A WHITSUN HOLIDAY.

(A Page from a Modern Diary.)

Monday.—Up with the lark. Breakfast not ready. Spent my spare time in closing the boxes. Got the family into the train with difficulty. Devoted the day to travelling. Reached our destination tired out. Glad to get to bed.

Tuesday.—Up with the lark. Did the sights. Had no time to look at anything, as I had to attend to the tickets. Saw all the museums. My party coming out when I had got the catalogues. So managed our visits that there was no opportunity of discussing meals. Got back in time for table d'hôte, but preferred sleep to food. Went to bed.

Wednesday.—Up with the lark. Off again travelling. On the road all day. Having to fit in the corresponding trains, had no leisure for meals. Arrived at our new resting-place late at night. So off as quickly as possible to bed.

Thursday.—Up with the lark. Spent the morning in sight-seeing under the customary conditions. Waited upon the family. Looked after the catalogues and umbrellas. Food again at a discount. Dispensed with dinner. Glad to get to bed.

Friday.—Up with the lark. Time to return. Back again by a train. No food. No rest. Halfway home. Arrived in time to see the lights being put out. Off to bed.

Saturday.—Up with the lark. Continued my journey post-haste. Wrote up my diary. Find that I have got over several hundreds of miles; but for the life of me cannot remember anything that I have seen. Don't recollect any square meal. Back again, tired, and only pleased to be in bed.

Sunday.—Sleeping.

Monday.—Up with the lark. Recovered from my week's "rest," and glad to get back again to work.

BY A SEA-SICK PASSENGER

Motto for American Millionairesses.— "Marry, come up!"

Scientific and Nervous Visitor at Country Hotel. "I suppose there's no 'ptomaine' in this pie?"

Waiter (equal to the occasion). "No, sir. We never puts that in unless specially ordered!"

Dartmoor Way.

Tourist (in background). "I say! Percy! We'd better be going now—unless you can see anything striking from where you are!"

Scene—Railway Refreshment Room. Thermometer 90° in the Shade.

Waiter (to traveller taking tea). "Beg pardon, sir, I shouldn't recommend that milk, sir; leastways not for drinking purposes."

Halcyon Prospects.

Romantic Bride (ecstatically). "Such a waste of waters almost appals me!"

Prudent Husband (fondly). "What a dear little economist it is!"

Tourist. "Wasn't there a great battle fought about here?"

Village Dame. "Ah, I do mind it when I were a gell, I do. They was——"

Tourist. "But, my good woman, that was nearly six hundred years ago!"

Village Dame (unabashed). "Dear, dear! How time do fly!"

"And she only charged eight-and-a-half guineas, and"—(Interruption from Husbands. "Isn't the view marvellous!"

General chorus in reply. "Oh—er—Yes!")—"and now I simply go there for everything!"

French and English (as zey are spoke at ze country 'ouse).—Hostess. "Oh—er—j'espair ker voos avvy troovy votre—votre—er—er—votre collar stud, barrong?"

M. le Baron. "Oh, I zank you, yes! I find 'eem on my chest of trowsers!"

PERAMBULATORS NOT ADMITTED

A Disappointment. [To perambulate, v.n.; in German, spazieren; in French, se promener; in Italian, passeggiare.]—Johann Schmidt. "Ach! vat a bitty, Mister Chones! Zen ve must not go therein to berampulate?"

Chatty Tourist. "Beautiful specimen of a Roman camp, this, isn't it?"

Grim Stranger. "No, sir, no! I decline to admit that there can be any true beauty about anything Roman!"