a delicious glistening morning, with the blue
sea rolling in softly and languidly, and a fresh
glistening look over the horizon; a steamer
with red chimneys is gliding in past the lighthouse,
too lazy to use its paddles; down on the
beach are the white sentry-boxes, being wheeled
out by an overworked horse, who has to canter
hard from box to box, but summoned by
clamorous bathers, while the British tourist, most
odious and demonstrative in his touring, is walking
home with a wet towel on his shoulder, to
proclaim to all whom it may concern (and is
there any one whom such a thing could concern?)
that he has been bathing.

Of course this creature swarms and spawns,
so to speak, in splendid variety and abundance
on these grounds. Liverpool is but a few hours'
steam away, and, as a matter of course, it sends
all its most unpleasant children to us for fresh
air and a pleasant wash in the sea. Who shall
grudge them these cheap blessings? But why
go to the expense of the theatrical, and
what they think the professional and
appropriate tourist dress, of infinite varieties of mean
hats, bag and strap, &c.? Why should they
march three abreast, looking up to the houses
and shops on each side with a defiant interrogation,
as if to see that they answered to the florid
descriptions put in the guide-books? I see
more of the " low British tourist," that is,
"snob," in this place than in any other, and in
all his odious variety. I meet them on the hills
in parties, invariably vindicating their title to
be genuine British tourists by roaring " Slap
Bang!" (the snobs' National Anthem), or carrying
empty ale-bottles, displaying Messrs. Allsopp's
labels, on walking-sticks on their shoulders.
Altogether a bright place, yet not cheery.
There was an infinite number of donkeys, whose
unhappy backs it is a special delight and pride
on the part of our tourist to overload and strain
with his vulgar person. Second to this,
perhaps, a more fascinating pastime is to walk
along the sands, as close as the sea will let them,
to the ladies who are bathing. This is great
sport in itself, as is also the confusion and
annoyance which these females suffer, and, when
related at breakfast, naturally raises their
character as " fast men."

In a morning walk I see yet more of this
curious species, especially as I pass " Midgely's
Mona Boarding-house," where they swarm over
on the balconies, and look through rusty
telescopes and opera-glasses. A lane runs between
the Mona Boarding-house and a second, which
the owner has taken through the expansion of
his business; but doors open down in the common
lane, and the tourists of both sexes lounge
on the steps, and interchange morning greetings,
and smoke short pipes with the ease of
men at their clubs.

I am glad to see the Irish outside car well
naturalised here, as well as its Welsh sister the
"inside car," which, it may be said, is an
exceedingly comfortable and conversational vehicle.
But the Irish outside is scarcely the same thing
in a foreign country — this is Porthos's remark;
it requires the dashing laissez-aller style of
driving known in its native land. Aramis thinks
there is a good deal in the build, too; they are
tighter, more springy, and drawn together, there
and in the Scotch quarter of Ireland; here
they spread out and sprawl a little, and
become heavy: they lose animation.

Not so bad, either, are the large waggonettes,
which trundle by with much jingling, and which
are labelled "JONES'S CRESCENT Buss" (spelt
like a chaste salute), " FARE TWOPENCE." Yet
to this retreat, more or less innocent, have
penetrated the demons of old rivalry and
competition, for here, not very much behind either, is
"Cox's ORIGINAL CRESCENT Buss." As a
matter of course, the odious and notorious
Three Legs, well buttoned-up in splatterdashes
and decorated with spurs, sprawl and spin in
every direction. " Cox's Original Crescent
Buss," of course, displays them, and would
properly receive no custom if he did not. The
policeman's collar and cuffs, the steamer's
paddle-boxes, the walls of buildings, the tops of
posters, all exhibit this emblem, with a weary
loyalty. Some way it imparts an absurd air of
motion, and on the policeman's collar suggests
an air of scampering pursuit. In the shops,
handkerchiefs are so decorated, and the idea is
further improved with odious men, modelled on
the late Albert Smith's picture of " the Gent,"
who are seen plying along on three legs. But
the true Manx jest and " wut" is clearly the
effigy of the same individual, who appears on
handkerchiefs, note-paper, cards, collars,
everywhere carrying out the same exquisite and most
facetious jest; that is, getting his boots cleaned,
and saying to the astounded shoeblack, when
the third leg is presented, " Stupid! Brush
away! Don't you see I am a Manxman?" Thp
Manxmen are never tired of grinning over this
conceit. The " far-famed Mona's Bouquet,"
which is distilled from the choicest flowers on
the island, is, of course, for the benefit of
strangers; but suspicion is awakened by its
being advertised as " the original far-famed
Mona's Bouquet, distilled from the choicest
flowers," and we soon discover that Smith, the
chemist, has his far-famed bouquet, and Jackson,
the druggist, his, and Jones, the apothecary,
his; but all nervously anxious, in the
interest of the poor tourist wishing to purchase
the sweet scent, to caution the public against
being taken in by interested parties. Some
very ordinary spars and pebbles are picked up
on the shore, which are, of course, made into
bracelets and brooches adorned with silver, the
present of which would have the effect of making
one low spirited; and these are greedily bought
by the visitor in the felt " wide-awake," for the
purpose of putting on the wrist or sticking in
the belt of his charmer.

III. OUR HOTEL.

There are great legends about our hotel—
how it was built by a certain duke of the finest
stone, &c. The " noble banqueting-hall," the