THE SEASIDE PHOTOGRAPHER
Reading edition
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 clientèle 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.
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!"
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!"