With the arrangements of the _salle à manger_ as worked at the Semi-Grand under the superintendence of a distinguished and invaluable foreigner _garçon en chef_, very little fault can be found. The experiments of the youthful and less-experienced subordinates who are probably there to learn English, are interesting from a certain point of view, which is attained when, under the guardianship of their chief, or one of his trusty lieutenants, you have had everything you require. _Then_ you can sit and watch the recruits at their _garçonic_ exercises. * * * I wonder if the _Generalissimo_ has them out for drill every morning before visitors are up? Are there any colleges, or barracks, for waiters, where, as undergraduates, or recruits, they can learn their business? From what I have seen I should say most probably not. But there ought to be schools and colleges for waiters, with degrees conferred and diplomas given. Switzerland would be the place wherein to start this idea. * * * Were it not for the refreshing breezes, which rival and excel those of Margate, the Cromerites would be burnt to cinders. As it is, they are generally a delicate improvement on the colour of their own lobsters when boiled. "To this complexion must you come at last"--if you stay long enough at Cromer. * * * _A Curiosity at Cromer._--Exactly in front of where I am now seated, enjoying the Cromeric morning breezes on the very edge of the cliff, and at a distance of about twenty-five yards from the Cromer Sands, there rises a remarkable wooden effigy, on the true import of which I positively refuse to be enlightened by any native offering me a mere matter-of-fact explanation. * * * [Illustration: Did Napoleon ever try to land at Cromer, and lose his _celebrated cocked_ hat in the attempt?] The object, which I sketch on the spot, in order that an experienced hand shall give it artistic merit, appears to be the gigantic wooden case "made and provided" for equally gigantic cocked hat, originally worn by a Titanic Admiral, long since laid up in sea-weed, with all the rest of his uniform, in the locker of Mr. Davy Jones, Neptune's wardrobe keeper. This huge object is stuck on a pole, either as marking the last resting-place, there or thereabouts, of colossal Admiral aforesaid, or it has been for ages left here as indicating the fate certain to await the ruthless and recklessly wrecked invader. It may mark the spot where quietly, one dark night, the Great NAPOLEON rehearsed, _all by himself_, the invasion of England; being only too glad to escape in the early dawn, leaving his cocked hat behind him, which, as a Napoleonic relic, was inclosed in a wooden case of three times its size, and here exposed, with the motto in best Cromeric French, addressed to NAPOLEON, should he ever have attempted to repeat his visit:--