Part 4
_Miss Priscilla._ "Yes; it's a beautiful view. But tourists are in the habit of bathing on the opposite shore, and that's rather a drawback."
_Fair Visitor._ "Dear me! but at such a distance as that--surely----"
_Miss Priscilla._ "Ah, but with a _telescope_, you know!"]
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THE SEASIDE PHOTOGRAPHER
I do not mean the Kodak fiend, Who takes snap-shots of ladies dipping, And gloats o'er sundry views he's gleaned Of amatory couples "tripping."
No, not these playful amateurs I sing of, but the serious artist, Who spreads upon the beach his lures, What time the season's at its smartest.
His tongue is glib, his terms are cheap, For ninepence while you wait he'll take you; Posterity shall, marv'lling, keep The "tin-type" masterpiece he'll make you.
What though his camera be antique, His dark-room just a nose-bag humble, What if his tripod legs are weak, And threaten constantly to tumble.
No swain nor maiden can withstand His invitation arch, insidious, To pose _al fresco_ on the strand-- His _clientele_ are not fastidious.
"You are so lovely", says the wretch, "Your picture will be quite entrancing!" And to the lady in the sketch I overheard him thus romancing.
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ANNALS OF A WATERING-PLACE THAT HAS "SEEN ITS DAY"
The weather which, in Mr. Dunstable's varied experience of five-and-twenty years, he assures me, has never been so bad, having at length afforded some indications of "breaking", I make the acquaintance, through Mrs. Cobbler, of Mr. Wisterwhistle, proprietor of the one bath-chair available for the invalid of Torsington-on-Sea, who, like myself, stands in need of the salubrious air of that health-giving resort, but who is ordered by his medical adviser to secure it with the least possible expenditure of physical strength.
Both Mr. Wisterwhistle and his chair are peculiar in their respective ways, and each has a decided history. Mr. Wisterwhistle, growing confidential over his antecedents, says, "You see, sir, I wasn't brought up to the bath-chair business, so to speak, for I began in the Royal Navy, under His Majesty King William the Fourth. Then I took to the coastguard business, and having put by a matter of thirty pound odd, and hearing 'she' was in the market,"--Mr. Wisterwhistle always referred to his bath-chair as 'she,' evidently regarding it from the nautical stand-point as of the feminine gender,--"and knowing, saving your presence, sir, that old Bloxer, of whom I bought her, had such a good crop of cripples the last season or two, that he often touched two-and-forty shillings a week with 'em, I dropped Her Majesty's service, and took to this 'ere. But, Lor, sir, the business ain't wot it wos. Things is changed woeful at Torsington since I took her up. Then from 9 o'clock, as you might say, to 6 P.M., every hour was took up; and, mind you, by real downright 'aristocracy,'--real live noblemen, with gout on 'em, as thought nothink of a two hours' stretch, and didn't 'aggle, savin' your presence, over a extra sixpence for the job either way. But, bless you, wot's it come to now? Why, she might as well lay up in a dry dock arf the week, for wot's come of the downright genuine invalid, savin' your presence, blow'd if I knows. One can see, of course, sir, in arf a jiffy, as you is touched in the legs with the rheumatics, or summat like it; but besides you and a old gent on crutches from Portland Buildings, there ain't no real invalid public 'ere at all, and one can't expect to make a livin' out of you two; for if you mean to do the thing ever so 'ansome, it ain't reasonable to expect you and the old gent I was a referring to, to stand seven hours a day goin' up and down the Esplanade between you, and you see even that at a bob an hour ain't no great shakes when you come to pay for 'ousing her and keepin' her lookin' spic and span, with all her brass knobs a shining and her leather apron fresh polished with patent carriage blackin': and Lor, sir, you'd not b'lieve me if I was to tell you what a deal of show some parties expects for their one bob an hour. Why, it was only the other day that Lady Glumpley (a old party with a front of black curls and yaller bows in her bonnet, as I dare say you've noticed me a haulin' up and down the Parade when the band's a playin'), says to me, says she, 'It ain't so much the easygoin' of your chair, Mr. Wisterwhistle, as makes me patronise it, as its general genteel appearance. For there's many a chair at Brighton that can't hold a candle to it!'" But at this point he was interrupted by the appearance of a dense crowd that half filled the street, and drew up in silent expectation opposite my front door. Dear me, I had quite forgotten I had sent for him. But the boy who cleans the boots and knives has returned, and brought with him _the One Policeman_!
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QUERY AT SOME FASHIONABLE SEASIDE RESORT.--Do the unpleasant odours noticeable at certain times arise from the fact of the tide being high? If so, is the tide sometimes higher than usual, as the--ahem!--odours certainly are?
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SEASIDE DRAMA.--_Mrs. de Tomkyns_ (_sotto voce, to Mr. de T._). "Ludovic, dear, there's Algernon playing with a strange child! _Do_ prevent it!"
_Mr. de T._ (_ditto, to Mrs. de T._). "How on earth am I to prevent it, my love?"
_Mrs. de T._ "Tell its parents Algernon is just recovering from scarlet fever, or something!"
_Mr. de T._ "But it isn't true!"
_Mrs. de T._ "Oh, never mind! Tell them, all the same!"
_Mr. de T._ (_aloud_). "Ahem! Sir, you'd better not let your little girl play with my little boy. He's only just recovering from--er--_Scarlet Fever_!"
_Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins_ (_together_). "It's all right, sir!--_so's our little gal!_"
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BY THE SEASIDE
(_A Gasp and a Growl from Paterfamilias Fogey_)
In for it here, Six weeks or more, Once every year (Yah, what a bore!) Daughters and wife Force me to bide Mad to "see life" By the seaside!
Go out of town What if we do? Hither comes down All the world too; Vanity Fair, Fashion and Pride, Seeking fresh air By the seaside.
Drest up all hands-- Raiment how dear!-- Down on the sands, Out on the Pier, Pace to and fro, See, as at Ryde, Off how they show By the seaside!
Fops and fine girls, Swarm, brisk as bees; Ribbons and curls Float on the breeze; Females and males Eye and are eyed; Ogling prevails By the seaside!
Daughters may see Some fun in that. Wife, how can she, Grown old and fat? Scene I survey But to deride, Idle display By the seaside.
Views within reach, Picturesque scenes, Rocks on the beach, Bathing machines, Shingle and pools, Left by the tide, Youth, far from schools, By the seaside.
Artists may sketch, Draw and design, Pencil, or etch; Not in my line. Money, no end, Whilst I am tied Here, I must spend, By the seaside!
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SEASIDE VIEWS
_Tom Jones_ (_in love_). The most heavenly place I ever was in. The sun is warmer, the sky bluer, the sea the calmest I ever knew. Joy sparkles on every pebble; Art spreads its welcome arms through every spray of seaweed. True happiness encircles me on every breeze, and Beauty is by my side.
_Old Jones._ Beastly slow. All sea and sky, and ugly round stones. You can't bask in the sun because there is none--it's always raining--and because the flints worry your back. Confound the children, scraping up the wet sand and smelling seaweeds! It must be time for them to go to bed or to lessons or something. Wherever you sit there is sure to be a draught, and such heaps of old women you can't put your legs up on the seat. Hang it all, there isn't a young girl in the place, let alone pretty ones.
_Young Brown_ (_waiting for a Commission_). Awfully dull. Quite too excessively detestable. Not a fellow to talk to, you know, who knows anything about the Leger, or draw-poker, or modern education, you know. Can't get introduced to Lady Tom Peeper. Nobody to do it. Wish my moustache would curl. Pull it all day, you know, but it won't come. Lady Tom smiled, on the Parade to-day. Got very red, but I shall smile too to-morrow. A man must do something in this dreadful place.
_Major Brown_ (_Heavies_). Not half bad kind of diggings. Quite in clover. Found Lydia here--I mean Lady Tom Peeper. Horribly satirical woman, though. Keeps one up to the mark. I shall have to read up to keep pace with her. I shouldn't like to be chaffed by her. Better friend than enemy. Poor Tom Peeper! he must have a bad time of it! Can't say "Bo" to a gosling. And she knows it. That's why he never comes down here. Coast clear. Fancy she's rather sweet on me. By Jove! we had a forty-mile-an-hour-express flirtation before her marriage! Must take care what I'm about now. Mustn't have a collision with Tom--good old man, after all, if he is a fool. Take this note round, Charles, to the same place.
_Mrs. Robinson_ (_Materfamilias_). Scarcely room to swing a cot, for baby. Thank goodness, all the children are on the beach. I hope Mary Ann won't let out to the other nurses that Totty had the scarlet fever. He's quite well now, poor little man, and no one will be any the worse for it. Horrid! of course. No, it is not a Colorado beetle, Robinson. They infest the curtains; we did not bring them with us in our trunks. Do go out and buy some insect-powder, instead of looking stupid behind that nasty cigar. Oh, and get some soap and some tooth-powder, and order baby's tonic, and Jane's iron--mind, sesqui-sulphate of iron (I suppose I must find the prescription), and a box of--what's that stuff for sore throats? And do hire a perambulator with a hood. And we have no dessert for to-morrow--you know, or you ought to know, it's Sunday. Some fruit, and what you like. Oh! and don't forget some biscuits for the dog. What has become of Tiny? Tiny! Tiny! I know he did not go with the children. I dare say he has eaten something horrid, and is dying under a chair. Dear! dear! who would be mother of a family with such a careless, thoughtless, quite too utterly selfish husband as you are. Of course you never remembered to-day was my birthday. I ought never to have been born. A bracelet or a pair of ear-rings--or, by the way, I saw a lovely chatelaine on the Parade. You might find enough to give me one pleasure since our wedding.
_Robinson_ (_Paterfamilias_). I like the seaside, I do. When will it be over?
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THE BETTER THE DAY, THE BETTER THE TALK!
SCENE--_Any fashionable Watering-place where "Church Parade" is a recognised institution._
TIME--_Sunday_, 1 P.M. _Enter_ Brown _and_ Mrs. Brown, _who take chairs_.
_Mrs. Brown._ Good gracious! Look another way! Those odious people, the Stiggingses, are coming towards us!
_Brown._ Why odious? I think the girls rather nice.
_Mrs. B._ (_contemptuously_). Oh, _you_ would, because men are so easily taken in! Nice, indeed! Why, here's Major Buttons.
_B._ (_moving his head sharply to the right_). Don't see him! Can't stand the fellow! I always avoid him at the Club!
_Mrs. B._ Why? Soldiers are always such pleasant men.
_B._ (_contemptuously_). Buttons a soldier! Years ago he was a Lieutenant in a marching regiment, and now holds honorary rank in the Volunteers! Soldier, indeed! Bless me! here's Mrs. Fitz-Flummery--mind you don't cut her.
_Mrs. B._ Yes, I shall; the woman is unsupportable. Did you ever see _such_ a dress. And she has changed the colour of her hair--again!
_B._ Whether she has or hasn't, she looks particularly pleasing.
_Mrs. B._ (_drily_). You were always a little eccentric in your taste! Why, surely there must be Mr. Pennyfather Robson. How smart he looks! Where _can_ he have come from?
_B._ The Bankruptcy Court! (_Drily._) You were never particularly famous for discrimination. As I live, the Plantagenet Smiths!
[_He bows with effusion._
_Mrs. B._ And the Stuart Joneses. (_She kisses her hand gushingly_). By the way, dear, didn't you say that the Plantagenet Smiths were suspected of murdering their uncle before they inherited his property?
_B._ So it is reported, darling. And didn't you tell me, my own, that the parents of Mr. Stuart Jones were convicts before they became millionaires?
_Mrs. B._ So I have heard, loved one. (_Starting up._) Come, Charley, we must be off at once! The Goldharts! If they catch us, _she_ is sure to ask me to visit some of her sick poor!
_B._ And _he_ to beg me to subscribe to an orphanage or a hospital! Here, take your prayer-book, or people won't know that we have come from church!
[_Exeunt hurriedly._
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AT SCARBOROUGH.--_Miss Araminta Dove._ Why do they call this the Spa?
_Mr. Rhino-Ceros._ Oh! I believe the place was once devoted to boxing exhibitions.
[_Miss A.D. as wise as ever._
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THE DONKEY-BOYS OF ENGLAND
(_A Song for the Seaside_)
The Donkey-Boys of England, how merrily they fly, With pleasant chaff upon the tongue and cunning in the eye. And oh! the donkeys in a mass how patiently they stand, High on the heath of Hampstead, or down on Ramsgate's sand.
The Donkey-Boys of England, how sternly they reprove The brute that won't "come over", with an impressive shove; And oh! the eel-like animals, how gracefully they swerve From side to side, but won't advance to spoil true beauty's curve.
The Donkey-Boys of England, how manfully they fight, When a probable donkestrian comes suddenly in sight; From nurse's arms the babies are clutch'd with fury wild, And on a donkey carried off the mother sees her child.
The Donkey-Boys of England, how sternly they defy The pleadings of a parent's shriek, the infant's piercing cry; As a four-year-old MAZEPPA is hurried from the spot, Exposed to all the tortures of a donkey's fitful trot.
The Donkey-Boys of England, how lustily they scream, When they strive to keep together their donkeys in a team; And the riders who are anxious to be class'd among genteels, Have a crowd of ragged Donkey-boys "hallooing" at their heels.
The Donkey-Boys of England, how well they comprehend The animal to whom they act as master, guide, and friend; The understanding that exists between them who'll dispute-- Or that the larger share of it falls sometimes to the brute?
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SEASIDE ACQUAINTANCES (SCENE--The Shady Side of Pall Mall).--_Snob._ My Lord, you seem to forget me. Don't you recollect our meeting this summer at Harrogate?
_Swell._ My dear fellow, I do not forget it in the least. I recollect vividly we swore eternal friendship at Harrogate, and should it be my fate to meet you at Harrogate next year, I shall only be too happy to swear it again.
[_Lifts his chapeau, and leaves Snob in a state of the most speechless amazement._
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REASONS FOR GOING TO BRIGHTON
(_By the Cynic who stays in London_)
Because "everybody" is there, and it is consequently so pleasant to see St. John's Wood, Bayswater, and even Belgravia, so well represented on the Esplanade.
Because the shops in the King's Road are _nearly_ as good as those to be found in Regent Street.
Because the sea does not _always_ look like the Thames at Greenwich in a fog.
Because some of the perambulating bands play very nearly in tune.
Because the Drive from the Aquarium to the New Pier is quite a mile in length, and only grows monotonous after the tenth turn.
Because watching fish confined in tanks is such rollicking fun.
Because the Hebrews are so numerously represented on the Green.
Because the Clubs are so inexpensive and select.
Because the management of the Grand is so very admirable.
Because it is so pleasant to follow the Harriers on a hired hack in company with other hired hacks.
Because the half-deserted Skating Rinks are so very amusing.
Because it is so nice to hear second-rate scandal about third-rate people.
Because the place is not always being visited by the scarlet fever.
Because it is so cheerful to see the poor invalids taking their morning airing in their bath-chairs.
Because the streets are paraded by so many young gentlemen from the City.
Because the Brighton belles look so ladylike in their quiet Ulsters and unpretending hats.
Because the suburbs are so very cheerful in the winter, particularly when it snows or rains.
Because on every holiday the Railway Company brings down such a very nice assortment of excursionists to fill the streets.
Because Brighton in November is so very like Margate in July.
Because, if you did not visit Brighton, you might so very easily go farther and fare worse.
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