[Illustration: OUR BORES, NATIVE AND FOREIGN "Ach! I schbeague Enklish not vell, not vell at all! Pot, py a leadle bractice, I imbrove ver kvick! Vait till I haf talk to you for a gopple of hours, and you shall see!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A SCENE AT THE "LUCULLUS" _Mrs. Blunderby._ "Now, my dear Monty, let me order the luncheon ar-la-fraingsy. Gassong! I wish to begin--as we always do in Paris, my dears--with some _chef-d'oeuvres_--you understand--some _chef-d'oeuvres_." [_Emile, the waiter, is in despair. It occurs to him, however, presently that the lady probably meant "Hors d'oeuvres," and acts accordingly._ ] * * * * * TO A WELSH LADY (_Written at Clovelly_) The reason why I leave unsung Your praises in the Cymric tongue You know, sweet Nelly; You recollect your poet's crime-- How, when he tried to sing "the time," He made "the place" and "loved one" rhyme, You and Dolgelly! But now, although a shocking dunce, I've learnt, in part, the Welsh pronunc- iation deathly. I dream of you in this sweet spot, And for your sake I call it what Its own inhabitants do not-- That is "Clovethly"! * * * * * AT WHITBY.--_Visitor_ (_to Ancient Mariner, who has been relating his experiences to crowd of admirers_). Then do you mean to tell us that you actually reached the North Pole? _Ancient Mariner._ No, sir; that would be a perwersion of the truth. But I seed it a-stickin' up among the ice just as plain as you can this spar, which I plants in the sand. It makes me thirsty to think of that marvellous sight, we being as it were parched wi' cold. [_A. M.'s distress promptly relieved by audience._ * * * * * THE WALKING ENGLISHWOMAN ON THE ALPS [Illustration] You who look at home so charming-- Angel, goddess, nothing less-- Do you know you're quite alarming In that dress? Such a garb should be forbidden; Where's the grace an artist loves? Think of dainty fingers hidden In those gloves! Gloves! A housemaid would not wear them, Shapeless, brown and rough as sacks, Thick! And yet you often tear them With that axe! Worst of all, unblacked, unshiny-- Greet them with derisive hoots-- Clumsy, huge! For feet so tiny! Oh, those boots! * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--_Verandah of Swiss Hotel_ _Brown_ (_finishing very lengthy account of Alpine adventure_). "And then, Miss Jones, then, just as dawn was breaking, I heard the voices of the guides above me, and I knew that I was saved--actually saved! My feelings, as I realised this, may be more easily imagined than described!" _Miss Jones_ (_fervently_). "Thank Heaven!" [_And Brown fondly imagined she was alluding to his escape_. ] * * * * * [Illustration: CAUTIOUS