Smith, who, worn with labour, went Off for rest and leisure, Races round the Continent In pursuit of pleasure: Having lunched at Bâle, he will At Lucerne his tea take, Riding till he's faint and ill, Tramping till his feet ache. Shall I, dreaming thus at home, Left ashore behind here, Envy restless men who roam Seeking what I find here? Since beside my native sea, Where I sit to woo it, Pleasure always comes to me, Why should I pursue it? * * * * * [Illustration: THE MURMUR OF THE TIED] * * * * * EXTRA SPECIAL.--_Paterfamilias_ (_inspecting bill, to landlady_). I thought you said, Mrs. Buggins, when I took these apartments, that there were no extras, but here I find boots, lights, cruets, fire, table-linen, sheets, blankets and kitchen fire charged. _Mrs. Buggins._ Lor' bless you, sir, they're not extras, but necessaries. _Paterfamilias._ What, then, do you consider extras? _Mrs. Buggins._ Well, sir, that's a difficult question to answer, but I should suggest salad oil, fly-papers, and turtle soup. [_Paterfamilias drops the subject and pays his account._ * * * * * [Illustration: SUSPICION _Stout Visitor_ (_on discovering that, during his usual nap after luncheon, he has been subjected to a grossly personal practical joke_). "It's one o' those dashed artists that are staying at the 'Lord Nelson' 'a' done this, I know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Aunt Jane._ "It's wonderful how this wireless telegraphy is coming into use!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A DREAM OF THE SEA Ethel, who is not to have a seaside trip this year, dreams every night that she and her mamma and aunt and sisters spread their sash-bows and panniers and fly away to the yellow sands.] * * * * * THE MARGATE BATHING-WOMAN'S LAMENT It nearly broke my widowed art, When first I tuk the notion, That parties didn't as they used, Take reglar to the ocean. The hinfants, darling little soles, Still cum quite frequent, bless 'em! But they is only sixpence each, Which hardly pays to dress 'em. The reason struck me all at once, Says I, "It's my opinion, The grown-up folks no longer bathes Because of them vile Sheenions." The last as cum drest in that style, Says, as she tuk it horf her, "I'm sure I shall not know the way To re-arrange my quoffur!" By which she ment the ed of air, Which call it wot they will, sir; Cum doubtless off a convict at Millbank or Pentonville, sir. The Parliament should pass a law, Which there's sufficient reason; That folks as wear the Sheenions should Bathe reg'lar in the season. * * * * *