_Visitor_ (_gazing at a guinea-fowl's egg_). "Waiter! Can you tell me what egg this is?"
_Waiter._ "Oh, sir, it's a Guernsey egg. They sometimes lays them like that. It's not done in the boiling!"]
[Illustration: CORRECTED.--_Lady Tourist_ (_doing the cathedrals of Scotland_). "This is _Gothic_, isn't it, John?"
_Juvenile Vendor of "Guides"_ (_severely_). "No, mem, _this is Presbyterian_."]
At HOMBURG-V.-D.-H.--_Colonel Twister_ (_in the hotel smoking-room_). Yes! I once played a game of pool at Senecarabad, holding the cue in my teeth, and captured all the loot!
_Captain Longbow._ Pooh! That's nothing! About a month ago I matched myself at shell-out against Fred Fandango, and clutching the cue between my toes, walked in lying on my back!
_Colonel Twister_ (_taken unawares_). But how the deuce did you manage to see the table?
_Captain Longbow._ See the table? Why, had the cloth lighted with Röntgen rays, of course! Saw through the slate!
[_The Colonel abruptly says "Good Night" to the company, and leaves for Schlangenbad next morning._
FORCE OF HABIT.--Recently two bankers met abroad. They at once began to compare notes.
NEW NAME FOR SEA-SICKNESS.--_Mal de Little Mary._
MRS. RAMSBOTHAM wants to know whether the inhabitants of the Fiji Islands are called the Fijits.
SCENE--_Highland Gathering in the Antipodes._
"Well, my little man, so you're Scotch, eh?"
"Nae, nae, a'am nae Scotch, but ma pairents is."]
[Illustration: A SENSATIONAL DRAMA IN THREE ACTS AND FIVE TABLEAUX.
(_Showing how he got in for it and how he came out of it rather the worse for "wear"._)
MR. JOGGLES HAVING CAREFULLY SELECTED A RETIRED SPOT DEPOSITED HIS CLOTHES IN A CAVE SEES A LITTLE WAY BELOW HIM A SPARKLING POOL FED BY A TORRENT FROM ABOVE--A NATURAL SHOWER BATH, INTO WHICH HE WILL JOYFULLY DESCEND.
THIS IS WHAT HE EXPECTED BEFORE TAKING A DIP.
BUT A PICNIC PARTY HAVING TERMINATED THEIR LUNCHEON, UNWITTINGLY REARRANGE MATTERS.
MR. JOGGLES IS COMPELLED TO REMAIN OVER HIS USUAL TIME IN HIS BATH.
IN THE MEANTIME THE GOATS HAVE BEEN BUSY WITH HIS CLOTHES.]
Fagged and jaded, Daphne mine, For our annual change I pine. Once again the problem's here, Whither we shall go this year. Let who will seek lake or moor, "_Bad_" or hydro, spa or "_kur_," Switzerland and Germany Have no charms for you and me. There while restless tourists haste, "Good old Margate" suits our taste. On its old familiar ground We will make the usual round. Meet Smith, Robinson and Brown, Whom we daily see in town; Hear the niggers or the bands On the pier, the fort, the sands; Revel in each well-known joy, Then, when these enchantments cloy, And for change again we yearn, Why, then, Daphne, we'll return.