Other yachtsmen, we hear, have been stopped, and threatened.  Yachtsmen up in arms generally.  Savage artists wander along banks, denouncing Lord of Manor of Hickling.  Say they have “right of way” along banks (sounds as if they were Railway Guards).  Hear that Lord of Manor is going to put a gunboat on Broad, also torpedoes.  Hear, also, that Wroxham Broad—­one of the biggest—­is to be closed in same way.

Disgusted at such inhospitality.  Back to Yarmouth.  Give up yacht, and decide to go to Switzerland instead.  Find Yarmouth yacht-owners furious with Hickling’s Lord of Bad Manners.  Say “closing the Broads will ruin them.”  Very likely, but it’ll help the foreign hotel-keeper.  Glad to see they’ve started a “Norfolk Broads Protection Society,” subscriptions to be sent to Lloyd’s Bank.  “I know a Bank”—­and all lovers of natural scenery and popular rights ought to know it too, and help in giving the Hickling obstructionist a “heckling,” when he takes the matter (also the Manor) into Court.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  INANITIES OF THE DRAWING-ROOM.

“SEEN THE ENFANT PRODIGUE, MR. SOFTEY?”

“NO; WAITING TILL THEY DO IT IN ENGLISH!”]

* * * * *

A TRIPLE ALLIANCE.

(A SCENE OF TO-DAY, IN A SHAKSPEARIAN SETTING.)

Mr. Punch.  “How now, my hearts!  Did you never see the picture of ‘We Three?’”

Emperor.  Marry, forfend, Mr. Punch!  Well quoted indeed, and, pertinently, from the Swan!  “A mellifluous, voice, as I am a true Knight!” But talk not of things triune too openly, lest quidnuncs overhear, and L-B-CH-RE devise thereanent fresh heckling interrogations for the Treasury Bench.

Mr. Punch.  Nay, Kaiser; ’tis not the actual Triple, but the conceivable Quadruple, that perturbs the importunates. We Three form an informal but fast-knit trinity, that can offend none but churls, and affright none but dullards.  Peace, Goodfellowship, Wit!  By my bauble, a triad that PYTHAGORAS himself might have favoured!  Talking of Threes, Kaiser, it’s your third visit to us—­and, believe me, you are thrice welcome.

Emperor.  “Yea, and I thank your pretty sweet wit for it.  But look you, pray, all you that kiss my lady Peace at home” (as Jack Falstaff put it), that—­you gird not too suspiciously at those who would fain embrace her abroad!

Mr. Punch.  Well quoted, Sir, though not directed to mine address.  But “A good wit will make use of anything.  I will turn diseases to commodity.”  Two diseases of the time are, faction and fussiness—­the one a fever, the other a prurigo.  The one makes little of greatness, the other makes much of littleness.  You have been the mark of both, young Hohenzollern!

Emperor.  “An’t please you, it is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal.”