ "Yes, dear, but don't you see? It's because the tide's so low."

* * * * *

[Illustration: AWKWARD

_The aristocratic Jones_ (_rather ashamed of his loud acquaintance, Brown_). "You must excuse me, but if there's one thing in the world I

## particularly object to, it's to having anybody take my arm!"

_Brown._ "All right, old fellow!--_you_ take _mine_!"]

* * * * *

THE SEASIDE VISITOR'S VADE MECUM.

_Question._ Is it your intention to leave London at once to benefit by the ocean breezes on the English coast?

_Answer._ Certainly, with the bulk of my neighbours.

_Q._ Then the metropolis will become empty?

_A._ Practically, for only about three and a half millions out of the four millions will be left behind.

_Q._ What do you consider the remaining residuum?

_A._ From a West End point of view a negligible quantity.

_Q._ Do not some of the Eastenders visit the seaside?

_A._ Yes, at an earlier period in the year, when they pay rather more for their accommodation than their neighbours of the West.

_Q._ How can this be, if it be assumed that the East is poorer than the West?

_A._ The length of the visit is governed by the weight of the purse. Belgravia stays a couple of months at Eastbourne, while three days at Margate is enough for Shoreditch.

_Q._ Has a sojourn by the sea waves any disadvantages?

_A._ Several. In the first instance, lodgings are frequently expensive and uncomfortable. Then there is always a chance that the last lodgers may have occupied their rooms as convalescents. Lastly, it is not invariably the case that the climate agrees with himself and his family.

_Q._ And what becomes of the house in town?

_A._ If abandoned to a caretaker, the reception rooms may be used by her own family as best chambers, and if let to strangers, the furniture may be injured irretrievably.

_Q._ But surely in the last case there would be the certainty of pecuniary indemnity?

_A._ Cherished relics cannot be restored by their commonplace value in money.

_Q._ Then, taking one thing with another, the benefit of a visit to the seaside is questionable?

_A._ Assuredly; and an expression of heartfelt delight at the termination of the outing and the consequent return home is the customary finish to the, styled by courtesy, holiday.

_Q._ But has not the seaside visit a compensating advantage?

_A._ The seaside visit has a compensating advantage of overwhelming proportions, which completely swallows up and effaces all suggestions of discomfort--it is the fashion.

* * * * *

[Illustration: PARIS?

"Not if I know it! Give me a quiet month at the seaside, and leave me alone, please!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: CONVERSATIONAL PITFALLS

_Irene._ "Do you remember Kitty Fowler?"

_Her Friend._ "No, I don't."

_Irene._ "Oh, you _must_ remember Kitty. She was the plainest girl in Torquay. But I forgot--that was after you left!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Visitor._ "Have you ever seen the sea-serpent?"

_Boatman._ "No, sir. I'm a temperance man."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: SEPARATE INTERESTS

_Husband._ "Hi! Maria! Take care of the paint!"

_Painter._ "It don't matter, ma'am. It'll all 'ave to be painted again!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: CAUTION TO YOUNG LADIES WHO RIDE IN CRINOLINE ON DONKEYS]

* * * * *

[Illustration: MARGATE

_Chatty Visitor._ "I like the place. I always come here. 'Worst of it is, it's a little too dressy!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: UNLUCKY COMPLIMENTS

_Shy but Susceptible Youth._ "Er--_could_ you tell me who that young lady is--sketching?"

_Affable Stranger._ "She has the misfortune to be my wife!"

_Shy but Susceptible One_ (_desperately anxious to please, and losing all presence of mind_). "Oh--the misfortune's entirely _yours_, I'm _sure_!"]

* * * * *

BRILLIANT SUGGESTION (_Overheard at the Seaside_).--_She._ "So much nicer now that all the visitors have gone. Don't you think so?"

_He._ "Yes, by Jove! So jolly nice and quiet! Often wonder that _everybody_ doesn't come now when there's nobody here, don't you know!"

* * * * *

[Illustration: A NUISANCE.

_Miss Priscilla._ "Yes; it's a beautiful view. But tourists are in the habit of bathing on the opposite shore, and that's rather a drawback."

_Fair Visitor._ "Dear me! but at such a distance as that--surely----"

_Miss Priscilla._ "Ah, but with a _telescope_, you know!"]

* * * * *

THE SEASIDE PHOTOGRAPHER

[Illustration]

I do not mean the Kodak fiend, Who takes snap-shots of ladies dipping, And gloats o'er sundry views he's gleaned Of amatory couples "tripping."

No, not these playful amateurs I sing of, but the serious artist, Who spreads upon the beach his lures, What time the season's at its smartest.

His tongue is glib, his terms are cheap, For ninepence while you wait he'll take you; Posterity shall, marv'lling, keep The "tin-type" masterpiece he'll make you.

What though his camera be antique, His dark-room just a nose-bag humble, What if his tripod legs are weak, And threaten constantly to tumble.

No swain nor maiden can withstand His invitation arch, insidious, To pose _al fresco_ on the strand-- His _clientele_ are not fastidious.

"You are so lovely", says the wretch, "Your picture will be quite entrancing!" And to the lady in the sketch I overheard him thus romancing.

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE RULING PASSION

_Sir Talbot Howard Vere de Vere._ "Ah! Good morning, Mrs. Jones! Dreadful accident just occurred. Poor young lady riding along the King's Road--horse took fright--reared, and fell back upon her--dreadfully injured, I'm sorry to say!"

_Mrs. Woodbee Swellington Jones._ "_Quite_ too shocking, dear Sir Talbot! Was she--er--a person of position?"

_Sir Talbot Howard Vere de Vere._ "POSITION, by George!! Dooced uncomfortable position, too, I should say!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: FOR THE PUBLIC GOOD

_Bertie._ "Gertie, do just go back to the beach and fetch me a baby (you'll find a lot about), and I'll show you all the different ways of saving it from drowning!"]

* * * * *

ANNALS OF A WATERING-PLACE THAT HAS "SEEN ITS DAY"

[Illustration: TYNEMOUTH]

The weather which, in Mr. Dunstable's varied experience of five-and-twenty years, he assures me, has never been so bad, having at length afforded some indications of "breaking", I make the acquaintance, through Mrs. Cobbler, of Mr. Wisterwhistle, proprietor of the one bath-chair available for the invalid of Torsington-on-Sea, who, like myself, stands in need of the salubrious air of that health-giving resort, but who is ordered by his medical adviser to secure it with the least possible expenditure of physical strength.

Both Mr. Wisterwhistle and his chair are peculiar in their respective ways, and each has a decided history. Mr. Wisterwhistle, growing confidential over his antecedents, says, "You see, sir, I wasn't brought up to the bath-chair business, so to speak, for I began in the Royal Navy, under His Majesty King William the Fourth. Then I took to the coastguard business, and having put by a matter of thirty pound odd, and hearing 'she' was in the market,"--Mr. Wisterwhistle always referred to his bath-chair as 'she,' evidently regarding it from the nautical stand-point as of the feminine gender,--"and knowing, saving your presence, sir, that old Bloxer, of whom I bought her, had such a good crop of cripples the last season or two, that he often touched two-and-forty shillings a week with 'em, I dropped Her Majesty's service, and took to this 'ere. But, Lor, sir, the business ain't wot it wos. Things is changed woeful at Torsington since I took her up. Then from 9 o'clock, as you might say, to 6 P.M., every hour was took up; and, mind you, by real downright 'aristocracy,'--real live noblemen, with gout on 'em, as thought nothink of a two hours' stretch, and didn't 'aggle, savin' your presence, over a extra sixpence for the job either way. But, bless you, wot's it come to now? Why, she might as well lay up in a dry dock arf the week, for wot's come of the downright genuine invalid, savin' your presence, blow'd if I knows. One can see, of course, sir, in arf a jiffy, as you is touched in the legs with the rheumatics, or summat like it; but besides you and a old gent on crutches from Portland Buildings, there ain't no real invalid public 'ere at all, and one can't expect to make a livin' out of you two; for if you mean to do the thing ever so 'ansome, it ain't reasonable to expect you and the old gent I was a referring to, to stand seven hours a day goin' up and down the Esplanade between you, and you see even that at a bob an hour ain't no great shakes when you come to pay for 'ousing her and keepin' her lookin' spic and span, with all her brass knobs a shining and her leather apron fresh polished with patent carriage blackin': and Lor, sir, you'd not b'lieve me if I was to tell you what a deal of show some parties expects for their one bob an hour. Why, it was only the other day that Lady Glumpley (a old party with a front of black curls and yaller bows in her bonnet, as I dare say you've noticed me a haulin' up and down the Parade when the band's a playin'), says to me, says she, 'It ain't so much the easygoin' of your chair, Mr. Wisterwhistle, as makes me patronise it, as its general genteel appearance. For there's many a chair at Brighton that can't hold a candle to it!'" But at this point he was interrupted by the appearance of a dense crowd that half filled the street, and drew up in silent expectation opposite my front door. Dear me, I had quite forgotten I had sent for him. But the boy who cleans the boots and knives has returned, and brought with him _the One Policeman_!

[Illustration: INDIAMAN GOING INTO PORT]

* * * * *

QUERY AT SOME FASHIONABLE SEASIDE RESORT.--Do the unpleasant odours noticeable at certain times arise from the fact of the tide being high? If so, is the tide sometimes higher than usual, as the--ahem!--odours certainly are?

* * * * *

[Illustration: PERIL!

_Gruff Voice_ (_behind her--she thought she heard her own name_). "She's a gettin' old, Bill, and she sartain'y ain't no beauty! But you and I'll smarten her up! Give her a good tarrin' up to the waist, and a streak o' paint, and they 'ont know her again when the folks come down a' Whitsun'. Come along, and let's ketch 'old of her, and shove her into the water fust of all!!"

_Miss Isabella._ "Oh! the horrid wretches! No policeman in sight! Nothing for it but flight!"

[Is off like a bird!

]

* * * * *

[Illustration: PREHISTORIC PEEPS

There were even then quiet spots by the sea where one could be alone with Nature undisturbed]

* * * * *

[Illustration: A SENSE OF PROPERTY

_Botanical Old Gent_ (_in the Brighton Gardens_). "Can you tell me, my good man, if this plant belongs to the 'Arbutus' family?"

_Gardener_ (_curtly_). "No, sir, it doan't. It b'longs to the Corporation!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE MINOR ILLS OF LIFE

Portrait of a gentleman attempting to regain his tent after the morning bath]

* * * * *

[Illustration: MERMAIDS' TOILETS IN '67

_Blanche._ "I say, some of you, call after aunty! She has taken my _chignon_, and left me her horrid black one!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: LOW TIDE ON SCARBOROUGH SANDS--BATHING UNDER DIFFICULTIES

The captain, who is well up in his classics, translates, for his Fanny's benefit, a celebrated Latin poem (by one Lucretius) to the effect that it is sweet to gaze from the cliff at the bathing machines vainly struggling to take the unfortunate bathers into deep water.]

* * * * *

[Illustration: SEASIDE PUZZLE

To find your bathing-machine if you've forgotten the number]

* * * * *

[Illustration: VENUS (ANNO DOMINI 1892) RISES FROM THE SEA!!]

* * * * *

SEASIDE DRAMA.--_Mrs. de Tomkyns_ (_sotto voce, to Mr. de T._). "Ludovic, dear, there's Algernon playing with a strange child! _Do_ prevent it!"

_Mr. de T._ (_ditto, to Mrs. de T._). "How on earth am I to prevent it, my love?"

_Mrs. de T._ "Tell its parents Algernon is just recovering from scarlet fever, or something!"

_Mr. de T._ "But it isn't true!"

_Mrs. de T._ "Oh, never mind! Tell them, all the same!"

_Mr. de T._ (_aloud_). "Ahem! Sir, you'd better not let your little girl play with my little boy. He's only just recovering from--er--_Scarlet Fever_!"

_Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins_ (_together_). "It's all right, sir!--_so's our little gal!_"

* * * * *

[Illustration: MIXED BATHING

_Fussy Landlady_ (_to new Lodger_). "Well, sir, if you'll only tell me when you want a bath, _I'll see you have it_."]

* * * * *

BY THE SEASIDE

(_A Gasp and a Growl from Paterfamilias Fogey_)

[Illustration]

In for it here, Six weeks or more, Once every year (Yah, what a bore!) Daughters and wife Force me to bide Mad to "see life" By the seaside!

Go out of town What if we do? Hither comes down All the world too; Vanity Fair, Fashion and Pride, Seeking fresh air By the seaside.

Drest up all hands-- Raiment how dear!-- Down on the sands, Out on the Pier, Pace to and fro, See, as at Ryde, Off how they show By the seaside!

Fops and fine girls, Swarm, brisk as bees; Ribbons and curls Float on the breeze; Females and males Eye and are eyed; Ogling prevails By the seaside!

Daughters may see Some fun in that. Wife, how can she, Grown old and fat?

## Scene I survey

But to deride, Idle display By the seaside.

Views within reach, Picturesque scenes, Rocks on the beach, Bathing machines, Shingle and pools, Left by the tide, Youth, far from schools, By the seaside.

Artists may sketch, Draw and design, Pencil, or etch; Not in my line. Money, no end, Whilst I am tied Here, I must spend, By the seaside!

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Snooks_ (_to new acquaintance_). "Tell yer what, look in one evenin' and 'ave a bit of supper, if you don't mind 'avin it in the kitchen. Yer see, we're plain people, and don't put on no side. Of course, I know as a toff like you 'ud 'ave it in the _drawing-room_!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: TORQUAY (TALKEY)]

* * * * *

[Illustration: HASTINGS]

* * * * *

[Illustration: GENTILITY IN GREENS

_Mrs. Brown finds Sandymouth a very different place from what she remembers it years ago._

_Greengrocer._ "Cabbage, mum!? We don't keep no second-class vegetables, mum. You'll get it at the lower end o' the town!"]

* * * * *

SEASIDE VIEWS

[Illustration: KINGSWEAR]

_Tom Jones_ (_in love_). The most heavenly place I ever was in. The sun is warmer, the sky bluer, the sea the calmest I ever knew. Joy sparkles on every pebble; Art spreads its welcome arms through every spray of seaweed. True happiness encircles me on every breeze, and Beauty is by my side.

_Old Jones._ Beastly slow. All sea and sky, and ugly round stones. You can't bask in the sun because there is none--it's always raining--and because the flints worry your back. Confound the children, scraping up the wet sand and smelling seaweeds! It must be time for them to go to bed or to lessons or something. Wherever you sit there is sure to be a draught, and such heaps of old women you can't put your legs up on the seat. Hang it all, there isn't a young girl in the place, let alone pretty ones.

[Illustration: O-SHUN SHELLS!]

_Young Brown_ (_waiting for a Commission_). Awfully dull. Quite too excessively detestable. Not a fellow to talk to, you know, who knows anything about the Leger, or draw-poker, or modern education, you know. Can't get introduced to Lady Tom Peeper. Nobody to do it. Wish my moustache would curl. Pull it all day, you know, but it won't come. Lady Tom smiled, on the Parade to-day. Got very red, but I shall smile too to-morrow. A man must do something in this dreadful place.

_Major Brown_ (_Heavies_). Not half bad kind of diggings. Quite in clover. Found Lydia here--I mean Lady Tom Peeper. Horribly satirical woman, though. Keeps one up to the mark. I shall have to read up to keep pace with her. I shouldn't like to be chaffed by her. Better friend than enemy. Poor Tom Peeper! he must have a bad time of it! Can't say "Bo" to a gosling. And she knows it. That's why he never comes down here. Coast clear. Fancy she's rather sweet on me. By Jove! we had a forty-mile-an-hour-express flirtation before her marriage! Must take care what I'm about now. Mustn't have a collision with Tom--good old man, after all, if he is a fool. Take this note round, Charles, to the same place.

[Illustration: A CUTTER ON THE BEECH]

_Mrs. Robinson_ (_Materfamilias_). Scarcely room to swing a cot, for baby. Thank goodness, all the children are on the beach. I hope Mary Ann won't let out to the other nurses that Totty had the scarlet fever. He's quite well now, poor little man, and no one will be any the worse for it. Horrid! of course. No, it is not a Colorado beetle, Robinson. They infest the curtains; we did not bring them with us in our trunks. Do go out and buy some insect-powder, instead of looking stupid behind that nasty cigar. Oh, and get some soap and some tooth-powder, and order baby's tonic, and Jane's iron--mind, sesqui-sulphate of iron (I suppose I must find the prescription), and a box of--what's that stuff for sore throats? And do hire a perambulator with a hood. And we have no dessert for to-morrow--you know, or you ought to know, it's Sunday. Some fruit, and what you like. Oh! and don't forget some biscuits for the dog. What has become of Tiny? Tiny! Tiny! I know he did not go with the children. I dare say he has eaten something horrid, and is dying under a chair. Dear! dear! who would be mother of a family with such a careless, thoughtless, quite too utterly selfish husband as you are. Of course you never remembered to-day was my birthday. I ought never to have been born. A bracelet or a pair of ear-rings--or, by the way, I saw a lovely chatelaine on the Parade. You might find enough to give me one pleasure since our wedding.

_Robinson_ (_Paterfamilias_). I like the seaside, I do. When will it be over?

* * * * *

[Illustration: A SANDY COVE]

* * * * *

[Illustration: A FRAGMENT

Augustus knows a certain snug retreat-- A little rocky cavern by the sea-- Where, sheltered from the rain (and every eye), He fondly hopes to breathe his tale of love Into his artless Arabella's ear!...]

* * * * *

[Illustration: LONGING FOR A NEW SENSATION

_Jack_ (_a naughty boy, who is always in disgrace, and most deservedly_). "I say, Effie, do you know what I should like? I should like to be accused of something I'd never done!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: A LAMENT

_Dowager._ "It's been the worst season I can remember, Sir James! All the men seem to have got married, and none of the girls!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: JOYS OF THE SEASIDE

_Brown._ "What beastly weather! And the glass is going steadily down!"

_Local Tradesman._ "Oh, that's nothing, sir. The glass has no effect whatever on _our_ part of the coast!"]

* * * * *

THE BETTER THE DAY, THE BETTER THE TALK!

[Illustration: BROAD-STARES]

SCENE--_Any fashionable Watering-place where "Church Parade" is a recognised institution._

TIME--_Sunday_, 1 P.M. _Enter_ Brown _and_ Mrs. Brown, _who take chairs_.

_Mrs. Brown._ Good gracious! Look another way! Those odious people, the Stiggingses, are coming towards us!

_Brown._ Why odious? I think the girls rather nice.

_Mrs. B._ (_contemptuously_). Oh, _you_ would, because men are so easily taken in! Nice, indeed! Why, here's Major Buttons.

_B._ (_moving his head sharply to the right_). Don't see him! Can't stand the fellow! I always avoid him at the Club!

_Mrs. B._ Why? Soldiers are always such pleasant men.

_B._ (_contemptuously_). Buttons a soldier! Years ago he was a Lieutenant in a marching regiment, and now holds honorary rank in the Volunteers! Soldier, indeed! Bless me! here's Mrs. Fitz-Flummery--mind you don't cut her.

_Mrs. B._ Yes, I shall; the woman is unsupportable. Did you ever see _such_ a dress. And she has changed the colour of her hair--again!

_B._ Whether she has or hasn't, she looks particularly pleasing.

_Mrs. B._ (_drily_). You were always a little eccentric in your taste! Why, surely there must be Mr. Pennyfather Robson. How smart he looks! Where _can_ he have come from?

_B._ The Bankruptcy Court! (_Drily._) You were never particularly famous for discrimination. As I live, the Plantagenet Smiths!

[_He bows with effusion._

_Mrs. B._ And the Stuart Joneses. (_She kisses her hand gushingly_). By the way, dear, didn't you say that the Plantagenet Smiths were suspected of murdering their uncle before they inherited his property?

_B._ So it is reported, darling. And didn't you tell me, my own, that the parents of Mr. Stuart Jones were convicts before they became millionaires?

_Mrs. B._ So I have heard, loved one. (_Starting up._) Come, Charley, we must be off at once! The Goldharts! If they catch us, _she_ is sure to ask me to visit some of her sick poor!

_B._ And _he_ to beg me to subscribe to an orphanage or a hospital! Here, take your prayer-book, or people won't know that we have come from church!

[_Exeunt hurriedly._

* * * * *

[Illustration: ROW ME O!]

* * * * *

[Illustration: CURLEW]

* * * * *

AT SCARBOROUGH.--_Miss Araminta Dove._ Why do they call this the Spa?

_Mr. Rhino-Ceros._ Oh! I believe the place was once devoted to boxing exhibitions.

[_Miss A.D. as wise as ever._

* * * * *

[Illustration: "BY THE SAD SEA WAVES"

_Landlady_ (_who has just presented her weekly bill_). "I 'ope, ma'am, as you find the bracing hair agree with you, ma'am, and your good gentleman, ma'am!"

_Lady._ "Oh, yes, our appetites are wonderfully improved! For instance, at home we only eat two loaves a day, and I find, from your account, that we can manage eight!"

[_Landlady feels uncomfortable._

]

* * * * *

[Illustration: RATHER DIFFICULT

"Oh, I say, here comes that dismal bore, Bulkley! Let's pretend _we don't see him_!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: PESSIMISM

_Artist_ (_irritated by the preliminaries of composition and the too close proximity of an uninteresting native_). "I think you needn't wait any longer. There's really nothing to look at just now."

_Native._ "Ay, an' I doot there'll _never_ be muckle to look at there!"]

* * * * *

THE DONKEY-BOYS OF ENGLAND

(_A Song for the Seaside_)

[Illustration]

The Donkey-Boys of England, how merrily they fly, With pleasant chaff upon the tongue and cunning in the eye. And oh! the donkeys in a mass how patiently they stand, High on the heath of Hampstead, or down on Ramsgate's sand.

The Donkey-Boys of England, how sternly they reprove The brute that won't "come over", with an impressive shove; And oh! the eel-like animals, how gracefully they swerve From side to side, but won't advance to spoil true beauty's curve.

The Donkey-Boys of England, how manfully they fight, When a probable donkestrian comes suddenly in sight; From nurse's arms the babies are clutch'd with fury wild, And on a donkey carried off the mother sees her child.

The Donkey-Boys of England, how sternly they defy The pleadings of a parent's shriek, the infant's piercing cry; As a four-year-old MAZEPPA is hurried from the spot, Exposed to all the tortures of a donkey's fitful trot.

The Donkey-Boys of England, how lustily they scream, When they strive to keep together their donkeys in a team; And the riders who are anxious to be class'd among genteels, Have a crowd of ragged Donkey-boys "hallooing" at their heels.

The Donkey-Boys of England, how well they comprehend The animal to whom they act as master, guide, and friend; The understanding that exists between them who'll dispute-- Or that the larger share of it falls sometimes to the brute?

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE JETTY]

* * * * *

SEASIDE ACQUAINTANCES (SCENE--The Shady Side of Pall Mall).--_Snob._ My Lord, you seem to forget me. Don't you recollect our meeting this summer at Harrogate?

_Swell._ My dear fellow, I do not forget it in the least. I recollect vividly we swore eternal friendship at Harrogate, and should it be my fate to meet you at Harrogate next year, I shall only be too happy to swear it again.

[_Lifts his chapeau, and leaves Snob in a state of the most speechless amazement._

* * * * *

[Illustration: Portrait of a gentleman who sent his wife and family to the seaside, followed by a later train, and left their address behind.

[_Sketched after five hours' futile search for them._

]

* * * * *

[Illustration: A VOICE FROM THE SEA

"O let me kiss him for his mother!"]

* * * * *

REASONS FOR GOING TO BRIGHTON

(_By the Cynic who stays in London_)

[Illustration: "HA! RICH!"]

Because "everybody" is there, and it is consequently so pleasant to see St. John's Wood, Bayswater, and even Belgravia, so well represented on the Esplanade.

Because the shops in the King's Road are _nearly_ as good as those to be found in Regent Street.

Because the sea does not _always_ look like the Thames at Greenwich in a fog.

Because some of the perambulating bands play very nearly in tune.

Because the Drive from the Aquarium to the New Pier is quite a mile in length, and only grows monotonous after the tenth turn.

Because watching fish confined in tanks is such rollicking fun.

Because the Hebrews are so numerously represented on the Green.

Because the Clubs are so inexpensive and select.

Because the management of the Grand is so very admirable.

Because it is so pleasant to follow the Harriers on a hired hack in company with other hired hacks.

Because the half-deserted Skating Rinks are so very amusing.

Because it is so nice to hear second-rate scandal about third-rate people.

Because the place is not always being visited by the scarlet fever.

Because it is so cheerful to see the poor invalids taking their morning airing in their bath-chairs.

Because the streets are paraded by so many young gentlemen from the City.

Because the Brighton belles look so ladylike in their quiet Ulsters and unpretending hats.

Because the suburbs are so very cheerful in the winter, particularly when it snows or rains.

Because on every holiday the Railway Company brings down such a very nice assortment of excursionists to fill the streets.

Because Brighton in November is so very like Margate in July.

Because, if you did not visit Brighton, you might so very easily go farther and fare worse.

* * * * *

[Illustration: WESTON-SUPER-MARE]

* * * * *

[Illustration: SCENE--BY THE SAD SEA WAVES

_Tomkins, disconsolate on a rock, traces some characters upon the sand._ _To him, Mrs. Tomkins_ (_whose name is Martha_).

_Mrs. T._ "Well, Mr. Tomkins, and pray who may Henrietta be?"

[_Tomkins utters a yell of despair, and falls prostrate._

]

* * * * *

[Illustration: A VIKING ON MODERN FASHION

"What does t'lass want wi' yon _boostle_ for? It aren't big enough to _smoggle_ things, and she can't _steer_ herself wi' it!"]

* * * * *

THE TRIPPER

(_By a Resident_)

What does he come for? What does he want? Why does he wander thus Careworn and gaunt? Up street and down street with Dull vacant stare, Hither and thither, it Don't matter where?

What does he mean by it? Why does he come Hundreds of miles to prowl, Weary and glum, Blinking at Kosmos with Lack-lustre eye? He doesn't enjoy it, he Don't even try!

Sunny or soaking, it's All one to him, Wandering painfully-- Curious whim! Gazing at china-shops. Gaping at sea, Guzzling at beer-shops, or Gorging at tea.

Why don't he stay at home, Save his train fare, Soak at his native beer, Sunday clothes wear? No one would grudge it him, No one would jeer. Why does he come away? Why is he here?

* * * * *

[Illustration: BLACKPOOL]

* * * * *

[Illustration: BRIGHTON]

* * * * *

[Illustration: MARGATE]

* * * * *

[Illustration: A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING

_Landlady._ "I hope you slept well, sir?"

_New Boarder._ "No, I didn't. I've been troubled with insomnia."

_Landlady._ "Look here, young man. I'll give you a sovereign for every one you find in that bed!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: TOUCHING APPEAL

_Testy Old Gent._ (_wearied by the importunities of the Brighton boatmen_). "Confound it, man! Do I _look_ as if I wanted a boat?"]

* * * * *

ROBERT AT THE SEASIDE

I've bin spending my long Wacation of a fortnite at Northgate.

Northgate's a nice quiet place, Northgate is, tho' it quite fails in most things that constitoots reel injoyment at the seaside, such as Bands and Niggers and Minstrels and all that.

It's a grand place for weather, for it generally blows hard at Northgate, and wen it doesn't blow hard it rains hard, which makes a nice change, and a change is wot we all goes to the seaside for.

It seems a werry favrite place for inwaleeds, for the place is full on 'em, Bath cheers is in great demand and all the seats on the Prade is allus occypied by 'em.

Dr. Scratchem too sends most of his favrite cases there, and you can't walk on the Peer without facing lots on 'em.

Brown says the place makes him as sollem as a Common Cryer, and he hasn't had a good hearty larf since he came here, but then Brown isn't quite sattisfied with his Lodgings, and has acshally recommended his Land Lady to turn her house into the Norfolk Howard Hotel, _Unlimited_, so perhaps she may account for his want of spirits. Northgate's rather a rum place as regards the tide. Wen it's eye it comes all over the place and makes such a jolly mess, and wen it's low it runs right out to sea and you can't see it. Brown tried to persuade me as how as one werry eye tide was a spring tide, but as it was in September I wasn't so green as to beleeve that rubbish.

It seems quite a pet place for Artists, I mean Sculpchers, at least I s'pose they must be Sculpchers, and that they brings their Moddels with 'em, for the Bathing Machines is stuck close to the Peer, so dreckly after breakfast the Moddels goes and bathes in the Sea, and the Sculpchers goes on the Peer, and there's nothink to divert their attention from their interesting studdys, and many on 'em passes ours there quietly meditating among the Bathing Machines.

Brown says, in his sarcastic way, it's the poor Sculpchers as comes here, who can't afford to pay for their Moddels, so they comes here and gets 'em free gratis for nothink.

There's sum werry nice walks in the nayberhood but I never walks 'em, for it seems to me that the grate joke of every Buysicler and Trysicler, and the place swarms with 'em, is to cum quietly behind you and see how close he can go by you without nocking you down. I'm sure the jumps and the starts and the frites as I had the fust day or too kep my Art in my mouth till I thort it would have choked me.

How Ladys, reel Ladys too, can expose theirselves on such things I can't make out. I herd a young Swell say that wot with them and what with the Bathing Moddels it was as good as a Burlesk!

We've got werry cumferrabel Lodgings, we have, just opposite the Gas Works and near a Brick Field. When the wind is South or West we smells the bricks and when its East we smells the Gas, but when its doo North we don't smell nuffen excep just a trifle from the Dranes, and so long as we keeps quite at the end of the werry long Peer we don't smell nuffen at all excep the sea weed.

Our Landlord's a werry respeckabel man and the Stoker on our little Railway, and so werry fond of nussing our little children that they are allus as black as young Sweeps. Their gratest treat is to go with him to the Stashun and stand on the ingin when they are shuntin, so preshus little they gits of the sea breezes.

We've had a fust rate Company staying here. I've seen no less than 2 Aldermen, and 1 Warden of a City Compny, but they didn't stay long. I don't think the living was good enuff for 'em. It must be a werry trying change, from every luxery that isn't in season, to meer beef and mutton and shrimps! and those rayther course.

I think our Boatmen is about the lazyest set of fellows as ever I seed. So far from begging on you to have a soft Roe with the Tide, or a hard Roe against it, they makes all sorts of egscewses for not taking you, says they're just a going to dinner, or they thinks the wind's a gitting up, or there ain't enough water!

Not enuff water in the Sea to flote a Bote! wen any one could see as there was thousands of galluns there.

I saw some on 'em this mornin bringin in sum fish, and asked the price of a pair of Souls, but they axshally said they didn't dare sell one, for every man Jack of 'em must be sent to Billingsgate! but werry likely sum on 'em might be sent back again in the arternoon, and then I could get some at the Fishmonger's!

What a nice derangemunt!

There was the butiful fresh fish reddy for eating, there was me and my family reddy to eat 'em, but no, they must be packed in boxes and carried to the Station and then sent by Rale to London, and then sent by Wan to Billingsgate, and that takes I'm told ever so many hours, and then carried back to the London Stashun, and then sent by Rale to Northgate, and then carried from the Stashun to the Fishmonger's, and then I'm allowed to buy 'em!

Well if that isn't a butiful business like arrangement, my Lord Mare, I should like to know what is.

However, as I wunce herd a Deputy say, when things cums to their wust, things is sure to mend, and I don't think that things can be much wusser than that.

(_Signed_) ROBERT.

* * * * *

[Illustration: LIGHT PUFFS RAISED A LITTLE SWELL]

* * * * *

[Illustration: HEAVY SWELL ON THE BAR]

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE BELL BUOY]

* * * * *

THE SPIRIT OF THE THING.--_Landlady_ (_to shivering lodger_). No, sir, I don't object to your dining at a restorong, nor to your taking an 'apenny paper, but I must resent your constant 'abit of locking up your whiskey, thereby himplying that me, a clergyman's daughter, is prone to larceny.

[_Lodger immediately hands her the key as a guarantee of good faith._

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE BORES OF THE BEACH

So! as it's a fine day, you'll sit on the beach and read the paper comfortably, will you? Very good! Then we recommend you to get what guinea-pigs, brandy-balls, boats, and children's socks, to say nothing of shell-workboxes, lace collars, and the like you may want, before you settle down.]

* * * * *

[Illustration: "Excuse me, sir. I seem to have met you before. Are you not a relative of Mr. Dan Briggs?"

"No, madam. I _am_ Mr. Dan Briggs himself."

"Ah, then that explains the remarkable resemblance!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: ACCOMMODATING

_Lodger._ "And then, there's that cold pheasant, Mrs. Bilkes"----

_Landlady._ "Yes'm, and if you should have enough without it, lor', Mr. Bilkes wouldn't mind a eatin' of it for his supper, if that's all."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Mrs. Brown._ "Might I ask how much you gave that nigger?"

_Mr. Brown_ (_first day down_). "Sixpence."

_Mrs. B._ "Oh, indeed! Perhaps, sir, you are not aware that your wife and family have listened to those same niggers for the last ten days for a _penny_!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: PLEASURES OF THE SEASIDE

_Mermaiden._ "I am told you keep a circulating library?"

_Librarian._ "Yes, miss. _There_ it is! Subscription, two shillings a-week; one volume at a time; change as often as you please! Would you like to see a catalogue?"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: AN INFORMAL INTRODUCTION

_Polite Little Girl_ (_suddenly_). "This is my mamma, sir. Will you please sing her, 'It's the seasoning wot does it!'"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: OUT OF TOWN (UNFASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE)

_Visitor._ "What a roaring trade the hotels will be doing, with all these holiday folk!"

_Head waiter at The George._ "Lor bless yer, sir, no! They all bring their nosebags with 'em!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: SEASIDE STUDIES

_Wandering Minstrel._ "Gurls! I'm a doocid fine cha-appie!" &c., &c.]

* * * * *

[Illustration: Wiggles and Sprott prefer bathing from the beach to having a stuffy machine. They are much pleased with the delicate little attention indicated above!]

* * * * *

[Illustration: A QUIET DRIVE BY THE SEA

A Brighton bath-chairman's idea of a suitable route for an invalid lady]

* * * * *

A SEASIDE ROUNDEL

On the sands as loitering I stand Where my point of view the scene commands, I survey the prospect fair and grand On the sands.

Niggers, half a dozen German bands, Photographic touts, persistent, bland, Chiromancers reading dirty hands,

Nursemaids, children, preachers, skiffs that land Trippers with cigars of fearful brands, Donkeys--everything, in short, but sand-- On the sands.

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE LETTER BUT NOT THE SPIRIT

Old Mr. de Cramwell, being bilious and out of sorts, is ordered to go to the sea, and take plenty of exercise in the open air. (He begins at once.)]

* * * * *

COMMON OBJECTS OF THE SEASHORE.

[Illustration: TAKING A ROW]

The "disguised minstrel", believed by the public to be a peer of the realm collecting coin for a charity, but who is in reality the sentimental singer from a perambulating troop of nigger banjoists, "working on his own."

The preacher whose appreciation of the value of logic and the aspirate is on a par.

The intensely military young man whose occupation during eleven months in the year is the keeping of ledgers in a small city office.

The artist who guarantees a pleasing group of lovers for sixpence, frame included.

The band that consists of a cornet, a trombone, a clarionet, some bass, and a big drum, which is quite as effective (thanks to the trombone) when all the principals have deserted in search of coppers.

And last (and commonest of all) the cockney who, after a week's experience of the discomforts of the seaside, is weary of them, and wants to go home.

* * * * *

A WINDY CORNER AT BRIGHTON

(_By an Impressionist_)

Old lady first, with hair like winter snows, Makes moan. And struggles. Then, with cheeks too richly rose, A crone, Gold hair, new teeth, white powder on her nose; All bone And skin; an "Ancient Mystery", like those Of Hone. Then comes a girl; sweet face that freshly glows! Well grown. The neat cloth gown her supple figure shows Now thrown In lines of beauty. Last, in graceless pose, Half prone, A luckless lout, caught by the blast, one knows His tone Means oaths; his hat, straight as fly crows, Has flown. I laugh at him, and----Hi! By Jove, there goes My own!

* * * * *

ON THE SANDS

(_A Sketch at Margate_)

_Close under the Parade wall a large circle has been formed, consisting chiefly of Women on chairs and camp-stools, with an inner ring of small Children, who are all patiently awaiting the arrival of a troupe of Niggers. At the head of one of the flights of steps leading up to the Parade, a small and shrewish Child-nurse is endeavouring to detect and recapture a pair of prodigal younger Brothers, who have given her the slip._

_Sarah_ (_to herself_). Wherever can them two plegs have got to? (_Aloud; drawing a bow at a venture._) Albert! 'Enery! Come up 'ere this minnit. _I_ see yer!

_'Enery_ (_under the steps--to Albert_). I say--d'ye think she _do_?--'cos if----

_Albert._ Not she! Set tight.

[_They sit tight._

_Sarah_ (_as before_). 'Enery! Albert! You've bin and 'alf killed little Georgie between yer!

_'Enery_ (_moved, to Albert_). Did you 'ear that, Bert? It wasn't _me_ upset him--was it now?

_Albert_ (_impenitent_). 'Oo cares? The Niggers'll be back direckly.

_Sarah._ Al-bert! 'Enery! Your father's bin down 'ere once after you. You'll _ketch_ it!

_Albert_ (_sotto voce_). Not till father ketches _us_, we shan't. Keep still, 'Enery--we're all right under 'ere!

_Sarah_ (_more diplomatically_). 'Enery! Albert! Father's bin and left a 'ap'ny apiece for yer. Ain't yer comin' up for it? If yer don't want it, why, stay where you are, that's all!

_Albert_ (_to 'Enery_). I _knoo_ we 'adn't done nothin'. An' I'm goin' up to git that 'ap'ny, I am.

_'Enery._ So 'm I.

[_They emerge, and ascend the steps--to be pounced upon immediately by the ingenious Sarah._

_Sarah._ 'Ap'ny, indeed! You won't git no 'apence _'ere_, I can tell yer--so jest you come along 'ome with me!

[_Exeunt Albert and 'Enery, in captivity, as the Niggers enter the circle._

_Bones._ We shall commence this afternoon by 'olding our Grand Annual Weekly Singing Competition, for the Discouragement of Youthful Talent. Now then, which is the little gal to step out first and git a medal? (_The Children giggle, but remain seated._) Not one? Now I arsk _you_--What _is_ the use o' me comin' 'ere throwin' away thousands and thousands of pounds on golden medals, if you won't take the trouble to stand up and sing for them? Oh, you'll make me so wild, I shall begin spittin' 'alf-sovereigns directly--I _know_ I shall! (_A little Girl in a sun-bonnet comes forward._) Ah, 'ere's a young lady who's bustin' with melody, _I_ can see. Your name, my dear? Ladies and Gentlemen, I have the pleasure to announce that Miss Connie Cockle will now appear. Don't curtsey till the Orchestra gives the chord. (_Chord from the harmonium--the Child advances, and curtsies with much aplomb._) Oh, lor! call _that_ a curtsey--that's a _cramp_, that is! Do it all over again! (_The Child obeys, disconcerted._) That's _worse_! I can see the s'rimps blushin' for yer inside their paper bags! Now see Me do it. (_Bones executes a caricature of a curtsey, which the little Girl copies with terrible fidelity._) That's _ladylike_--that's genteel. Now sing _out_! (_The Child sings the first verse of a popular music-hall song, in a squeaky little voice._) Talk about nightingales! Come 'ere, and receive the reward for extinguished incapacity. On your knees! (_The little Girl kneels before him while a tin medal is fastened upon her frock._) Rise, Sir Connie Cockle! Oh, you _lucky_ girl!

[_The Child returns, swelling with triumph, to her companions, several of whom come out, and go through the same performance, with more or less squeakiness and self-possession._

_First Admiring Matron_ (_in audience_). I do like to see the children kep' out o' mischief like this, instead o' goin' paddling and messing about the sands!

_Second Ad. Mat._ Just what _I_ say, my dear--they're amused and edjucated 'ow to beyave at the same time!

_First Politician_ (_with the "Standard"_). No, but look here--when Gladstone was asked in the House whether he proposed to give the Dublin Parliament the control of the police, what was his answer. Why....

_The Niggers_ (_striking up chorus_). "'Rum-tumty diddly-umty doodah-dey! Rum-tumty-diddly-um was all that he could say. And the Members and the Speaker joined together in the lay. Of 'Rum-tumty-diddly-umty doodah-dey!'"

_Second Pol._ (_with the "Star"_). Well, and what more would you have _'ad_ him say? Come, now!

_Alf_ (_who has had quite enough ale at dinner--to his fiancee_). These Niggers ain't up to much Loo. Can't sing for _nuts_!

_Chorley_ (_his friend, perfidiously_). You'd better go in and show 'em how, old man. Me and Miss Serge'll stay and see you take the shine out of 'em!

_Alf._ P'raps you think I can't. But, if I was to go upon the 'Alls now, I should make my fortune in no time! Loo's 'eard me when I've been in form, and she'll tell you----

_Miss Serge._ Well, I will say there's many a professional might learn a lesson from Alf--whether Mr. Perkins believes it or not.

[_Cuttingly, to "Chorley"._

_Chorley._ Now reelly, Miss Loo, don't come down on a feller like that. I want to see him do you credit, that's all, and he couldn't 'ave a better opportunity to distinguish himself--now _could_ he?

_Miss Serge._ _I'm_ not preventing him. But I don't know--these Niggers keep themselves very select, and they might object to it.

_Alf._ I'll soon square _them_. You keep your eye on me, and I'll make things a bit livelier!

[_He enters the circle._

_Miss Serge_ (_admiringly_). He has got a cheek, I must say! Look at him, dancing there along with those two Niggers--they don't hardly know what to make of him yet!

_Chorley._ Do you notice how they keep kicking him beyind on the sly like? I wonder he puts up with it!

_Miss S._ He'll be even with them presently--you see if he isn't.

[_Alf attempts to twirl a tambourine on his finger, and lets it fall; derision from audience; Bones pats him on the head and takes the tambourine away--at which Alf only smiles feebly._

_Chorley._ It's a pity he gets so 'ot dancing, and he don't seem to keep in step with the others.

_Miss S._ (_secretly disappointed_). He isn't used to doing the double-shuffle on sand, that's all.

_The Conductor._ Bones, I observe we have a recent addition to our company. Perhaps he'll favour us with a solo. (_Aside to Bones._) 'Oo _is_ he? 'Oo let him in 'ere--_you_?

_Bones._ _I_ dunno. I thought _you_ did. Ain't he stood nothing?

_Conductor._ Not a brass farden!

_Bones_ (_outraged_). All right, you leave him to me. (_To Alf._) Kin it be? That necktie! them familiar coat-buttons! that paper-dicky! You are--you _are_ my long-lost convick son, 'ome from Portland! Come to these legs! (_He embraces Alf, and smothers him with kisses._) Oh, you've been and rubbed off some of your cheek on my complexion--you _dirty_ boy! (_He playfully "bashes" Alf's hat in._) Now show the comp'ny how pretty you can sing. (_Alf attempts a music-hall ditty, in which he, not unnaturally, breaks down._) It ain't my son's fault, Ladies and Gentlemen, it's all this little gal in front here, lookin' at him and makin' him shy! (_To a small Child, severely._) You oughter know _worse_, you ought! (_Clumps of seaweed and paper-balls are thrown at Alf who by this time is looking deplorably warm and foolish._) Oh, what a popilar fav'rite he is, to be sure!

_Chorley_ (_to Miss S._). Poor fellow, he ain't no match for those Niggers--not like he is now! Hadn't I better go to the rescue, Miss Loo?

_Miss S._ (_pettishly_). I'm sure I don't care _what_ you do.

[_"Chorley" succeeds, after some persuasion, in removing the unfortunate Alf._

_Alf_ (_rejoining his fiancee with a grimy face, a smashed hat, and a pathetic attempt at a grin_). Well? I _done_ it, you see!

_Miss S._ (_crushingly_). Yes, you _have_ done it! And the best thing you can do now, is to go home and wash your face. _I_ don't care to be seen about with a _laughing-stock_, I can assure you! I've had my dignity lowered quite enough as it is!

_Alf._ But look 'ere, my dear girl, I can't leave you here all by yourself you know!

_Miss S._ I dare say Mr. Perkins will take care of me.

[_Mr. P. assents, with effusion._

_Alf_ (_watching them move away--with bitterness_). I wish all Niggers were put down by Act of Parliament, I do! Downright noosances--that's what _they_ are!

* * * * *

[Illustration: STOPPING AT A WATERING PLACE]

* * * * *

[Illustration: EAST-BORN]

* * * * *

[Illustration: WEST-BORN]

* * * * *

[Illustration]

* * * * *

[Illustration: TAKING IN SAIL]

* * * * *

DELAYS ARE DANGEROUS.--_Young Housekeeper._ "I'm afraid those soles I bought of you yesterday were not fresh. My husband said they were not nice at all!"

_Brighton Fisherman._ "Well, marm, that be your fault--it bean't mine. I've offered 'em yer every day this week, and you might a' 'ad 'em o' Monday if you'd a loiked!"

* * * * *

AT MARGATE.--_Angelina_ (_very poetical, surveying the rolling ocean_). "Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink."

_Edwin_ (_very practical_). No drink! Now, hang it all, Angy, if I've asked you once I've asked you three times within the last five minutes to come and do a split soda and whiskey! And _I_ can do with it!

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE LAST DAY AT THE SEASIDE--PACKING UP

_Maid_ (_to Paterfamilias_). "Please, sir, missus say you're to come in, and sit on the boxes; because we can't get 'em to, and they wants to be corded."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _The General._ "And what are you going to be when you grow up, young man?"

_Bobbie._ "Well, I can't quite make up my mind. I don't know which would be nicest--a soldier, like you, or a sailor, like Mr. Smithers."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: "THEM ARTISES!"

_Lady Artist._ "Do you belong to that ship over there?"

_Sailor._ "Yes, miss."

_Lady Artist._ "Then would you mind loosening all those ropes? They are much too tight, and, besides, I can't draw straight lines!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE DISORDER OF THE BATH]

How Belinda Brown appeared with "waves all over her hair" before taking a bath in the sea--and

How she looked after having some more "waves all over it."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: CAUTION TO BATHERS

Don't let them jolt you up the beach till you are dressed.

_Jones_ (_obliged to hold fast_). "Hullo! Hi! Somebody stop my boots!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: A FIX

_Separated husband._ "Fetch him out, sir!"

_Proprietor of moke._ "Why, if I went near her, she'd lie down; she always goes in just before high water; nothing'll fetch her out till the tide turns!"]

* * * * *

THE HUSBANDS' BOAT, A MARGATE MELODY

See! what craft Margate Harbour displays, There are luggers and cutters and yawls, They sail upon sunshiny days, For land-sailors arn't partial to squalls. There's Paterfamilias takes out the lot Of the progeny he may own, But the Saturday Evening boat has got A freight that is hers alone. By far the most precious of craft afloat, Is the Saturday Evening "Husbands' Boat".

There are husbands with luggage, and husbands with none, There are husbands with parcels in hand, They bring down to wives whom they lately have won, Who pretty attentions command. There are husbands who know whate'er time it may be Their wives on the jetty will wait For that Hymeneal argosy, With its matrimonial freight. Oh! the most precious of craft afloat Is the Saturday Evening "Husbands' Boat".

But the Monday Morning is "Monday black", That when at school we knew, For the husbands to business must all go back, And the wives look monstrous blue; So loud the bell rings, and the steamer starts On her way to Thames Haven again, And amid those who leave are as many sad hearts, As there are amid those who remain. Coming or going of craft afloat, The most prized one is the "Husbands' Boat".

* * * * *

[Illustration: FINIS!

(THE END OF THE SEASON.)]

* * * * *

[Illustration: FINIS]

* * * * *

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