[Illustration:  THE ONLY MAN IN ROTTEN ROW.

SCENE FROM THE RAKE’S PROGRESS.]

* * * * *

LADY GAY’S SELECTIONS.

Mount Street, Grosvenor Square.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,

Once more I am back in my London “pied-a-terre”—­(but how it can he a pied-a-TERRE, I don’t quite know, considering it’s a flat on the fourth floor!—­ridiculous language French is to be sure!)—­and

very glad to get home again I assure you.  I have spent the last few weeks in the Isle of Wight, which is a British Possession in the latitude of Spithead—­(I don’t know why Spithead should want any latitude, but it seems to take a good deal!)—­sacred to Tourists, Char-a-bancs, and Pirates—­the latter disguised as Lodging-letters!

While there we suffered severely from Regattas; which swarm in the Island at this season, and are hotly pursued by the visitors, with the deadly telescope.  I myself was bitten once by the Regatta Bacteria, and very painful it was.  My friend, Baron VON HODGEMANN, owner of the Anglesey, persuaded me to go on board for a race, and we travelled the whole thirty miles sitting at an angle of forty-five degrees, and singing the war-cry of the Royal Victoria Yacht Club!—­

To the mast-head high we nail the Burge,[1]
When the north wind snores its dismal dirge! 
In the trough of the sea with a mighty splurge,
The quiv’ring Yacht beats down the surge,

                    And weathers the Warner Light!

This experience having inspired me with courage, I indulged in another flight of daring which required all the aplomb of a leader of Fashion to carry out successfully; and, though few of the “smart” Ladies of my set habitually indulge in the habit.  I am happy to think I am encouraging them in a healthy and amusing pastime, which, in the Summer, may in time even rival Lawn Tennis!  However—­not to beat about the bush any longer—­an utterly absurd expression this is!—­as if it could hurt the bush to beat it!—­to say nothing of the difficulty of keeping a bush always handy to beat!)—­it is time I told you what this great achievement of mine was—­I went paddling! There!—­the secret is out!—­the Fashion is set!—­the new Summer Amusement discovered!  The Rules of the Game are being written, and will shortly be published under the title, “Routledge’s Etiquette of Paddling, for Ladies of Good Standing.”  I need hardly tell you that the first thing necessary is to find a secluded bay, and it is also advisable to collect a few children to take with you—­(there are usually plenty left about on the beach from which you can make a selection)—­as a sort of excuse;—­no other implements are required for the game, in fact, superfluities are a nuisance and only get wet—­thus equipped—­the game can be played with freedom—­(not from pebbles)—­combined of course with propriety, and will be found amusing and invigorating—­(quotation from the preface to the Book of Rules written by the eminent German Doctor, HERR SPLASHENWASSER—­inventor of the Water-Cure.