AN IDLE HOLIDAY.
Reading edition
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 Bâle, 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?
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.
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!"
Aunt Jane. "It's wonderful how this wireless telegraphy is coming into use!"
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.