_Thursday._--We are in training! Think it rather nonsense. Why should we give up _meringues_ and sponge-cakes? And as to cigarettes, that isn't really a privation, as none of us really like them. A mile's run isn't bad, but it wears out one's shoes terribly. Kate wanted us all to drink stout, but we refused. We have compromised it by taking _fleur d'orange_ mixed with soda-water instead. The Turkish bath is rather long, but you can read a novel after the douche. Take it altogether, perhaps training is rather fun. Still, I think it, as I have already said, nonsense, especially in regard to sponge-cakes and _meringues_. _Friday._--Spent the whole of the morning in practising starts. Everybody disagreeable--Kate absolutely rude. Fancy wanting me to put down my parasol! And then Henrietta (spiteful creature!) declaring that I didn't keep my eye on the steering (we have lost our coxswain--had to pay a visit to some people in the country) because I _would_ look at the people on the banks! And Kate backing her up! I was very angry indeed. So I didn't come to practice in the afternoon, saying I had a bad headache, and went instead to Flora's five o'clock tea. _Saturday._--The day of the race! Everybody in great spirits, and looking their best. Even Henrietta was nice. Our picture-hats were perfectly beautiful. Fanny came out with additional feathers, which wasn't quite fair. But she said, as she was "stroke" she ought to be different from the rest. And as it was too late to have the hat altered we submitted. We started, and got on beautifully. I saw lots of people I knew on the towing-path, and waved to them. And just because I dropped hold of my oar as we got within ten yards of the winning-post they all said it was _my_ fault we lost! Who ever heard the like? The crew are a spiteful set of ugly frumps, and on my solemn word I won't row any more. Yes, it's no use asking me, as I say I won't, and I will stick to it. There! * * * * * [Illustration: THE HYPNOTIC STEWARD (_Specially engaged for the Cross-Channel Service_) ["Dr. Paul Farez asserts that he has found in hypnotism an absolutely infallible remedy for sea-sickness and similar discomforts."--_Daily Paper._] ] * * * * * [Illustration: YACHTING IN LITTLE Squeamish accepts Stunsel's invitation for a month's cruise in his 10-ton yawl. He suffers much. _Stunsel._ "Come, come, Squeamish, old fellow, cheer up! You'll be all right in a week or so!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SOLAR STUDIES IN THE HONEYMOON _She_ (_reading a scientific work_). "Isn't it wonderful, Charley dear, that the sun is supposed to be millions of miles away!" _Charley Dear_ (_suffering from the heat_). "Millions of miles, darling? Good thing for all of us that it isn't any nearer."] * * * * * [Illustration: "'ERE'S YOUR WERRY GOOD 'ELTH, SIR!"] * * * * *