AT CROMER.
What middle-aged frequenter of the Old Ship, Brighton, does not recall the bland personality of Arthur Bacon, part proprietor and principal representative of the landlordism of the excellent ancient hostelrie:—
O don't you remember A. Bacon Ben Bolt?
So smiling, so shiney, and brown?
And charged us an extra half-crown.
The gammon of Bacon was admirable; and his strict attention to the duties of servants towards visitors to the hotel was "aside of Bacon" not to be forgotten. A. B. was an ideal landlord, ever ready at his door to welcome the coming and speed the parting guest.
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"The Grand" at Cromer is not an enormous hotel: it is a Semi-Grand. The example of Bacon aforesaid could be therefore easily imitated. Warned of our arrival by letter, rooms secured, train punctual (from St. Pancras to Cromer) to within ten minutes, we drove up to the door of the Semi-Grand in our one-horse fly. Not a soul about. Surely the hotel is open? Yes, the driver knew that much, "because he had taken some people away from there in the morning." These might have been the last roses of summer, the last visitors at the hotel for the season! We waited; no signs of life. "Should he (the driver) ring?" Certainly: a most happy thought. He descendeth; he ringeth. We wait. Then the sound as of a somebody coming. "A Boots in sight appears. We hail him with three cheers"—at least, we ask "if our rooms are ready," and the Boots is of opinion that they are; whereupon another Boots appears, and the pair of Boots lug our luggage into the hall, where we find an amiable lady with keys in her hand who invites us to inspect certain apartments. Our answer is an adaptation of Hamlet's command to the Ghost, "Lead on, we follow."
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