FOR A CHANGE
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.
The number of stowaways who secrete themselves in big vessels is becoming a growing evil. A Norwegian barquantine reached Plymouth on Friday with an entire cargo of hides.
A very Revolting Place.—Brazil.
French Tourist, on a visit to London for the first time, makes a note in his pocket-book of the name of the street in which his hotel is situated.
À Berlin.—Although Berlin is "on the Spree," its cheerfulness is considerably discounted by "the Oder" in its vicinity.
