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EBOOK PUNCH ***


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Proofreading Team.


PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 99.

September 13, 1890.


OUT FOR A HOLIDAY.
(_BY OUR IMPARTIAL AND NOT-TO-BE-BIASSED CRITIC._)
I had often been told that St. Margaret's Bay, between Deal and Dover,
was lovely beyond compare. Seen from the Channel, I had heard it
described as "magnificent," and evidence of its charms nearer at hand,
was adduced in the fact that Mr. ALMA TADEMA, R.A., had made it his
headquarters during a portion of the recent summer.
[Illustration]
So I determined to visit it. I had to take a ticket to Martin's Mill,
a desolate spot, containing a railway station, a railway hotel, and
(strange to say) a mill. I was told by an obliging official on my
arrival, that St. Margaret's Bay was a mile and a half distant--"to
the village." And a mile and a half--a very good mile and a half--it
was! Up hill, down dale, along the dustiest of dusty roads, bordered
by telegraph poles that suggested an endless lane without a turning.
On climbing to the summit of each hill another long stretch of road
presented itself. At length the village was reached, and I looked
about me for the sea. A cheerful young person who was flirting with a
middle-aged cyclist seemed surprised when I asked after it. "Oh, the
sea!" she exclaimed, in a tone insinuating that the ocean was at a
decided discount in her part of the world--"oh, you will find _that_
a mile further on.
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