du
pays_, but I detest what Mr. "DUMB-CRAMBO" would call--

[Illustration: The Whine of the Country.]

* * *

_A propos_ of walks in a wretched condition, why don't their Worships,
the Maires of Royat and Chamaliere, lay their heads together and mend
the footpaths? In making the above suggestion, I do not contemplate
wood-pavement. No: but I do think that these beggars might be utilised.

* * *

_Pensees d'un Baigneur._--A bather has plenty of time to emulate the
celebrated parrot. What can he do--the bather not the parrot--in his
bath, except think? He can talk, hum, or sing. He can recite: and
exercise his voice and memory. But this would attract attention, and I
fancy the talking, singing, or reciting bather would very soon be
requested to keep quiet. Therefore he must think. He may not sleep: it
is not permitted by the faculty. No: thinking is the thing. The time in
a bath,--thirty-five minutes of it--passes as a dream, and the thoughts
are as difficult to catch and fix as butterflies. Here are a few:--

It is absolutely necessary to please oneself even in things apparently
indifferent. Out of politeness, I yielded yesterday to an invitation to
take a drive of two hours. I was ill for nearly a couple of days
afterwards.... So was the kind person who took me. I believe she meant
it well, and intended it as an act of politeness. (N. B. This was
written within the first seven days of the "_traitement_". This sort of
thing must come out of you. The waters bring out selfishness and
ingratitude.)

* * *

Morning after morning I find myself staring at the notice on the wall at
the foot of my bath. From that I gather that I am a "titulaire." My
bath-cell is No. 17. So as Titulaire I am Number Seventeen,--like a
convict. My Gaoler, the bathman, does not know me perhaps by any other
name than "Monsieur &c., Dix-Sept." Ah, well, I never thought I should
be seventeen again. But I am--at Royat. How it must be re-juvenising me!

* * *

I have been looking over a list of excursions to various "Salubrities
Abroad." Among them I find this:--"_De Lyon en Savoie et en Dauphine par
Saint-Andre-le-Gaz, et retour_".

"St. Andrew-the-Gas" sounds a novel name in a calendar. He was evidently
a Saint much in advance of his time. An excellent man of course
"according to his lights."

* * *

I saw a subject here for Mr. MARKS, R.A. A bearded Franciscan Monk in
his brown habit, with cord and