[Illustration: "WHEN YOU GO TO LONG BRANCH, DO NOT TAKE A NEWFOUNDLAND
DOG WITH YOU. I BROUGHT ONE DOWN WITH ME HERE, AND WHENEVER I GO OUT TO
TAKE A LITTLE DIP, THE FAITHFUL CREATURE WILL INSIST ON DRAGGING ME
ASHORE."--_Letter from a Friend_.]

* * * * *

SUMMER AT SANDY POINT.

_Sandy Point, August 18, 1870_.

PRELIMINARY FLOURISHES.

DEAR PUNCHINELLO:[1] Nature demands a change of air. Man needs rest.
Invigoration is necessary to health. The throbbing brain must shut down
on its throbbing.

Hence second-class hotels, with first-class prices; hence hard beds, no
gas, and many flies. I say--"Hence--flies," but as a general thing I
notice they will not hence.

WHERE TO GO.

Those who are fond of flees may flee to the mountains. I know when I've
got enough, and I prefer to surf it on the sea shore. Take the 3-1/2
A.M. train, and come to

SANDY POINT.