GENERAL SURVEY 19 



Certainly one kind of folk who never did resort 

 hither were architects of taste. Stucco stared from 

 the top of every hill ; stucco squatted toad-like 

 in every valley ; and then volatile Harley Street 

 jilted us ; the Riviera rose from out the azure sea ; 

 and we cater for quite another kind of " resorters " 

 now. These folk desire piers and promenades, winter 

 palaces with brass bands playing in them, and re- 

 freshment bars that run round three sides of the 

 building. They expect musical entertainments hourly; 

 and they like automatic machines stationed at every 

 few yards for the production of sweetmeats, cigar- 

 ettes, scent, and post-cards. They are ready to drop 

 their pennies into anything that will offer them a new 

 sensation. We of the old guard note the occurrence 

 of the bands and winter palaces in the rates. But we 

 do not seek them ; we do not need them ; and we 

 never go near them. Our sun is fast setting; we 

 belong to the grand old stucco period ; we linger on, 

 like bluebottles in October, and we pay our increasing 

 taxes to the end. An hour is close at hand when 

 men with black faces and comic hats will play our 

 requiem upon the tambourine and bones. What must 

 happen to the "resort" after we are all sleeping in 

 our expensive tombs, I tremble to think. Succeeding 

 generations may visit the ruins of our villas and 

 speculate upon the race that inhabited them. Ser- 

 mons may be preached (if sermons are still permitted) 

 to the " resorters " of the time to come. They will be 

 told to take warning by our luxury and indolent ease; 

 there may even rise f some Gibbon to tell the tragic 



