Wonder what age I was last birthday? Wonder if police inspectors are as a rule fond of bathing? Wonder what gave me that idea? Wonder what I shall do all this evening? [Illustration: A HIGH SEA OVER THE BAR] _Same day, after supper, Moonlight, lying on the beach._ Wonder if there ever was such a creature as a mermaid? Wonder several times more than ever who it is that's so fond of my dry sherry? Wonder if the Pope can swim? Wonder what made me think of that? Wonder if I should like to go up in a balloon? Wonder what Speke and Grant had for dinner to-day? Wonder if the Zoological Gardens are open at sunrise? Wonder what I shall do to-morrow? * * * * * FRUIT TO BE AVOIDED BY BATHERS.--Currants. * * * * * [Illustration: SHOPPING _Lady_ (_at Seaside "Emporium"_). "How much are those--ah--improvers?" _Shopman._ "Improv--hem!--They're not, ma'am"--(_confused_)--"not--not the article you require, ma'am. They're fencing-masks, ma'am!" [_Tableau!_ ] * * * * * [Illustration: DEA EX MACHINÂ! (_A Reminiscence_)] * * * * * [Illustration: A LARGE BUMP OF CAUTION _Flora._ "Oh, let us sit here, aunt, the breeze is so delightful." _Aunt._ "Yes--it's very nice, I dare say; but I won't come any nearer to the cliff, for I am always afraid of _slipping through those railings_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A BOAT FOR AN HOUR _Stout Gentleman._ "What! is that the only boat you have in?"] * * * * * A SEASIDE REVERIE [Illustration] I think, as I sit at my ease on the shingle, And list to the musical voice of the Sea, How gaily my Landlady always will mingle From my little caddy her matutine tea. And vainly the bitter remembrance I banish Of mutton just eaten, my heart is full sore, To think after one cut it's certain to vanish, And never be seen on my board any more. Some small store of spirit to moisten my throttle I keep, and indulge in it once in a way; But, bless you, it seems to fly out of the bottle And swiftly decrease, though untouched all the day. My sugar and sardines, my bread and my butter, Are eaten, and vainly I fret and I frown; My Landlady, just like an Æsthete's too utter A fraud, and I vow that I'll go back to Town. * * * * * [Illustration: THE MORNING PAPERS Sketch from our window, 10 A.M., at Sludgeborough Ness.] * * * * * [Illustration] THE NURSEMAID'S FRIEND