_À Monsieur Punch._
DEAR MISTER,--After to have assisted at the Congress of Geographs at
London I come of to make a little _voyage d'agrément_--a voyage of
agreement--to the Island of Wight. I am gone to render visit to one of
my english friends who inhabits Sandown. I go not to tell you his name,
that would be to outrage the privacy of your "Home, sweet home." I
shall call him "SMITH." _Ah, le brave garçon?_--the brave boy! Eh well,
this good SMITH he invites me at him--_chez lui_, how say you?--and
I part from London by a beautiful morning of August, and I arrive to
Portsmout. See there the Island of Wight in face! I traverse the sea
in packet-boat, I arrive to Ride, and, in fine, to Sandown. _Tiens_,
see there the brave SMITH on the quay of the station! I would wish to
embrace him. But no! We are in England. I go to give him a shake-hands.
_Voilà tout._ And he conducts me to his house, and I see there Madame,
who is charming, and his childs. Ah, the dear little childs. But I
speak not of them, because all that is the "Home, sweet home," and, as
one says in english, the castle of the Englishman is in his house.
Sandown is a little town, enough coquette, very well placed at the
border of the sea. In effect, there is a _plage_, a _promenade_, a
_jetée_. It is not precisely the _plage_ of Trouville, the _promenade_
of Ostende; but it is enough agreeable. Only, at place of the pretty
little cabins, the tents, so charming, so coquette, there is some
drolls of things, some boxes on wheels, which one calls "bathings
machines." Oh, _la, la!_ I mock myself of them. And of more! The
ladys and the gentlemans can not to bathe themselves together. They
are there, all near the one of the other, but not together. _Ah
çà, c'est épatant!_ Me I march all gaily in the water towards the
ladys; I am in my costume of bath, all that there is of most as he
must--_de plus comme il faut_, how say you? When a man in a little boat
agitates the arms, and cries himself, "Hi there!" that is to say, "_Hé
là-bas!_"--and still of more which I comprehend not. And my friend
SMITH he cries to me also, and he agitates the arms, and, in fine, I
comprehend that it is defended. What droll of idea!
One day there is the _régates_--the regattas. We go all on the little
pier, and I see the Duckunt, the Watter-polo, the Greasepol. Ah, it
is of the most amusings! On the promenade there is the musicians,
who play of the organ, of the banjo; also the singers that you call
"nigers." They are there all together, and one hears the valse, the
hymn, the song of the Coffee Concert, all at the time. There is also
a man who walks himself on some stilts. He is very droll, and the
assistance--_l'assistance_--laughs much. Me I laugh as the other
spectators. The evening there is a fire of artifice, and the little
town is of the most gay. There is some "set-pieces," as one calls them,
and I read "Welcome to our Visitors." That is very polite; I offer my
thanks to Misters the Municipal Councillors of Sandown. And there is
one other which I see hardly, I see but "Success to ----." My friend
SMITH tells to me that it is "Success to our Saloon Bar." That may be.
But he is _blagueur_ this SMITH, he pleasants--_plaisante_, how say
you?--sometimes.
_A vrai dire_--to true to say--Sandown is well agreeable, above all
when he makes fine. _Et il faisait un temps superbe_--he was making
a superb time. As to the other parts of the Island of Wight, I go to
speak you of them in one other letter.
Agree, &c.,