"But what objectionable children!" said Suzanne. "I shouldn't at all care for Barbara to mix with them; and jelly-fish sting. Besides, that boat doesn't look at all safe, and the man's a bounder in every sense of the word. What's this other place?" I was disappointed, and considered Suzanne's criticism superficial in the extreme. The next pictures showed an emerald sea and pink shore, two piers, a flock of aeroplanes, and a structure that combined the characteristic features of the Eiffel Tower and the Albert Memorial. One suspected a herd of minstrels in the distance, but here again the beach was remarkably and invitingly uncongested. A solitary barefooted maiden communing with a crustacean rather caught my fancy, but it didn't need the angle of Suzanne's nose to tell me that "Puddlesey for Pleasure" was a wash-out; frankly, it was too good to believe that all the holiday-makers but one were content to patronise either the piers or the aeroplanes or the hidden attractions of the architectural outrage, and to leave the beach so desirably vacant. We passed over in eloquent silence a couple of lurid _affiches_ which declared that "Exhampton Is So Exhilarating" (a middle-aged person in side-whiskers and a purple bathing-suit attempting to drown his unfortunate wife), and that "Rooksea Will Restore the Roses" (a fragile young woman in a deck-chair being nourished out of a box of chocolates by a sentimental ass whose attire proclaimed him a member of the local concert party). The next scene to engage our attention was much more simple in its appeal and striking in its effect. The sea was neither so blatantly blue nor so vividly green as the other seas had been; the beach was but normally sandy-hued, and there was a delicious little fellow, clad in nothing much except seaweed, who was splashing himself with great seriousness in the middle of a shining pool. Again that amazing absence of the seaside crowd; but somehow or other this picture seemed to ring true. There were no piers or other "attractions," and to souls that shunned such delights the _aura_ of the place was extremely sympathetic, A single glance sufficed to determine us both. "Quick!" said Suzanne with a catch in her breath. "What's the place called?" Alas! where the legend should have appeared was an ugly gap. The picture had been badly torn in its most vital part, and nothing was there to reveal the identity of that magic spot where that delightfully real and really delightful baby boy had been caught by the camera of the publicity agent. Hurriedly we sought the Inquiry Bureau, but no answer could be obtained to Suzanne's incoherent questionings. We have since written to various agencies, but in vain; nor, strangely enough, in spite of much searching, have we ever seen the poster exhibited anywhere else.