The fashionable Weymouth of to-day is the Melcombe Regis of the past,
and quite a proportion of visitors to Melcombe never go into the real
Weymouth at all. The tarry, fishy and beery (in a manufacturing sense
only) old town is on the south side of the harbour bridge and has
little in common with the busy and popular watering place on the north
and east. Once separate boroughs, the towns are now under one
government, and Melcombe Regis has dropped its name almost entirely in
favour of that of the older partner.

How many towns on the coast claim their particular semicircle of bay
to be "the English Naples"? Douglas, Sandown and even Swanage have at
some time or other, through their local guides, plumed themselves on
the supposed resemblance. It is as inapplicable to these as it is to
Weymouth, though the latter seems to insist upon it more than the
rest. Apart from the bay, which is one of the most beautiful on the
coast, boarding-house Weymouth is more like Bloomsbury than anywhere
else on earth, and a very pleasant, mellow, comfortable old
Bloomsbury, reminiscent of good solid comfortable times, even if they
were rather dowdy and dull. Not that Weymouth is dull. In the far-off
days of half-day excursions from London at a fare that now would only
take them as far as Windsor, the crowds of holiday-makers were wont to
make the front almost too lively. But away from such times there are
few towns of the size that make such a pleasant impression upon the
chance tourist, who can spend some days here with profit if he will
but make it the headquarters for short explorations into the
surrounding country and along the coast east and west, but especially
east.