WALTON ON THE NAZE
11.30 a.m.—Bellowing black-faced ballad-bawlers, with their banjoes and their bones.
Such is our daily programme of music until noon, and such, with sundry variations, it continues until midnight. Small wonder that I have so little relish for my meals, and that, in spite of the sea air, I can hardly sleep a wink. I shall return to Town to-morrow, for surely all the street tormentors must be out of it, judging by the numbers that now plague the sad seaside.
Miserrimus.
