Mr. Punch at the Seaside Part 6

Till comes an unexpected stop; My forehead hits the door, And I, with cataclysmic flop, Lie on thy sandy floor.

Then, dressed in Nature's simplest style, I, blus.h.i.+ng, venture out; And find the sea is still a mile Away, or thereabout.

Blithe little children on the sand Laugh out with childish glee; Their nurses, sitting near at hand, All giggling, stare at me.

Unnerved, unwashed, I rush again Within thy tranquil shade, And wait until the rising main Shall banish child and maid.

Thy doors I dare not open now, Thy windows give no view; 'Tis late; I will not bathe, I vow; I dress myself anew.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THALATTA! THALATTA!"

_General chorus_ (_as the children's excursion nears its destination_).

"Oh, I say! There's the sea! 'Ooray!!"

_Small boy._ "I'll be in fust!"]

HOW TO ENJOY A HOLIDAY

_A Social Contrast_

[Ill.u.s.tration: ILE OF MAN]

I.--THE WRONG WAY

_Pater._ Here at last! A nice reward for a long and tedious journey!

_Mater._ Well, you were always complaining in town.

_Pater._ Broken chairs, rickety table, and a hideous wall-paper!

_Mater._ Well, I didn't buy the chairs, make the table, or choose the wall-paper. Discontent is your strong point.

_Pater._ And is likely to remain so. Really, that German band is unbearable!

_Mater._ My dear, you have no ear for music. Why, you don't even care for my songs! You used to say you liked them once.

_Pater._ So I did--thirty years ago!

_Mater._ Before our marriage! And I have survived thirty years!

_Pater._ Eh? What do you mean by that, madam?

_Mater._ Anything you please. But come--dinner's ready.

_Pater._ Dinner! The usual thing, I suppose--underdone fish and overdone meat!

_Mater._ Well, I see that you are determined to make the best of everything, my dear!

_Pater._ I am glad you think so, my darling!

[_And so they sit down to dinner._

II.--THE RIGHT WAY.

_Pater._ Here at last! What a charming spot! A fitting sequel to a very pleasant journey!

_Mater._ And yet you are very fond of town!

_Pater._ This room reminds me of my own cozy study. Venerable chairs, a strange old table, and a quaintly-designed wall-paper.

_Mater._ Well, I think if I had had to furnish the house, I should have chosen the same things myself. But had they been ever so ugly, I feel sure that you would have liked them. You know, sir, that content is your strong point.

_Pater._ I am sure that I shall find no opportunity of getting any merit (after the fas.h.i.+on of _Mark Tapley_) for being contented in this pleasant spot. What a capital German band!

_Mater._ I don't believe that you understand anything about music, sir.

Why, you even pretend that you like my old songs!

_Pater._ And so I do. Every day I live I like them better and better.

And yet I heard them for the first time thirty years ago!

_Mater._ When we were married! And so I have survived thirty years!

_Pater._ Eh? What do you mean by that, madam?

_Mater._ That I am a living proof that kindness never kills. How happy we have been! But come--dinner's ready.

_Pater._ Dinner! The usual thing, I suppose--a nice piece of fish and a juicy joint. Now, that's just what I like. So much better than our pretentious London dinners! Not that a London dinner is not very good in its proper place.

_Mater._ Well, I see that you are determined to make the best of everything, my dear.

_Pater._ I am glad you think so, my darling!

[_And so they sit down to dinner._

[Ill.u.s.tration: A GOAT AND TWO KIDS]

[Ill.u.s.tration: AWFUL SCENE ON THE CHAIN PIER, BRIGHTON