and merry," to it. It's not very "bright," and it certainly isn't
"merry."

_Black's Guide to Kent_ for 1890, useful in many respects, but not
quite up to date. The Baron cannot find any information about the
splendid Golf Grounds, nor the Golf Club at Sandwich; it speaks of
Sir MOSES MONTEFIORE'S place on the East Cliff of Ramsgate as if
that benevolent centenarian were still alive; and it retains an
old-fashioned description of Ramsgate as "The favorite resort of
superior London tradesmen"--"which," says the Baron, "is, to my
certain knowledge, very far from being the case." It talks of
the "humours of the sands," and alludes to what is merely the
cheap-trippers' season, as if this could possibly be the best time for
Ramsgate. The _Guide_ knows nothing, or at least says nothing, of
the Winter attractions; of the excellent pack of harriers; of the
delightful climate from mid-September to January; of the southern
aspect; of the pure air; of the many excursions to Ash, Deal,
Sandwich, Ickham, and so forth; nor can the Baron discover any mention
of the Granville Hotel, nor of the Albion Club, nor of the sport for
fishers and shooters; nor of the Riviera-like mornings in November and
in the early Spring, which are the real attractions of Ramsgate, and
make it one of the finest health-resorts in Winter for all "who
love life, and would see good days." "It reminds me," says the Baron,
puffing off his smoke indignantly, "of Mr. IRVING and a certain
youthful critic, who, in his presence at supper, had been running
down _Macbeth_, finding fault with the Lyceum production of it,
and ridiculing SHAKSPEARE for having written it. When he had quite
finished HENRY IRVING, 'laying low' in his chair at the table,
adjusted his pince-nez, and, looking straight at the clever young
gentleman, asked, in the mildest possible tone, 'My dear Sir, have you