_The Hon. Mrs. Snobbington (to fair stranger)._ "English people are so unsociable, and never speak to each other without an introduction. I always make a point of being friendly with people staying at the same hotel. One need never know them afterwards!"] [Illustration: "TIP" NOT GOOD ENOUGH The Delamere-Browns, who have been spending their honeymoon trip in France, have just taken their seats on the steamer, agreeably conscious of smart clothes and general well-being, when to them enters breathlessly, Françoise, the "bonne" from the hotel, holding on high a very dirty comb with most of its teeth missing. _Françoise (dashing forward with her sweetest smile)._ "Tiens! J'arrive juste à point! Voilà un peigne que madame a laissé dans sa chambre!" [_Tableau!_ ] [Illustration: 'ARRY IN 'OLLAND _'Arry._ "I say, Bill, ain't he a rum lookin' cove?"] [Illustration: A BATH AT BOULOGNE Appalling position of Mr. and Mrs. Tompkins, who had a jib horse when the tide was coming in.] [Illustration: "STRANGERS YET" _First Compatriot_ (_in Belgian café_). "I beg your pardon, sirr. Are ye an Irishman?" _Second Compatriot._ "I am!" [_Silence._ _First Compatriot._ "I'd as soon meet a crocodile as an Irishman 'foreign parts. I beg ye'll not address yer conversation to me, sirr!!"] [Illustration] AN IDYLLIC ISLAND When we came to Amsterdam, we determined, Pashley, Shirtliff and I, that we would take the earliest opportunity of seeing Marken. Wonderful place, by all accounts. Little island, only two miles from mainland, full of absolutely unsophisticated inhabitants. Most of them have never left Marken--no idea of the world beyond it! Everybody contented and equal; costumes quaint; manners simple and dignified. Sort of Arcadia, with dash of Utopia. And here we are--actually at Marken, just landed by sailing-boat from Monnickendam. All is peaceful and picturesque. Scattered groups of little black cottages with scarlet roofs, on mounds. Fishermen strolling about in baggy black knickerbockers, woollen stockings, and wooden shoes. Women and girls all dressed alike, in crimson bodice and embroidered skirt; little cap with one long brown curl dangling coquettishly in front of each ear. Small children--miniature replicas of their elders--wander lovingly, hand in hand. A few urchins dart off at our approach, like startled fawns, and disappear amongst the cottages. Otherwise, our arrival attracts no attention. The women go on with their outdoor work, cleaning their brilliant brass and copper, washing and hanging out their bright-hued cotton and linen garments, with no more than an occasional shy side-glance at us from under their tow-coloured fringes. "Perfectly unconscious," as Shirtliff observes, enthusiastically, "of how unique and picturesque they are!" All the more wonderful, because excursion steamers run every day during the season from Amsterdam.