On the whole, from a literary point of view, the hydros come out better than the mere hotels. But of course they have unequalled advantages. With such material as Dowsing Radiant Heat, D'Arsonval High Frequency and Fango Mud Treatment almost any writer could be sensational. What is High Frequency, I wonder? It is clear, at any rate, that it would be madness to have a hydro without it. Well, I have selected my hotel--on purely literary grounds. Or rather I have selected two. One is the place where they have the Famous Whirlpool Baths. I shall go there at once. The manager of the other is a great artist; alone among the collaborators he understands simplicity. His contribution occupies a whole page; but there is practically nothing in it, nothing about cuisine or sanitation, or elegance or comfort. Only, in the middle, he writes quite simply THE MOST PERFECT HOTEL IN THE WORLD. A.P.H. [Footnote 1: "Bradshaw's General Railway and Steam Navigation Guide for Great Britain and Ireland."] * * * * * A ZOOLOGICAL CURIOSITY. "The complaint made was that men came to the district and asked inflated prices for shares, far above the market value, and it was argued that the new exchange would tend to obviate this system of sharks feathering their nests."--_Lancashire Paper_. * * * * * [Illustration: BEHIND THE SCENES IN CINEMA-LAND. "THAT'S FINE. BUT, AS I HAVEN'T GOT ANY FILMS LEFT, I SUPPOSE THERE'S NO USE STAYING HERE."] * * * * * AN INTER-SERVICE MATCH. (_With the British Army in France_.) Frederick entered the Mess with a decided sea-roll, hitched his slacks and berthed himself on the starboard settee. "Cheerio, my hearties," said he breezily. "Everybody on the old lugger still luffing along all serene?" "Why so oppressively nautical?" inquired Percival. "You haven't been on the leave-boat lately." "'Tis true, old messmate. I'm under the influence of my new batman, one 'Enery 'Enson. After a lifetime in the Marines he's now spending his declining days in the Army, and he's terribly infectious. I found myself saying, 'Ay, ay, Sir,' when the C.O. spoke to me." "I think I've noticed your 'Enery," said Percival. "Isn't he about ten feet high by six broad, tattooed all over like a circulating art gallery, and addicted to chewing quids and swabbing out your hut in his bare feet?" "My cabin, you mean. And says he's going ashore when he takes a trip down the village. That's 'Enery." "Incidentally he's a confirmed bath-lifter," interjected Binnie. "Yesterday morning my batman prepared me a tub, and while he was fetching me along your hulking pirate boosted out my sponge and towels and installed your lily-white self in it. You were so busy wallowing in my hot water that you never heard my protests on the door. You really must curb his buccaneering instincts, old Tirps."