Arrive Cowes. Crowd of yachts. Drop anchor for night. Go below, damp face in tiny iron basin; yacht lurches and rolls all the water out over new white shoes. Enter saloon, tripping over some one's kit-bag at the door. Try to save myself by clutching at swing-table, which upsets and empties soup tureen all over my trousers. Retire, change, return. Host and I sit down and proceed to chase fried soles backwards and forwards across treacherous swing-table. "_Now_, my dear fellow isn't this jolly? Isn't this worth all your club dinners?" Reply "Oh, yes," enthusiastically. Privately, should prefer club in London. Weather gets worse. Try to smoke. Don't seem to care for smoking, somehow. Feel depressed, and ask dear old Bluewater to describe a sailor's grave. Tries to cheer me up by saying, "Don't waste the precious moments, my friend, on such sad subjects. You are not born to fill a seaman's grave. There's a class of man not born to be drowned, you know." Then he laughs heartily. Try to smile; fail. Pitching and rocking motion increases. Retire early and lie down on shelf. Fall off twice. Manage to reach perch again. Weather gets worse. Shall never sleep with noise of trampling on deck and waves washing yacht's sides. Shall never---- Sudden misgiving. _Am_ I going to be----? Oh! no, must be passing dizziness. It cannot possibly be.... IT IS!!! Am rowed ashore, bag and baggage, next morning. Dear old Bluewater tries to keep me from going, and says, "What, after all, _is_ sea-sickness?" Dear old Bluewater must be an ass. Confound old Bluewater! [Footnote A: Qy. spinnaker boom.--ED.] * * * * * [Illustration: THE EXCURSION. _Head of Family._ "I reckon some of us'll have to stand, or we shan't all get seats!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CAUSE AND EFFECT _Mrs. Brown._ "I had such a lovely bathe last Thursday, dear." _Niece._ "That was the day of the tidal wave, wasn't it, Auntie?"] * * * * * [Illustration: How Stonehenge might be popularised if the Government bought it. Suggestion gratis.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Full-sized Tripper._ "How does one get into the churchyard, please?" _Simple Little Native._ "Through this 'ere 'ole!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Walking Tourist._ "What's the name of this village, my man?" _Yokel._ "Oi dunno, zur. Oi only bin 'ere a month!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE OLD WORLD AND THE NEW _Fair Yankee_ (_in Egypt_). "I say, uncle, can yew tell me, air there ever any new camels? I guess all I've seen must be second-hand!"] * * * * * AN UNCONGENIAL SPOT FOR TEETOTALERS.--Barmouth. * * * * * A MAN WHO BEATS ABOUT THE BUSH.--An Australian. * * * * * [Illustration: "IN PERIL OF PRECIPITATION"--_Coriolanus_, iii. 3.