_Toper Minor._ "I know, ol' f'ler. You mean Philipoppoppo--poppo----" _Toper Major._ "Thatsh it--shame place. Have 'nother bo'l!" [_They drink._ ] * * * * * NOT SO PRETTY IN ENGLISH (_Three Friends meet at Monte Carlo._) _First Friend._ No, I'm not staying here. Just run over from Canes. _Second F._ And I from Fat. _Third F._ And I'm with my people at Chin. [We presume the travellers referred to Cannes, Grasse, and Menton.--ED.] * * * * * A WHITSUN HOLIDAY. (_A Page from a Modern Diary._) _Monday._--Up with the lark. Breakfast not ready. Spent my spare time in closing the boxes. Got the family into the train with difficulty. Devoted the day to travelling. Reached our destination tired out. Glad to get to bed. _Tuesday._--Up with the lark. Did the sights. Had no time to look at anything, as I had to attend to the tickets. Saw all the museums. My party coming out when I had got the catalogues. So managed our visits that there was no opportunity of discussing meals. Got back in time for _table d'hôte_, but preferred sleep to food. Went to bed. _Wednesday._--Up with the lark. Off again travelling. On the road all day. Having to fit in the corresponding trains, had no leisure for meals. Arrived at our new resting-place late at night. So off as quickly as possible to bed. _Thursday._--Up with the lark. Spent the morning in sight-seeing under the customary conditions. Waited upon the family. Looked after the catalogues and umbrellas. Food again at a discount. Dispensed with dinner. Glad to get to bed. _Friday._--Up with the lark. Time to return. Back again by a train. No food. No rest. Halfway home. Arrived in time to see the lights being put out. Off to bed. _Saturday._--Up with the lark. Continued my journey post-haste. Wrote up my diary. Find that I have got over several hundreds of miles; but for the life of me cannot remember anything that I have seen. Don't recollect any square meal. Back again, tired, and only pleased to be in bed. _Sunday._--Sleeping. _Monday._--Up with the lark. Recovered from my week's "rest," and glad to get back again to work. * * * * * BY A SEA-SICK PASSENGER _MARE! Mare_! Most contrary, Why do you tumble so? While you heave and swell One can't feel well, And--I think I'll go below! * * * * * MOTTO FOR AMERICAN MILLIONAIRESSES.-- "Marry, come up!" * * * * * [Illustration: _Scientific and Nervous Visitor at Country Hotel._ "I suppose there's no 'ptomaine' in this pie?" _Waiter_ (_equal to the occasion_). "No, sir. We never puts that in unless specially ordered!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DARTMOOR WAY.--_Tourist_ (_in background_). "I say! Percy! We'd better be going now--unless you can see anything striking from where you are!"]