[Illustration: OUR COUNTRYMEN ABROAD.--_Mr. Shoddy._ "_I_ always say, Mrs. Sharp, that I never feel really safe from the ubiquitous British snob till I am south of the Danube!"
_Mrs. Sharp_ (_innocently_). "And what do the--a--_South Danubians_ say, Mr. Shoddy?"]
[Illustration: _Waiter._ "Did you ring, Sir?"
_Traveller_ (_as a gentle hint to previous arrival_). "_Another fire_, waiter!"]
[Illustration: _Mr. Smith._ "Oh, I was wondering whether you and your husband would care to accompany our party to Hadrian's Villa to-morrow?"
_Young American Bride._ "Why, yes; we'd just love to go. George and I will be furnishing as soon as we get back to Noo York, and maybe we'd be able to pick up a few notions over at this villa."]
_Pompous Magnate_ (_making speech at public luncheon in provincial town_). "Speaking of travel reminds me how greatly I have admired the scenery round Lake Geneva, and also what pleasant times I have spent in the neighbourhood of Lake Leman."
_Cultured Neighbour_ (_in audible whisper_). "Pardon me, but the two places are synonymous."
_P. M._ (_patronisingly_). "Ah! So _you_ may think, sir--so _you_ may think! But, from my point of view, I consider Lake Geneva to be far the most synonymous of the two."]
[Illustration: "IT'S AN ILL WIND," &c.--"Oh, papa! what _do_ you think? Four out of our twelve boxes are missing."
"Hurrah! By George! that's the best piece of news I've had for a long time."]
[Illustration: AN EPICURE.--"Oh, George, I'm ashamed of you--rubbing your lips like that, after that dear little French girl has given you a kiss!"
"I'm not rubbing it _out_, mammy--I'm rubbing it _in_!"]
_Monday._--Dear old Bluewater--what a good fellow he is!--asks me to join his yacht, the _Sudden Jerk_, for Cowes week. Never been yachting before.
_Tuesday._--Arrive Ryde Pier, correctly (I hope) "got up"; blue serge, large brass anchor buttons, and peaked cap. Fancy Bluewater rather surprised to see how _au fait_ I am at nautical dress. "Ah! my dear fellow, delighted to see you. Come along; the gig is lying alongside the steps. One of the hands" (why "hands"?) "shall look to your traps." We scramble into gig and are rowed out to 50-ton yawl. Climb up side. Bluewater says, "Come below. Take care--two steps down, then turn round and---- Oh! by Jove! what a crack you've caught your head. Never mind, old boy, you'll soon get accustomed to it." Devoutly hope I shall _not_ get accustomed to knocking my head. Arrive at foot of "companion" (why "companion"?) stairs. Bluewater pulls aside curtains and says, "_There_ you are!" Reply, "Oh! yes, there I am. Er--is--do you lie on the shelf--oh! berth, is it!--beg pardon--or underneath it?" He explains. "You'll find it very jolly, you know; you can lie in your bunk, and look right up the companion to the sky above." "Oh! awfully jolly," I say. We repair on deck. Get under weigh to run down to Cowes. Dear old Bluewater very active. Pulls at ropes and things, shouting "leggo-your-spinach-and-broom,"[A] and other unintelligible war-cries. Stagger across deck. Breeze very fresh. "Lee oh!" shouts Bluewater; "mind the broom!"--or it might have been boom--and next moment am knocked flat on my back by enormous pole.