"Less than a week at Bullown was quite enough and too much for us. If Sunday here were only lively, it would be a nice change from London, or Dover, or Folkestone, or Ramsgate, as I do not know a pleasanter and easier way to go than starting by the London, Chatting and Dover train at 10 A.M. from Victoria or Holborn Viaduct, arriving at Dover at twelve. Then by one of the comfortablest boats I was ever in, called the _Inflicter_ or _Invigorator_, I couldn't catch which, but Mr. Hackson told me it was Latin for 'unconquered,' which takes you, if it's a fine day and wind and tide favourable, in an hour and a quarter to Callous (or Kally in French), and if you are only going on to Bullown, you have your luggage examined (as if you were a smuggling brigadier!), and you have more than an hour for lunch before you start again. The luncheon at the Kallyous buffy is excellent, and the buffers, who speak English with hardly any accident, are most attentive. Then, when you've finished, you start for Bullown by the 2.45 train, and are at your hotel by 3.30 or thereabouts, which is what I call doing it uxuriously. "But Bullown, as Mr. Hackson said to me, requires some _ongterprenner_, which means 'an undertaker,' to look after it, as it has become so deadly-lively. I think this must be a joke of Mr. Hackson's, one of his _caramboles_, as they call them in French, as what Bullown wants is waking up. As it is now, Bullown is a second-class place, and will soon be a third-class one, which, as Mr. Hackson says, 'Arry and an inferior dummy-mong will have all to themselves. "Yours truly, "M. A. R." [Footnote A: We fancy Mrs. R. means "_Tombola_."] [Illustration: ENGLISH AS SHE IS WRITTEN During his recent tour in Switzerland, Tomkins, who is rather nervous, had a most terrifying experience.] LINES ON (AND OFF) AN ITALIAN MULE [Illustration] O dubious hybrid, what your patronymic Or pedigree may be, does not much matter; But if my own attire you mean to mimic, And flaunt the fact that you, too, have a hatter-- Well then, in self-defence I'll pick with you A bone or two. Perchance you have a motive, deep, ulterior, In donning head-gear borrowed from banditti? You wish to show an intellect superior, (And hide a profile which is not too pretty? Or is it, simply, you prefer to go Incognito? A transmigrated Balaam's self you may be, But still I bar your method of progression; For while I sit, as helpless as a baby, And scale each precipice in steep succession, You scorn the mule-track, and pursue the edge Of ev'ry ledge. How can I scan with rapt enthusiasm These Alpine heights, when balanced _à la_ Blondin, While you survey with bird's-eye view each chasm? I cry _Eyupp! Avanti!_--_you_ respond in Attempts straightway to improvise a "chute" For me, you brute!