SUMMER RESORTS

Dreardon-cum-Slooze.

Spring weather, in pleasing variety of sun and snow-shower, now prevails in this highly fla—favoured locality. Mr. Josiah Jorker, Chairman of the Rural District Council here, has bought four black Berkshire pigs, and to lean over the yard gate and inspect them is now a regular afternoon occupation. Discussion as to their merits runs high amongst our local magnates. Situate as this health-giving village is, it offers to the tired brain-worker complete rest, as there is no railway station within six miles, and only the day-before-yesterday's newspaper is obtainable.

Chawboodlecum.

A fine bracing N.E. wind has dried the roads, and, amongst the aged and sick, made a clearance, thoroughly in accord with the "survival of the fittest" doctrine. Trade has never been more brisk with the local undertaker and the much-respected sexton. The cricket club opens its season to-day with a match against the neighbouring village of Sludgely. A "Sing-Song," or "Free and Easy," is held every Saturday night at the "Pig and Puppy-Dog," at which well-known hostelry visitors can find every accommodation.

Slackington.

In this genial and mild air, where a steady, gentle rain falls on very nearly every day in the year, the Londoner, fleeing from the trying east winds of Spring, may find a welcome refuge. It is quite a pretty sight on Sundays to watch the people with their different coloured waterproofs stream out of church. There is a rumour that the present supply of cabs will shortly be augmented by one, if not two, fresh vehicles. On Monday last a German band played a charming selection of music in the market place, and there was a dog-fight in the High Street.

Porkbury.

This charming spot only requires to be known, to insure plenty of patronage from visitors. The new pump is being pushed forward rapidly, and the Vicar intends to hold jumble sales once a week throughout the summer. This, in itself, will, it is expected, prove a great attraction.

Police-Constable Slummers, whose urbanity and great consideration for the inhabitants (especially on Saturday nights) have always been so conspicuous, is about to leave, and some of the more prominent townsmen have taken the opportunity of marking their sense of his valuable services by presenting him with a handsome pewter pot, engraved with his name and the date.

A piano-organist now regularly attends the weekly market, and his music is greatly appreciated by those engaged in buying and selling.

At the Farmer's Eighteenpenny Ordinary, last week, Mr. Chumpjaw stated that his mangolds were "the whackin'est big 'uns" grown in the county.

At Boulogne.—Mrs. Sweetly (on her honeymoon). Isn't it funny, Archibald, to see so many foreigners about? And all talking French!

Patron Saint of Messrs. Cook.—St. Martin of "Tours."

Englishman (to friend). "There goes that awful liar, who says he has climbed everything under the sun."

Friend. "Don't call him a liar. Rather say he has a great talent for exaggerating things that never happened."

A Pleasant Uncertainty.

Gigantic Guide. "Ze last party zat was 'ere—no one knew whezzer zey shumped over or was thrown over!"

A SLIGHT "MALONGTONGDEW"

Angelina. "There are to be illuminations and fireworks, and they're to finish up with an 'ombrasmong général.' What can that be?"

Edwin. "Well, 'ombasser' means to 'kiss'; so I suppose it means a kind of a sort of a general kissing all round."

Angelina. "Horrid idea! I won't go near the place, and I'm sure you shan't, Edwin!"

[Our readers, who know French better than E. and A., are aware that embrasement, with only one "s," has a totally different meaning.

Honeymooning in Paris.

Mrs. Jones. "Am I not an expensive little wifie?"

Jones (who has spent the morning and a small fortune at the Magasin du Louvre). "Well, you are a little dear!"

Quid Pro Quo.

Madame Gaminot. "Oh yes, Monsieur Jones, J'adore les Anglais! Zey understand bisnesse! For example, zey pay me sixty pound—fifteen 'undred franc—to sing 'La Blanchisseuse du Tambour-Major' at a evening party! It seem a great deal! But zey laugh, and zey say, 'Oh, sharmong! Oh, ravissong!' and it mek everybody sink zat everybody else know French—it almost mek zem sink zat zey know it zemselfs!!! Ça vaut bien quinze cents francs, j'espère!"

Tourist (at small Irish inn, miles from anywhere). "Look here, what does this mean? I left my boots out last night, and they haven't been touched."

Landlord (with honest pride). "Thrue for ye, sorr! An' begorr', if ye'd left your gowld watch an' chain out, div'l a sowl wud 'a touched them nayther!"

'Arry Abroad.

Guide. "Monsieur finds eet a vairy eenteresting old place, ees eet not?" 'Arry (who will speak French). "Pas demi!"

BY THE SILVER SEA

Drainsmouth.

This popular health resort is now filled to over-flowing. The entertainments on the pier include animated photographs of a procession to the Woking Crematorium, and other cheerful and interesting subjects. The smells of the harbour may still be enjoyed to perfection at low water.

Shrimpley.

The question of mixed bathing here has at length been set at rest by the Town Council issuing an order that nobody is to bathe at all. A decision so impartial as between the rival factions cannot fail to give satisfaction to all except the captious. Professor De Bach, with his performing dogs, gives an exhibition twice each day at the Pier Pavilion.

Lodgington-on-Sea.

Warm and sunny weather still continues in this favoured spot. People wait half the morning for a bathing-machine and then look rather disappointed when they get it. The Simperton- Swaggeringtons arrived yesterday, travelling first-class from the junction, two miles off (up to which point they had come third). This has excited some unfavourable comment in the town.

Smellington-Super-Mare.

Large numbers of tripp—visitors, I mean, continue to pour into the town from Saturdays to Mondays, benefiting greatly by their small change. The lodging-house keepers also derive considerable benefit from their (the visitors') small change, especially when left lying about on the mantelpiece. No one could complain of dulness here now, for as I write, twenty-three barrel-organs, eleven troupes of nigger minstrels and four blind beggars with fiddles are amusing and delighting their listeners on the sands. The place is thoroughly lively, hardly an hour of the day passing without at least two street rows between inebriated excursionists taking place. The police force has been doubled, and the magistrates have given notice that, for the future, they will give no "option," and that all sentences for assaults in the streets will be with hard labour.

Philological.

First English Groom (new to Paris). "And the French gent as he drives round the corner, he pulls up quick, and calls out 'Woa!'"

Second ditto (who has been in Paris some time). "He couldn't have said 'Woa!' as there ain't no 'W' in French."

First ditto. "No 'W' in French? Then 'ow d'yer spell 'wee'?"

Alarming appearance of a harmless guana just as he has found a nice corner of Sydney Harbour for a sketch.

Mr. Townmouse takes lodgings for his family at a farmhouse in a remote district. Delightful spot; but they weren't so well off for butcher's meat as they could wish.

Farmer. "Now, if your lady 'ud like some nice pork—Oh! she does like pork?—Well, then, we shall kill a pig the week arter next."

A Nice Prospect.

Traveller (benighted in the Black Country). "Not a bed-room disengaged! Tut-t-t-t!"

Landlady (who is evidently in the coal business as well). "Oh, we'll accommodate you somehow, sir, if me and my 'usband gives you up our own bed, sir!"

Things one would rather have left Unsaid.

Professor Chatterleigh. "By George! I'm so hungry I can't talk!"

Fair Hostess (on hospitable thoughts intent). "Oh, I'm so glad!"

ÆSTHETICS

Indiscreet Sister. "Why, Harry, your legs are getting more Chippendale than ever!"

THE JOYS OF TOURING

Traveller. "I say, your razor's pulling most confoundedly!"

Local Torturer. "Be it, zur? Wull, 'old on tight to the chair, an' we'll get it off zummow!"

Cheering.

First Artist (on a pedestrian tour). "Can you tell which is the best inn in Baconhurst?"

Rustic (bewildered). "Dunno."

Second Artist (tired). "But we can get beds there, I suppose? Where do travellers generally go?"

Rustic. "Go to the union moostly!"

MIND AND MATTER-OF-FACT

Cotton-Man (fro' Shoddydale). "What dun yo' co' that wayter?"

Coachman. "Ah, ain't it beautiful? That's Grassmere Lake, that is——"

Cotton-Man. "Yo' co'n 'um all la-akes an' meres i' these pa-arts. We co'n 'um rezzer-voyers where ah com' fro'!!"

Would the epigrammatic translation of "sede vacanti" as "Not well and gone away for a holiday" be accepted by an examiner?

Winter Resort for Bronchially-affected Persons.—Corfe Castle.

Visitor. "And so you've never been to London! Oh, but you must go. It's quite an easy journey, you know."

Gaffer Stokes. "Ah, Oi'd main loike to see Lunnon, Oi wud. Reckon Oi must go afore Oi'm done for. Now which moight be their busy day there, mister?"

To Intending Tourists—"Where shall we go?" All depends on the "coin of 'vantage." Switzerland? Question of money. Motto.—"Point d'argent point de Suisse."

Scene—On the Quay. Ocean liner's syren fog-horn emitting short, sharp grunts.

Little Girl. Oh, mamma, that poor ship must have a drefful pain in its cabin!

Wasted Sympathy.—Scene—Interior of Railway Carriage. Lady (to gentleman who has just entered and is placing one of his fellow passenger's bags on the floor where there is a hot-water bottle). Oh! Excuse me, sir, but, please don't put that near the hot-water bottle. I've got a little bird in the bag.

Elderly Gentleman (who is an enthusiastic Anti-Vivisectionist and prominent member of the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals). Good Heavens, madam! a bird in there! Please consider! How cruel! how inhuman! how—— (gasps for words).

Lady. Not at all, my dear sir. It's a roast partridge, cold, for lunch.

[Collapse of Enthusiast.

Unpleasantly Suggestive Names of "Cure" Places Abroad.—Bad Gastein. Which must be worse than the first day's sniff at Bad-Eggs-la-Chapelle.

Rotatory Knife (and Fork) Machines.—Pullman dining cars.

The Line which is often Drawn.—The Equator.

Thorough but not Pedantic. (Overheard at the Louvre.)—American Tourist (suspiciously). "Say, guide, haven't we seen this room before?"

Guide. "Oh no, monsieur."

Tourist. "Well, see here. We want to see everything, but we don't want to see anything twice!"

Modern Accomplishments.

Captain Brown (narrating his trip to the Continent). "Then, of course, we ran down to Granada, and saw the Alhambra——"

Captain Jinks (untravelled athlete). "No!! What, have they got one there too!!"

Filial Anxiety.

"Going to Paris to-morrow, Tom!"

"How's that?"

"My poor old governor's taken ill there!"

"Going by Dieppe or Boulogne?"

"Rather think I shall go via Monaco!"

OVERDOING IT

Sympathiser. "Sorry you look so seedy after your holiday, old chap!"

Too Energetic Sight-seer. "Well, I am a bit done up, but the doctor says that with rest and great care I may be well enough to have a run-round as usual next year."

Gushing Young Lady (to Mr. Dunk, who has just returned from Rome). "They say, Mr. Dunk, that when one sets foot in Rome for the first time, one experiences a profound feeling of awe. The chaos of ruined grandeur, the magnificent associations, seem too much for one to grasp. Tell me, oh tell me, Mr. Dunk, what did you think of it all?"

Mr. Dunk (deliberately, after considering awhile). "Very nice!"

"Carry your trunk, sir?"

A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE.—Miss Tomboy. Mamma, I think those French women were beastly rude.

Mother. You mustn't speak like that of those ladies, it's very wrong. And how often have I told you not to say "beastly"?

Miss Tomboy. Well, they were rude. They called me a little cabbage (mon petit chou). The next time they do that I shall call them old French beans.

THE TOURIST SEASON. HOTEL BRIGANDAGE