THE BATHING SEASON. ISO- 



tising posters. But no ; by his further conversation 

 I found that I had mentally slandered him ; he was 

 not a proprietor of patent medicine; he was a man 

 of education and private means; he belonged to a 

 much higher profession, in fact he was a "jogger" 

 travelling about from place to place — *' globe-trctting " 

 from capital city to watering-place — all over the 

 world in the exercise of his function. I had wondered 

 if his accent was American (petroleum- American), 

 or German, or Italian, or Kussian, or what. Now I 

 wondered no longer, for the jogger is cosmopolitan. 

 When he had exhausted his lozenge he told me how 

 many times the screw of the steamer revolved while 

 carrying him across the Pacific from Yokohama to 

 San Francisco. I nearly suggested that it was about 

 equal to the number of times his tongue' had vibrated 

 in the last ten minutes. The bathers went over twice 

 more. I was anxious to take note of their bravery, 

 and turned aside, leaning over the iron back of the 

 seat. He went on just the same ; a hint was no 

 more to him than a feather bed to an ironclad. 



My rigid silence was of no avail ; so long as my ears 

 were open he did not care. He was a very energetic 

 jogger. However, it occurred to me to try another 

 plan: I turned towards him (he would much rather 

 have had my back) and began to talk in the most 

 strident tones I could command. I pointed out to 

 him that the pier was decked like a vessel, that the 

 cliffs were white, that a lady passing had a dark blue 

 dress on, which did not suit with the green sea, not 

 because it was blue, but because it was the wrong 

 tint of blue; I informed him that the Pavilion was 



