OUR COUNTRYMEN ABROADOUR COUNTRYMEN ABROAD"Ulloa! Garçong,hereyou are! Dayjernay, se voo play?""Yes, sare! Vat vil you 'av, sare?""Oh! Oofs!""Yes, sare! Œufs à lacoque, sare?""Oh, nong! Hang it!Hen'seggs forme, please!"
"Ulloa! Garçong,hereyou are! Dayjernay, se voo play?"
"Yes, sare! Vat vil you 'av, sare?"
"Oh! Oofs!"
"Yes, sare! Œufs à lacoque, sare?"
"Oh, nong! Hang it!Hen'seggs forme, please!"
Gallant Scavenger."Very much the good day,*madame! And how fares mister your husband, this fine weather?"Polite Applewoman."Much better, I thank you, monsieur! Recall me, I pray you, to the amiable recollection of madame your spouse!"Gallant Scavenger."With pleasure, madame. Very much the good evening!"Polite Applewoman."Good evening, monsieur, and good night!"*In the original, "Bien le bon jour, madame."
Gallant Scavenger."Very much the good day,*madame! And how fares mister your husband, this fine weather?"
Polite Applewoman."Much better, I thank you, monsieur! Recall me, I pray you, to the amiable recollection of madame your spouse!"
Gallant Scavenger."With pleasure, madame. Very much the good evening!"
Polite Applewoman."Good evening, monsieur, and good night!"
*In the original, "Bien le bon jour, madame."
(With a Conversation-Book)
Into Spain
Cannes.—Read that the weather is dismal and cloudy in England. Shall stay in the sunny South a little longer. Cannes is a charming place. But might as well see something different. Where to go? Consult map. Good idea. Spain. Consult time-tables. Easiest thing in the world. Tarascon to Barcelona. What is there to see in Barcelona? Nuts probably. Also Spanish manners and customs, dark eyes, fans,mantillas, and so forth. Shall certainly go, after a few days. Good idea to learn a few words of Spanish. Must be very easy. Italian and French mixed, with some Latin added. Amiable Frenchman in hotel supports this view. He says, airily, "Vous quittez Paris dansle 'sleeping,' vous achetez des journaux espagnols à Irun, et, arrivé à Madrid vous parlez espagnol." Cannot hope to rival that linguistic feat, but may be able to learn a few phrases between Cannes and Barcelona. Buy a conversation-book in French and Spanish.
Port Bou.—Across the frontier. Custom-house station. Now is the time to begin Spanish. Have read some of that conversation-book on the way. Begin to doubt its utility. Usual sort of thing. "Has thy brother bought a boot-jack?" "I wish these six volumes of Molière's plays to be bound in half calf." And so forth. This one is the same, only in French.
Custom-house officer, in beautiful uniform and bright green gloves, very strict in his examination of my luggage. The green gloves travel all over my property, and bring out a small cardboard box. Triumphant expression on official's face. He has caught me. Open box, and show him it contains a few white ties. His face now shows only doubt and amazement. Cannot explain to him verbally. Evidently useless to mention the binding of Molière's plays. The green glovesbeckon another custom-house officer, also wearing bright green gloves. Together they examine my harmless white ties. It seems to me the green gloved hands are held up in pious horror. Try them in French, in Italian, in English. No good. Should perhaps tip them in Spanish. But why wastepesetas? So refrain. They shake their heads still more suspiciously. The only thing remaining for me to do is to ask if the brother of one of them has bought a boot-jack. Does not seem very appropriate, but, if said politely, might imply that I wish to change the subject. Am just about to begin the note of interrogation upside down, which gives such an uncanny air to a Spanish question, when they cease looking at my ties, and I pass on.
Barcelona.—Shall have no difficulty here. Have been told that French is spoken everywhere. If not, then English or Italian. Everyone in the hotel speaks French. To the bank. Manager speaks English beautifully. Buy some cigarettes. Old woman in the shop speaks Italian. Shall get on capitally. Need not trouble to carry the conversation-book in my pocket.
In the evening to the opera. Walk out between the acts, seeing Spaniards also walking out, and enter a café. Order coffee. Waiter brings a huge glass of water, and a cup, filled to the brim with sugar, on which theverseuris about to pour my drink. Stop him. Explain in French that I take no sugar. The two, and another waiter, stand round me, with dazed faces. By Jove, they speak only Spanish! Wish I had the conversation-book. But should probably have found something like "Nous ne voulons pas faire une excursion en mer, parce qu'il fait trop de vent," or "Ces bottines sont un peu étroites, veuillez les élargir." No good trying talking. Turn out eight or ten lumps of sugar, and so get my coffee. Then return to the opera. Four polite officials at the entrance gaze wonderingly at the counterfoil of my ticket, which I concluded served for readmission, no pass ticket being offered. Ask each one, in turn, if he speaks French. He does not. Oh for the conversation-book! If only I could say "Tous les tableaux dans le Salon Carré du Louvre sont des chefs-d'œuvre," or "Est-ce que mademoiselle votre sœur joue du piano?" I should have shown myself to be an individual withinnocent and refined tastes, and not a socialist or a brigand. The second phrase would have been singularly appropriate in the opera house. Alas, I cannot! So address them in French, with bows and smiles. And they respond in Spanish, evidently with great courtesy, also with bows and smiles, and let me pass in, probably because they cannot make me understand that I ought to stop out. For the future I must carry that conversation-book everywhere.
OVERHEARD NEAR BERGENOVERHEARD NEAR BERGENNorwegian Host(whose English is not perfect—to British tourist). "What that I tell you, sarr, it is quite true. Nansen killed his last dog to save the others!"
Norwegian Host(whose English is not perfect—to British tourist). "What that I tell you, sarr, it is quite true. Nansen killed his last dog to save the others!"
(THE IDEAL) THE MERRY SWISS BOY (THE REAL)(THE IDEAL) THE MERRY SWISS BOY (THE REAL)
(THE IDEAL) THE MERRY SWISS GIRL (THE REAL)(THE IDEAL) THE MERRY SWISS GIRL (THE REAL)
GOING TO THE BATTLE OF FLOWERS AT NICEGOING TO THE BATTLE OF FLOWERS AT NICE
SUDDEN INTERRUPTION OF THE BATTLE OFSUDDEN INTERRUPTION OF THE BATTLE OF FLOWERS AT NICE. "SAUVE QUI PEUT!"
'L'ENTENTE CORDIALE'"L'ENTENTE CORDIALE"A Sketch on the Normandy Coast.
A Sketch on the Normandy Coast.
(By our Blasé Contributor)
That I missed so many chances of doing something more or less novel on the continent.
That I did not try a cup of coffee on Dover Pierbeforestarting for Calais.
That I avoided the smoke-room when the steamboat passed through a choppy sea mid-Channel.
That I did not "declare" something to thedouane, to see what would come of it.
That I did not stay a day at St. Pol, and then take the slow train to Boulogne, stopping an hour or so at each of the interim stations.
That I did not go to a third-rate hotel on the wrong side of the Seine to find out what it was like.
That I didn't do the Bois de Boulogne in a fog.
That I left Paris without seeing Père-la-Chaise in a Scotch mist.
That I did not ride a horse in Venice.
That I neglected to spend a couple of days in the Catacombs in Rome.
That I refused to picnic on the top of the Tower of Pisa under an umbrella.
That I neglected to return to Marseilles by a cargo-boat.
That I followed no system at Monte Carlo.
That I went out in summer clothing at Nice.
That I took the train up the Rhine instead of one of the lumbering steam-boats.
That I overslept myself at the summit of the Rigi, instead of catching cold under a blanket.
That I followed the system of Mark Tapley without attempting cheerfulness.
Finally, that when I was in Japan, I did not save myself further boredom by personally patronising "the happy despatch."
—First-class abroad is patronised by princes, millionaires, fools,andwise men.
A sight-seeing trip would be far pleasanter without the sight-seeing.
English as she is written at Zermatt.—
On the back of the business card of a Zermatt shoemaker is the following notice:—
"Pay attention to thisVisitors are kindly invited to brought your boots self to the schoemaker, then they are frequently nagled by the Portier and that is very dammageable for boots and kosts the same price."
A REMINDERA REMINDER"Well, good-bye, old man. We've had a high old time in dear old Paris, haven't we! To me it all seems like a dream!""So it would to me, old man, if you didn't owe me thirteen francs!"
"Well, good-bye, old man. We've had a high old time in dear old Paris, haven't we! To me it all seems like a dream!"
"So it would to me, old man, if you didn't owe me thirteen francs!"
(By the Expert Wrinkler)
Where to spend Saturday to Monday is, of course, the prevailing and stubborn problem in many of the stately homes of England. What then must be the difficulty when the question to be answered is where to spend the Easter holidays? The reply depends, of course, very much upon the time that can be expended upon the vacation. If, to take an example, a gentleman has only a week at his disposal, it is little use his thinking very seriously of India or the Cape; but Paris is, of course, well within his power. Given a fortnight he might get as far as Rome if he wished to, although for my part I prefer Monte. On this favourite resort, however, I need not dwell at present, as my readers will remember a paragraph on Monte and suitable costume there which I wrote some two or three years ago on the occasion of one of the infrequent breakings of the bank.
Scene--South of France Winter ResortScene—South of France Winter ResortAunt."Kitty, if you don't behave yourself properly, I'll tell your mamma. When I was your age, I was a good girl."Kitty."And are you very wicked now, aunt?"
Scene—South of France Winter Resort
Aunt."Kitty, if you don't behave yourself properly, I'll tell your mamma. When I was your age, I was a good girl."
Kitty."And are you very wicked now, aunt?"
AN INNOCENT OFFENDERAN INNOCENT OFFENDERWhat is all this about? Why, it is against the law to carry plants of any kind, alive or dead, into Italy, and the officials at the Italian dogana (custom-house) near Mentone have just been told that an English gentleman, with a rose in his button hole, has strolled by, towards Ventimiglia. So they are after the unsuspecting criminal!
What is all this about? Why, it is against the law to carry plants of any kind, alive or dead, into Italy, and the officials at the Italian dogana (custom-house) near Mentone have just been told that an English gentleman, with a rose in his button hole, has strolled by, towards Ventimiglia. So they are after the unsuspecting criminal!
'ARRY'S AND 'ARRIET'S 'OLIDAY TRIP'ARRY'S AND 'ARRIET'S 'OLIDAY TRIP
Scene--Hotel in CologneScene—Hotel in CologneFidgety English Party."There seems to be quite a commotion in the hotel, Kellner!"Kellner."Ja wohl! Dedrainhas chust gom in, kvite full!"[Fidgety Party, who is not yet accustomed to theGerman way of pronouncing English, is aghast.
Scene—Hotel in Cologne
Fidgety English Party."There seems to be quite a commotion in the hotel, Kellner!"
Kellner."Ja wohl! Dedrainhas chust gom in, kvite full!"
[Fidgety Party, who is not yet accustomed to theGerman way of pronouncing English, is aghast.
Any gentleman who really wishes to acquire a reputation as a citizen of the world must be supplied with a large number of travelling outfits which he can pack at a moment's notice. A compendious bag fitted with requirements for the moors is always handy under my bed; and I am ready to start for the Riviera, the Normandy coast, Paris, Switzerland, the Bavarian Alps, the Rhine, Norway, Palestine, Iceland, at ten minutes' notice, according as the invitation may be worded. No gentleman at all in demand can afford to dispense with such preparations. But to make travel really pleasant, remember that you must not only do in Rome as Rome does, but you must dress as Rome (or Paris) expects you to.
Paris being the favourite Easter resort, I cannot do better, even at the risk of repeating myself, than give a few hints as to costume in the gay city. A strong light suit of tweed dittoes, of a pronouncedcheck pattern, should be the basis of one's wardrobe. By way of headgear a deer-stalker, a cloth, or best of all, a pith helmet, isde rigueurin the English visitor, and if you are not provided by Nature with side-whiskers and long projecting front teeth, you must call in the resources of art to make good these deficiencies.
For a Swiss tour I should recommend the following outfit, A dome-shaped celluloid hat forresisting the impact of avalanches; two climbing suits of stout Welsh homespun or Irish frieze (do not make the mistake of wounding the susceptibilities of the localfaunaby choosing chamois leather, otherwise an excellent substance); hot-water tube puttees and purpoise-hide brogues. A good supply of alpenstocks and blue veils is indispensable. For hotel life, I recommend tourists to take their own mosquito curtains, a pianola, and a portable swimming-bath. The changes of temperature in Switzerland are so sudden that one must be prepared for every emergency. If the noontide glare has to be faced, bombazine bloomers will be found most refreshing. But if the Matterhorn is to be scaled by moonlight you cannot be too warmly clad.
What I would impress on any intending traveller, then, is to be prepared within certain limits to accommodate his dress to that of the country he proposes to visit. It is quite a mistake to suppose that this will involve any serious outlay. Foreigners, though sensitive, are considerate, andwill not expect strangers to adopt every detail of their national costume. For instance, I have found that the alterations needful for a visit to Vienna are very few indeed. The absolute minimum is a butterfly tie, but I should also recommend a bottle ofpommade Hongroiseand a tall hat with a flat brim. The ordinary brim can be made to lie flat with a little coaxing, and can be curled up afterwards by any good hatter. High heels also create a favourable impression on the foreign mind, and if you take a black coat be sure that it is heavily braided.
I knew a man who said that you would be welcomed anywhere in the Tyrol if you could only jodel. Personally, though I think that a littletul-lul-liety! may be a passport to the affections of the Tyrolese peasant, it has no influence whatever with hotel-keepers. For Italy, a velvet or velveteen coat will make you feel at home, and if this should prove beyond the resources of your purse, then I strongly recommend earrings as the irreducible minimum. The preliminary operation,I admit, is a little painful, but it soon passes off. Earrings, with a red Garibaldi shirt and a Byron tie, give a man a very stylish and thoroughly peninsular appearance.
What They take Abroad.—What She takes.—Three black silk dresses (Princesse, Watteau, and Duchesse); one green satin robe, with bows; one fancy silk, with embroidered apron; two black grenadines (one square cut); two white grenadines, with lace trimmings; four white tops (two warranted to wash); one violet skirt, with apron and jacket; four dinner dresses (violet, pink, pink and black, and blue); three polonaises (yellow, green, and red); one white worked top, with cardinal bows; two sealskin, one black silk, and three black cloth jackets; long fur cloak, ulster, and grey travelling polonaise; four hats (Gainsborough, brigand, shovel, and pork-pie); four bonnets (black, blue, violet, and red); linen (14 cwt.); boots, slippers, &c. (1 cwt.); extras, toilet, &c. (76 lb.).
What He takes.—Linen (10 lb.); two flannel shirts; an extra pair of boots; his sponge, combs, and brushes; and a wideawake hat.
A STAGGERER!A STAGGERER!Custom-House Officer."Now, then, got anything contraband about ye?"Mate."'Got 'bout bot'l and half brandy; but I'll defy ye to take it fro' me!"
Custom-House Officer."Now, then, got anything contraband about ye?"
Mate."'Got 'bout bot'l and half brandy; but I'll defy ye to take it fro' me!"
WHERE TO GO
Antwerp—if you are not tired of Exhibitions.
Boulogne—if you don't mind the mud of the port.
Cologne—if you are not particular about the comfort of your nose.
Dieppe—if you like bathing in the foreign fashion.
Etretat—if solitude has commanding charms.
Florence—if you are partial to 100° in the shade.
Genoa—if you have no objection to mosquitoes.
Heidelberg—if you are not tired of the everlasting castle.
Interlaken—if the Jungfrau has the advantage of novelty.
Java—if you wish to eat its jelly on the spot.
Kandahar—if you are not afraid of Afghan treachery.
Lyons—if you are fond of riots andémeutes.
Marseilles—if you are determined to do the Château D'If.
Naples—if you are anxious to perform anante mortemduty.
Ouchy—if you like it better than Lausanne.
Paris—if you have not been there for at least a fortnight.
Quebec—if you are qualifying for admission to a lunatic asylum.
Rome—if you have never had the local fever and want to try it.
Strasbourg—if you are hard up for an appropriate destination.
Turin—if it is the only town you have not seen in Italy.
Uig—if you affect the Isle of Skye in a thunderstorm.
Venice—if you scorn stings and evil odours.
Wiesbaden—if you can enjoy scenery minus gambling.
Yokohama—if you are willing to risk assault and battery.
Zurich—if you can think of no other place to visit.
N.B.—The above places are where to go on the keep-moving-tourist plan. But when you want to know "Where to stay,"—we reply, "At Home."
THE 'MERRY SWISS BOY'THE "MERRY SWISS BOY"
A NEW VERSION OF THE WELL-KNOWN BALLAD
(Respectfully dedicated by Mr. Punch to the Alpine Tourist, on his return home)
Mr. Punchsingeth to Swiss Landlord—Come, carouse thee, carouse thee, my knowing Swiss boy,Sack thy gains, and from labour away.Stick the tongue in the cheek, and sing "La République(Likel'Empire, as we know)c'est la paye!"The season's done, with purses low,The weary tourists homeward flow—Then carouse thee, carouse thee, my knowing Swiss boy,Sack thy gains, and from labour away!Swiss Landlord respondeth—Am not I, am not I, say, a merry Swiss boy,When I hie from the mountain away?Les Milordsthey may climb, without reason or rhyme,But,beigott, for their climb they shall pay.My shutters up, no thieves to fear,Till back the tourists come next year,Then will I, then will I, as the merry Swiss boy,Take purses upon the highway!By the nose, by the nose, sir, the knowing Swiss boyTheMilordsandMiladiscan lead;Through the nose, through the nose, too, the knowing Swiss boyTheMilordsandMiladiscan bleed:Hotels so high high charges grow;Point d argent, point de Suisse, you know.So withVivent les Anglais! locks the merry Swiss boyThe francs in his strong-box away!
Mr. Punchsingeth to Swiss Landlord—
Mr. Punchsingeth to Swiss Landlord—
Come, carouse thee, carouse thee, my knowing Swiss boy,Sack thy gains, and from labour away.Stick the tongue in the cheek, and sing "La République(Likel'Empire, as we know)c'est la paye!"The season's done, with purses low,The weary tourists homeward flow—Then carouse thee, carouse thee, my knowing Swiss boy,Sack thy gains, and from labour away!
Come, carouse thee, carouse thee, my knowing Swiss boy,
Sack thy gains, and from labour away.
Stick the tongue in the cheek, and sing "La République
(Likel'Empire, as we know)c'est la paye!"
The season's done, with purses low,
The weary tourists homeward flow—
Then carouse thee, carouse thee, my knowing Swiss boy,
Sack thy gains, and from labour away!
Swiss Landlord respondeth—
Swiss Landlord respondeth—
Am not I, am not I, say, a merry Swiss boy,When I hie from the mountain away?Les Milordsthey may climb, without reason or rhyme,But,beigott, for their climb they shall pay.My shutters up, no thieves to fear,Till back the tourists come next year,Then will I, then will I, as the merry Swiss boy,Take purses upon the highway!
Am not I, am not I, say, a merry Swiss boy,
When I hie from the mountain away?
Les Milordsthey may climb, without reason or rhyme,
But,beigott, for their climb they shall pay.
My shutters up, no thieves to fear,
Till back the tourists come next year,
Then will I, then will I, as the merry Swiss boy,
Take purses upon the highway!
By the nose, by the nose, sir, the knowing Swiss boyTheMilordsandMiladiscan lead;Through the nose, through the nose, too, the knowing Swiss boyTheMilordsandMiladiscan bleed:Hotels so high high charges grow;Point d argent, point de Suisse, you know.So withVivent les Anglais! locks the merry Swiss boyThe francs in his strong-box away!
By the nose, by the nose, sir, the knowing Swiss boy
TheMilordsandMiladiscan lead;
Through the nose, through the nose, too, the knowing Swiss boy
TheMilordsandMiladiscan bleed:
Hotels so high high charges grow;
Point d argent, point de Suisse, you know.
So withVivent les Anglais! locks the merry Swiss boy
The francs in his strong-box away!
["Steamers have been started on the Grand Canal at Venice."—Globe.]
I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs,A palace and a prison on each hand.I saw from out the wave black funnels riseWhence clouds of densest smoke I saw expand,And common steamboats, at a penny a mile,O'er the canal—saw many a person landUpon the piers. O Anguish! it does rileThe Bard to see all this—and what a smell of ile!
I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs,A palace and a prison on each hand.I saw from out the wave black funnels riseWhence clouds of densest smoke I saw expand,And common steamboats, at a penny a mile,O'er the canal—saw many a person landUpon the piers. O Anguish! it does rileThe Bard to see all this—and what a smell of ile!
I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs,
A palace and a prison on each hand.
I saw from out the wave black funnels rise
Whence clouds of densest smoke I saw expand,
And common steamboats, at a penny a mile,
O'er the canal—saw many a person land
Upon the piers. O Anguish! it does rile
The Bard to see all this—and what a smell of ile!
Briton, assuage this futile rage!Your curses are in vain.You vow you'll go, but well I knowYou'll cut to come again!
Briton, assuage this futile rage!Your curses are in vain.You vow you'll go, but well I knowYou'll cut to come again!
Briton, assuage this futile rage!
Your curses are in vain.
You vow you'll go, but well I know
You'll cut to come again!
THE RETURN OF THE TOURISTTHE RETURN OF THE TOURIST
ADVANTAGES OF A CLASSICAL EDUCATIONADVANTAGES OF A CLASSICAL EDUCATIONMr. Mould."Let it remain here, and I'll come back for it!"Chef de Gare."Je n'comprends pas, m'sieur!"Mrs. Mould."Try him inLatin, my love."Mr. Mould."All right. Look here, mossoo—Requiescat in pace—resurgam!"Chef de Gare."Ah! parfaitement! Que ça reste ici, et puis vous reviendrez!"
Mr. Mould."Let it remain here, and I'll come back for it!"
Chef de Gare."Je n'comprends pas, m'sieur!"
Mrs. Mould."Try him inLatin, my love."
Mr. Mould."All right. Look here, mossoo—Requiescat in pace—resurgam!"
Chef de Gare."Ah! parfaitement! Que ça reste ici, et puis vous reviendrez!"
FIRST IMPRESSIONS
There is no doubt that one's first impressions are always the brightest and the best; therefore I resolve to record the first impressions of a first visit to the Italian lakes.
"British Bellagio,"—
"Hôtel Victoria, Prince de Galles et des Iles Britanniques," or some such name, is usually, asBaedeker says, "frequented by the English." They are here certainly, and one hears one's native language everywhere. There are the honeymoon couples, silent and reserved, who glare fiercely at anyone who might be supposed to imagine for a moment that they are newly married; there are people who converse in low monotonous voices about the weather, which changes every hour; there is an old lady, who gives one startling information, telling one, forinstance, that Paul Veronese was born at Verona; and there are two or three British menservants, gazing with superb disdain at the poor foreigners. The hotel is very quiet. The evening of a week-day is like Sunday evening, and Sunday evening is——!!! If only the weather were not also English, or even worse. On the last day of September the only warm place is by the fire in thefumoir. So let us hurry off from this wintry climate to somewhere, to anywhere. By the first boat we go.
Still English everywhere. At Bellagio a great crowd, and heaps of luggage. At Cadenabbia a greater crowd, and more heaps of luggage. Here they come, struggling along the gangway in the wind. There is a sad-faced Englishman, his hands full of packages, his pockets stuffed with others, carrying under his arm a little old picture wrapped loosely in pink tissue paper, which the wind blows here and there. He is a forgetful man, for he wanders to and fro collecting his possessions. With him is another forgetful Englishman in very shabby clothes, who also carries packages in paper, and who drags after him an immensely fatbull-dog at the end of a cord five yards long, which winds round posts and human legs and other obstacles. At last they are all on board—the forgetful Englishmen have darted back for the last time to fetch in an ice-axe and an old umbrella—and on we go over the grey water, past the grey hills, under the grey sky, towards Como. At Cernobbio the shabby Englishman lands, dragging his bull-dog at the end of the cord, and carrying in his arms two rolls of rugs, a bag, and other trifles. His sad-faced companion, still holding his tiny Old Master in the ever-diminishing pink paper, wanders in and out seeking forgotten treasures, an ice-axe, a bag, another paper parcel. Finally all are landed, the gangway is withdrawn, the steamer begins to move. Suddenly there is a shout. The shabby Englishman has forgotten something. The sympathetic passengers look round. There is a solitary umbrella on a seat No doubt that is his. A friendly stranger cries, "Is this yours?" and tosses it to him on the quay. Then there is another shout. "Ach Himmel, dat is mine!" The frantic German waves his arms, the umbrella is tossed back, he catches it and ishappy. But meanwhile another English man, the most egregious ass that ever lived, has discovered yet another solitary umbrella, which he casts wildly into space. For one moment the captain, the passengers, the people on the quay, gaze breathless as it whirls through the air. It falls just short of the landing-stage, and sinks into the grey waters of that chilly lake, never more to be recovered, in any sense of the word. In those immeasurable depths its neat silk covering will decay, its slender frame will fall to pieces. It has gone for ever. Beneath this grey Italian sky some Italian gamp must keep off these Italian showers. Then the captain, the passengers, and the people smile and laugh. I, who write this, am the only one on whose face there is not a grin, for that umbrella was mine.
A First Impressionist.
["A more silent city than Bruges does not exist."—Standard.]
What?Bruges a silent city!Now, nay a thousand times!If deaf, accept our pity;If not,—oh dear! those chimes!
What?Bruges a silent city!Now, nay a thousand times!If deaf, accept our pity;If not,—oh dear! those chimes!
What?Bruges a silent city!
Now, nay a thousand times!
If deaf, accept our pity;
If not,—oh dear! those chimes!
SIX OF ONE, HALF-A-DOZEN OF THE OTHERSIX OF ONE, HALF-A-DOZEN OF THE OTHERThree of our Countrywomen Abroad."Well, I never!To turn round, and stare at one like that!"
Three of our Countrywomen Abroad."Well, I never!To turn round, and stare at one like that!"
A VIEW ON THE FRENCH COASTA VIEW ON THE FRENCH COAST
Talkabout lazy time!—Come to this sunny clime—Life is flowing rhyme—Pleasant its cadenceZephyrs are blowing freeOver the summer sea,Sprinkling deliciouslyMerry Mermaidens!Despite the torrid heat,Toilettes are quite complete;White are the little feet,Fair are the tresses:Maidens here swim or sink,Clad in blue serge—I thinkSome are in mauve or pink—Gay are the dresses!If you know Etretât,You'll knowM'sieu là—Oh, such a strong papa!—Ever out boating.You'll know his babies too,Toto and Lolalou,All the long morning throughDiving and floating.Oh what a merry crew!Fresh from the water blue,Rosy and laughing too—Daring and dripping!Look at each merry mite,Held up a dizzy height,Laughing from sheer delight—Fearless of slipping!He hath a figure grand—Note, as he takes his stand,Poised upon either hand,Merry young mer-pets:Drop them! You strong papa,Swim back to Etretât!Here comes their dear mamma,Seeking forherpets!
Talkabout lazy time!—Come to this sunny clime—Life is flowing rhyme—Pleasant its cadenceZephyrs are blowing freeOver the summer sea,Sprinkling deliciouslyMerry Mermaidens!
Talkabout lazy time!—
Come to this sunny clime—
Life is flowing rhyme—
Pleasant its cadence
Zephyrs are blowing free
Over the summer sea,
Sprinkling deliciously
Merry Mermaidens!
Despite the torrid heat,Toilettes are quite complete;White are the little feet,Fair are the tresses:Maidens here swim or sink,Clad in blue serge—I thinkSome are in mauve or pink—Gay are the dresses!
Despite the torrid heat,
Toilettes are quite complete;
White are the little feet,
Fair are the tresses:
Maidens here swim or sink,
Clad in blue serge—I think
Some are in mauve or pink—
Gay are the dresses!
If you know Etretât,You'll knowM'sieu là—Oh, such a strong papa!—Ever out boating.You'll know his babies too,Toto and Lolalou,All the long morning throughDiving and floating.
If you know Etretât,
You'll knowM'sieu là—
Oh, such a strong papa!—
Ever out boating.
You'll know his babies too,
Toto and Lolalou,
All the long morning through
Diving and floating.
Oh what a merry crew!Fresh from the water blue,Rosy and laughing too—Daring and dripping!Look at each merry mite,Held up a dizzy height,Laughing from sheer delight—Fearless of slipping!
Oh what a merry crew!
Fresh from the water blue,
Rosy and laughing too—
Daring and dripping!
Look at each merry mite,
Held up a dizzy height,
Laughing from sheer delight—
Fearless of slipping!
He hath a figure grand—Note, as he takes his stand,Poised upon either hand,Merry young mer-pets:Drop them! You strong papa,Swim back to Etretât!Here comes their dear mamma,Seeking forherpets!
He hath a figure grand—
Note, as he takes his stand,
Poised upon either hand,
Merry young mer-pets:
Drop them! You strong papa,
Swim back to Etretât!
Here comes their dear mamma,
Seeking forherpets!
'ARRY'S 'OLIDAY; B'LOGNE AND BACK'ARRY'S 'OLIDAY; B'LOGNE AND BACK
HARRY'S SON'S HOLIDAY REMINISCENCES--HOLLANDHARRY'S SON'S HOLIDAY REMINISCENCES—HOLLAND(Drorn all by himself, and signed "Harry's Son")
(Drorn all by himself, and signed "Harry's Son")
'ARRY ON THE BOULEVARDS'ARRY ON THE BOULEVARDS
(From the Journal of a Travelling Economist)
["On the other hand, however, we must avow some apprehension that too minute attention to the possibility of cheap travel may render a Continental tour a continual vexation and trouble. Plain living and high thinking are, as Mr. Capper says, crying wants of these days; but the latter condition is hardly to be attained by the self-imposed necessity of striking a bargain with a landlord at the end of each day's journey."—Times.]
["On the other hand, however, we must avow some apprehension that too minute attention to the possibility of cheap travel may render a Continental tour a continual vexation and trouble. Plain living and high thinking are, as Mr. Capper says, crying wants of these days; but the latter condition is hardly to be attained by the self-imposed necessity of striking a bargain with a landlord at the end of each day's journey."—Times.]
3A.M.—Roused for the seventeenth time since midnight. Vow I will never go to a fourth-class hotel again. Try to get a little sleep on fourchairs and a sliding bureau. Can't. Begin a letter to theTimesin my head.
4A.M.—Get up and look for ink. Wake the others. Order five breakfasts for seven of us, and explain to the landlord that we have to catch the 4.57 cheap "omnibus" train for Farthingheim.
5A.M.—Row with landlord aboutbougies. Will charge for them, though we all went to bed in the dark. Explain this. He snaps his fingers in my face, calls me "Ein schwindlinder Beleidiger!" refuses to split the breakfasts, and seizes my portmanteau.
6A.M.—Row still proceeding. Cheap train hopelessly missed. Look out "Beleidiger" in a dictionary, and go upstairs and collect all thebougiesin a carpet-bag. Pay bill in full, threaten to write toBradshaw, and go off, carrying all our own luggage to station, followed by a jeering crowd.
7A.M.—Sit down on it, and, with the assistance of a Phrase-book, tell the crowd in German that "this isn't the sort of treatment a parcel of foreigners would experience, under similar circumstances, in the Tottenham Court Road."
Pelted. Make up our minds to catch the 7.43 (fast), if we can.
8A.M.—Miss it. Nothing till the 12.3 express. Station-master refuses to take our luggage before 11.58. Start with it to the town. Crowd increasing.
9A.M.—Visit the Dom. Descend into Shrine of St. Berthold. Very interesting. Guide well-informed and intelligent. Give him nothing on principle. Follows us to the Alten Schloss, shouting at the top of his voice, and shaking his fists.
10A.M.—Go all over the Schloss. Capital state of preservation. Are shown the "reserved apartments." Refuse to give anything to theconcierge. He comes out after us with a horse-whip. The guide still there shouting. We ask the way to tomb of Gustavus the Ninth. Crowd follows us with brickbats.
11A.M.—Get in by the assistance of a very civil commissionaire. Striking. Are shown the boots of Charlemagne, and the spot where Rudolph the Eighteenth was assassinated. Sign our names in visitors' book. Give nobody anything. Commissionaire walks by our side, calling us "Brigands!" Crowd enormous. Symptoms of riot commencing. Reach station exhausted.
12Noon.—Prepared to pay anything to escape. Take seven first-class tickets (express), and are charged nineteen thalers for excess of luggage. Get off in a storm of execration, after having to give up all thebougiesto a gendarme. Start, threatening feebly to write to theTimes, have hysterics, and go to sleep.
1P.M.—Still hysterical.
2P.M.—Ditto.
3P.M.—Still hysterical.
4P.M.—Ditto.
5P.M.—Ditto.
6P.M.—Arrive. Refuse to hire avoiture. Tell the omnibus conductor, with the aid of the Phrasebook, that his tariff of fares is "utterly ridiculous." Set out on foot in search of agasthausof moderate pretensions, where no English have been to demoralise the landlord and raise the prices.
7.P.M.—Still searching.
8P.M.—Ditto.
9P.M.—Ditto.
10P.M.—Ditto.
11P.M.—Find what we want at last, in a dark alley, turning out of a side street, running precipitously to the river. Dine at the latetable d'hôtewith one commercial traveller, on pickled cherries, raw bacon, cabbage, sugar biscuits, horseflesh, and petrified figs.
12Midnight.—Retire, and have nightmare.
1A.M.—Endeavour to sleep on three chairs and a washhand-stand. Can't. Determine to write to theTimes.
2A.M.—Left writing.