The Savannah morning news., 1903-07-26


the stunts" he enjoyed himself like I
boy of Is and told everybody tha
there was nothing like it in all Eng.
land.
He was right. Coney Island. this
city of pleasure palaces and neck
breaking sports, has its duplicates al
over the United States, from New
York to San Francisco, and from Buff
falo TO New Orleans. But il is purely
an American institution. and the Eng
Hshman's eyes bulge out with wonder
when he sees 1t.
Let us go down to Coney and have
a good time on the beach" said New
Yorker to an English cousin whom he
was entertaining the other day.
The Englishman looked troubled, but
agreed. All the way down in the car
he was quiet and melancholy but
when he landed on the beach in the
midst of thousand sideshows and
heard fakirs to the right of him and
s'howlers" to the left of him volley and
thunder. he gaped in openmouthed
amazement until his friend had to drag
him from underneath the wheels OF
diminutive locomotive which was
ninglng in a light-hearted way with
the crowd.
''Rv Jove!" he exclaimed. IT'S aw-
fully jolly. don't you know. The people
actually seem to be enjoying them
selves"
Then he succumbed to a violent par
oxvsm of the disease known as
''Coneyitis." He shot the chutes, yell
ing as loudly as the boy in the next
seat He slid down the corkscrew
staircase on the seat of his trousers.
He rode the bucking bronchos and
galloped on the merry go-round. he
distinguished himself at the shying
alley and, to his huge delight, was pre-
scented with a gaudy cane by the be-
nevolent proprietor. He navigated the
subterranean river. went down the
coal mine, took a trip to the moon
and a voyage under the sea. He yell
ed with the fakirs, howled with the
howlers. devOured vast quantities of
clam chowder Rnd peanuts, and at
last-most ecstatic moment Of all
he 'looped the loop"
Then he lay down exhausted on the
beach moPoed his brow and said he
had had the time of his life.
But what does an Englishman do
when he has days holiday in the
summer" asked the American.
Doesn't he have a good time, too?"
NO" was the decided reply, "he
has the worst time in his life" and
the recollection of many a melancholy
English holiday made the joys of
Coney fade for a moment from the
Englishmean's face. But the discord-
ant notes of the bankers. which were
as music to his ears, recalled his late
adventures, and then he went on:
The EngIixhman's PitiabIe Merry
making.
Take the pitiable case of the aver
age London clerk or mechanic. earn
ing Sc or IS a week. One of his great
ambitions is to have what he calls "a
day at the seaside at least once a
year.
For weeks and months he looks
forward to this holiday, and saves up
money for it-50 cents a week. His
wife gets some new clothes for the
children to wear on the great occa-
sion. and the children themselves cut
notches on the bedpost to mark the
slow passage of the days towards the
glorious date.
When the day dawns, very likely IL
IS foggy or raining; but the family
rush off to 4 2 railway station, flatter-
ing themsely, it will be fine at the
seaside. They join an excursion as
they call it. of perhaps a hundred
d
seaside resort 200 miles away There
are similar resorts within fifty. twenty
or ten miles; but they would never
dream of going to one of those instead.
The English Cheap trippers,' as
the great array of holiday makers Is
called, have one fixed idea-to go as
far as possible over the railroad in one
day at the cheapest possible rate.
Nothing else seems to matter If they
can only achieve that ambition. Our
typical family may live within ten
miles of Scarborough. the best of the
English summer resorts, but they
wouldn't think of going there. The
children would feel that they had been
swindled. No, they must travel down
TO the other end of England to find
a place infinitely inferior to Scar
borough in every way.
They struggle like wild beasts for
a seat in the train with thousands of
other holiday makers. If they don't
get one, they probably have to stand
for five or six hours. If they do get
one, their tenderest corns are tram
pied upon by the unfortunate people
who are obliged to stand.
"Our typical clerk may be a quiet,
decent sort of man at ordinary times,
but when he blossoms out into a
cheap tripper he becomes as savage
as a Bengal tiger. Before the train
has Acll TIE STATION ne ndRS MS WIG,
sccolds his children, apd quarrels with
two or three of his fellow passengers.
Four-and-sixpence, return fare
he grumbles to the clerk in the book
ing office. The papers said four bob.
What are yer givin' me. / want the
tickets for four bob
You won't get them retorts the
clerk. Stand aside and make way for
the crowd
''Gimme the tickets shouts the
merrymaker. 'Blarst yer, who are
yer shown of?-this to an impa-
tient man next in line at the window
Now, then, Mariahi Mariahl Where
are them children? Why don't you
look after them stead of gapin'
around at other people like stuck
pig? Jimmy, what are you doin' F?
Suckin' toffee again! Aain't told yer
not to do that? Marian, you oughter
know better than to let i'm make a
little beast of hisself.'
And so he RACES around the plat
form, finding fault with everything
and everybody, until the whistle blows
warningly, and he hurries aboard the
train to find himself sandwiched be-
tween an old woman who drinks gin
out of stone bottle all the way and
somebody else's toffee-sucking infant
at is miserable train journey, in
dirty little cars which an American
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.M@TETTnMs e0pie VINO SUI