THE BRITISH BATHER

(By a Dipper in Brittany)

[Apropos of a correspondence in the Daily Graphic]

Mrs. Grundy rules the waves,

With Britons for her slaves—

They're fearful to disport themselves,

Unless the sexes sort themselves

And take their bathing, sadly, for French gaiety depraves (!)

'Tis time no more were seen

The out-of-date "machine";

Away with that monstrosity

Of prudish ponderosity—

Why can't we have the bathing tent or else the trim cabine?

I think we should advance

If we took a hint from France,

And mingled (quite decorously)

On beaches that before us lie

All round our coasts—we do abroad whene'er we get the chance!

O'er here in St. Maló

The thing's quite comme il faut;

Why not in higher latitude?

I can't make out the attitude

Of those who make the British dip so "shocking," dull and slow!

Feeding the Pigeons at St. Mark's Square, Venice