"Bravo!" cried _Mr. Punch_, as the singer finished--"I quite agree with you. But now let me see what else is to be seen on the sands." It was a gay scene--all the gayer for the delightful weather. _Mr. Punch_, knowing that his wishes must immediately be gratified, had taken care to desire _beau temps en permanence_. "This is really very charming," murmured the Sage; "and I am not surprised that one of the brightest of my Artists chose it for his holiday resting-place last Summer--and, as I live, there he is! Halloa! Hi! Have you forgotten your old friend?" "Forgotten you, my dear _Mr. Punch!_" said a gentleman of extreme elegance, approaching the Sage. "How could you think of such a thing? Why, you have had proofs of my goodwill every week for the last quarter of a century." "So I have," returned _Mr. Punch_, heartily, "and have you anything from your portfolio you can show me?" "What do you think of this?" And he showed him two Gauls, _en costume de bain_. "What are these?" asked the Sage. "I will tell you," replied the melancholy-looking tourist, approaching with his concertina. Then, in a soft voice, he sang the following lines, which he called SWEETNESS AND LIGHT Amid the throng that crowds the shore I casually met them, And, though I never see them more, I never shall forget them! Dear Sons of Gaul! The one so sleek And plump, with sea-foam dripping: The other! Ah! so limp and weak, Scarce equal to a dipping. But, as they stand together there, Half conscious none can match them, A sight for the admiring fair!-- I seek a phrase to catch them. And, as one lights his cigarette, Ho! _presto!_ In completeness I feel at last that I have met With living "Light and Sweetness"! "Just so," observed _Mr. Punch_. "But I must be off." "Going to Paris by the train _de luxe!_ Ah, how different it used to be when our fathers were boys together. Do you remember the old-fashioned diligence? Some day we may travel by train across the sea." "Well, I have a still easier mode of travelling. I can beat diligence and locomotive with a wish. I want to be in Paris!" In a moment, the Sage found himself seated under the Tour Eiffel amidst the ruins of the Exhibition. The confusion was indescribable. "Dear me, I think I've had about enough of this!" said _Mr. Punch_. "I fancy I should like to be in Switzerland." _Hey presto!_ and the Sage was in the home of the picturesque--in the land of _table d'hôtes_ of the first order, and of hotel prices of nearly the same altitude as the mountains. "This is very perfect," observed the Sage to his faithful attendant. TOBY growled. "There is nothing needed to complete my happiness." "Except me--'scuse me--except me." "You! And who may you be?" "Not know _me, Mr. Punch?_ Why, that is a good one!"