A DREAM-BOOK
Reading edition
For Would-be Travellers.
If you dream of—
Antwerp. Remember the Reubens and forget the passage over.
Boulogne. Remember the Casino and forget the Port.
Calais. Remember the Restaurant at the station and forget the dull surroundings.
Dieppe. Remember the Plage and forget the occasional gales.
Etretat. Remember the sands and forget the prices.
Florence. Remember the pictures and forget the heat.
Geneva. Remember the lake and forget the city.
Heidelberg. Remember the castle and forget the climbing.
Interlachen. Remember the Jung Frau and forget the tourists.
Japan. Remember the interesting associations and forget the length of the journey.
Lisburn. Remember that it is little known and forget that it is not worth seeing.
Madrid. Remember that you can get there in two days and forget that you will regret the time you spend upon the trip.
Naples. Remember that you should see the Bay and forget that you are expected to die immediately afterwards.
Paris. Remember that it is always pleasant and forget that the exception is during August.
Quebec. Remember it's in Canada and forget that it's the least pleasing place in America.
Rome. Remember its objects of interest and forget its fever.
Strasbourg. Remember that it has a Cathedral and forget that the clock is a fraud.
Turin. Remember that it might be quite worth the journey and forget that it isn't.
Venice. Remember its canals and forget its odours.
Vichy. Remember that there is a good hotel and forget that you have been there a dozen times before.
Wiesbaden. Remember the glories of its past and forget the sadness of its present.
Zurich. Remember that it is completely abroad and forget that there's no place like home.
GOOD RESOLUTIONS.
Blenkinsop (on a Friend's Yacht) soliloquises. "I know one thing, if ever I'm rich enough to keep a Yacht, I shall spend the Money in Horses."
ONLY THEIR PLAY!
Abnormal natures, morbid motives! Yes! These things, upon the stage, perhaps impress. Monstrosities, not true men's hearts, nor women's. Trolls, with a touch of the delirium tremens, Neurotic neurospasts, puppets whose wires Are pulled by morbid dreams and mad desires; Not men and women 'midst our world's temptations, But fevered phantasy's bizarre creations. Despite Solness and Mrs. Tanqueray, "People don't do these things"—except in play!
As in a Glass Darkly.—Grubby and grovelling "Realists" boast that they only "hold the mirror up to Nature." Perhaps! But when their particular "mirror" happens to be—as it commonly is—dirty and distorting, Nature, like the victim of a bad looking-glass at a country inn, is taken at a disadvantage. There are mirrors which make a man look a monster, but then the monstrosity is not in the man but the mirror.