Because "everybody" is there, and it is consequently so pleasant to see St. John's Wood, Bayswater, and even Belgravia, so well represented on the Esplanade. Because the shops in the King's Road are _nearly_ as good as those to be found in Regent Street. Because the sea does not _always_ look like the Thames at Greenwich in a fog. Because some of the perambulating bands play very nearly in tune. Because the Drive from the Aquarium to the New Pier is quite a mile in length, and only grows monotonous after the tenth turn. Because watching fish confined in tanks is such rollicking fun. Because the Hebrews are so numerously represented on the Green. Because the Clubs are so inexpensive and select. Because the management of the Grand is so very admirable. Because it is so pleasant to follow the Harriers on a hired hack in company with other hired hacks. Because the half-deserted Skating Rinks are so very amusing. Because it is so nice to hear second-rate scandal about third-rate people. Because the place is not always being visited by the scarlet fever. Because it is so cheerful to see the poor invalids taking their morning airing in their bath-chairs. Because the streets are paraded by so many young gentlemen from the City. Because the Brighton belles look so ladylike in their quiet Ulsters and unpretending hats. Because the suburbs are so very cheerful in the winter, particularly when it snows or rains. Because on every holiday the Railway Company brings down such a very nice assortment of excursionists to fill the streets. Because Brighton in November is so very like Margate in July. Because, if you did not visit Brighton, you might so very easily go farther and fare worse. * * * * * [Illustration: WESTON-SUPER-MARE] * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--BY THE SAD SEA WAVES _Tomkins, disconsolate on a rock, traces some characters upon the sand._ _To him, Mrs. Tomkins_ (_whose name is Martha_). _Mrs. T._ "Well, Mr. Tomkins, and pray who may Henrietta be?" [_Tomkins utters a yell of despair, and falls prostrate._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: A VIKING ON MODERN FASHION "What does t'lass want wi' yon _boostle_ for? It aren't big enough to _smoggle_ things, and she can't _steer_ herself wi' it!"] * * * * * THE TRIPPER (_By a Resident_) What does he come for? What does he want? Why does he wander thus Careworn and gaunt? Up street and down street with Dull vacant stare, Hither and thither, it Don't matter where? What does he mean by it? Why does he come Hundreds of miles to prowl, Weary and glum, Blinking at Kosmos with Lack-lustre eye? He doesn't enjoy it, he Don't even try!