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Down at the sea-side for a blow,

Far from the City's fogs and vapours; Away from parties hot and slow,

And scarcely within reach of papersSomething in health we hope to gain

By change of scene and recreation, As from a pleasant country lane

We forward this communication ; In this, a calm and cool retreat,

No printer's devil e'er intruded ; But we post off a single sheet,

From country quarters thus secluded : We have but small desire to write,

It goes against one's inclination; Whilst bathing is our great delight,

And yachting our chief occupation.

Instead of sitting out dull plays,

We much prefer the shingly beaches; And as around the coast we gaze,

Perchance we hear the sea-gull's screeches. Established for a fortnight here,

We banish care and smooth our wrinkles, And in a purer atmosphere,

With whelks instead of Rip van winkles. E'en Mellon's Concerts we resign

(Though free and welcome all the season), And, Alfred, what a band is thine!

If we did stay, you'd be the reason.

It suits our inclination well,

To idly catch the balmy breezes, Along the Strand - far from Pall Mall,

Here “ Your Bohemian” at his ease is. We stroll the pier, when there's a band;

May-be a steamer comes in sight, then We rush to see the people land

From Portsmouth, at the Isle of Wight; then We think some day we will go round

The island, as a slight diversion, Since there are vessels often bound

For a delightful day's excursion. We wander up and down the pier,

And criticise each belle and bonnet; Among them, many a lass is here

On whom we might compose a sonnet.

We do not envy Jones, in town,

Who has resumed his irksome duties, And we can sympathize with Brown,

Who cannot leave—“'tis pity true 'tis." A holiday, which is so rare,

Meets with your critic's approbation, As, all day in the bracing air,

We make the most of our vacation; In lieu of writing “Monthly Mems,"

We think that it is much more jolly Down on our knees to seek for gems,*

Which is at least a harmless folly. We soon perceive the change of air

Makes us as sleepy as a dormouse; Then we awake but to declare

We have an appetite enormous. We take a stroll upon the shore,

Perhaps the sea is smooth for crossing, If not, we like to hear it roar,

So long as on it we're not tossing. We breathe the air upon the cliff,

And view those bent on pleasure sailing; We see some ladies in a skiff,

And wonder whether they are ailing; We leave compositors behind,

And turn our thoughts to things aquatic; But, if for theatres still inclined,

We can indulge our tastes dramatic.

Hats marvellously masculine

Are seen of various shapes and sizes Undoubtedly unfeminine,

And sometimes rather strange disguises: Girls with their feathers all a-flying,

Sport in the sun (their sole employment); Soine children on the beach are trying

To find ('tis easy) some enjoyment; According to the morning's whim

We walk away from rout and rabble, To have our usual morning swim,

Which means an independent dabble. We pick up here and there some "weed,”

Whilst lounging in an idle manner; Although we much prefer, indeed,

The fragrance of our own Havannab.

There is a play performed each night,

Including, perhaps, the last " sensation;" So, even at the Isle of Wight,

The drama calls for observation. As we recline upon the turf,

We feel it is indeed a rich treat : 'Tis healthier here to see the surf

Than in a theatre in Wych-street; Nor need we to the Adelphi go,

And with the British public mingle, Since here are shells --"jesso, jesso !”

As substitutes for “Solon Shingle.”

Over the rocks away we roam,

Our muscles strengthened by the mission, Till we are forced to limp it home,

In an unfortunate condition.
That which would look so fast in town

Is here deemed quite correct in dresses,
Beflowered, and with hair all down,

A goodly show of auburn tresses;
Young lady-mariners of taste,

Put on the regular sou’-westers,
And with their bair down to their waist,

They furnish food for merry jesters.

* Yclept Isle of Wight diamonds.

Although some faces may appear

By such a process far from hideous, Others are not improved, 'tis clear

(We would not be at all invidious), But your Bohemian's savage breast,

Is somewhat soothed, 'tis quite diverting, And he is prone, like all the rest,

To do a little harmless flirting.

We put the vessel to our lips,

(Pure water is not our abhorrence, So your Bohemian more than sips,

And feels refreshed by good St. Lawrence).

We fancy that the streets of Ryde

Are almost steep enough for stalkingAt least they do not coincide

With our idea of pleasant walking. The day is gone e'er we can say

“ Jack Robinson," and we get through it In an odd, dreamy kind of way :

We've nought to do, with time to do it. The boatmen ask us if we care

To get on board and under sail weigh; But we prefer to wander where

There never should have been a railway.

| At Ventnor are we back, encore,

Next day through Bonchurch then returning, We find ourselves in Ryde once more,

And pen these lines such things concerping, On maidens fair why need we dwell,

By prim old dowagers attended; They seem to smile upon us-well,

Perhaps the least said is soonest mended. Of that Miss we are afraid,

Her conduct strikes us as improper; We never walk the Esplanade,

But there she is-will no one stop her? Does she consider us a prize,

That she a persevering miss is ? 'Tis folly to be-other-wise,

So long as ignorance such bliss is. Your critic brightens up apace,

In looks and genial conversation; It seems like a decided case

Of fierce (thougla innocent) flirtation. We thought one face exceeding sweet,

With teeth particularly pearly, So felt it prudent to retreat,

And leave our sea-side quarters early ! To be a stoic we don't pretend;

At Ryde we own the tender passion; Platonically we unbend,

'Tis, we observe, a sea-side fashion. Though wise in time to take the train,

Before we feel that we are undone,
Regretting that we are again
In formal, foggy, fussy London.

Ryde, Sept. 1865.

Sweet Shanklin and its pleasant Chine,

By means of train, we soon alight on; And next to Ventnor, where we dine, *

Which gives us strength to get to Niton; To bold Black Gang we go next day,

And halt at that convenient quarter; Of course we visit Alum Bay,

And find fresh air at famed Freshwater. At night we dream of shady groves,

And walks by slumber then begotten, Of quiet, sheltered little coves

(Which sounds like slang and Mr. Hotten), In spite of boat and coach and rail,

We sometimes meet a simple native,
With whom we very rarely fail

To have a word communicative.
One old dame says "she hears of crimes,

And that those papers quite unnerve her, So she won't read the Ventnor Times

Nor take the Isle of Wight Observer." We cease to burn the midnight oil,

Which is in some degree a saving, Though free from proofs, and suchlike toil,

There comes another kind of slaving; For as up Ventnor's cliffs we climb,

Our age we feel there's no concealing, Although we would, at such a time,

Give vent nor to our fears nor feeling. The smallest church we ever knew,

Comes duly under observation, Where there is scarcely room for two

The pulpit and the congregation; Where, gathered round the little door,

A knot of rustics are appearing ; They've often stood outside before,

And find it just as well for hearing. For our misdeeds we there atone,

And after we have finished praying, Although 'tis said "leave well alone,"

We take exception to the saying ;

We may perhaps be allowed further space to record, with much regret, the death of Mr. Justice Haliburton (“Sam Slick"), whose sly humour we remember in a speech he made at one of the anniversary dinners of the Royal Literary Fund; although it was difficult for those at a short distance to catch the words that fell from his lips, his immediate neighbours were convulsed with laughter. The last time we met Haliburton was on the occasion of the trial trip of the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company's steam ship “ Rangoon" to Ireland and back, rather more than two years ago, when he appeared to be in failing health, though much benefited by that short and agreeable cruise.

The announcement of the death of the widow of Thomas Moore recalls an interesting literary epoch. The deceased lady had not attained the advanced age that might have been supposed. The Times gave a long original paragraph about Mrs. Moore at the top of a column; whereas, strange to say, that journal simply quoted from a contemporary in recording the death of “Sam Slick !"

We have been informed that “The Bunch of Keys,” which it may be remembered was the title

* At the comfortable “ Crab and Lobster."

of a little work published last Christmas, will be tions of the piece to which we would take excepsucceeded by another production by the same tion, as, for instance, the scene with the Priest in writers, entitled “Rates and Taxes."

the prison-an episode that runs the risk of A series of essays has been published in the offending the majority of the audience, without Daily Telegraph,' entitled “Notes by the Way," in the least assisting the general effect. in which appeared a graphic description of Rams- Mr. Jefferson has achieved a brilliant success gate, written, we believe, by W. J. Prowse, for- as Rip Van Winkle, at the Adelphi; and Mrs. merly a contributor to your pages, and now an Billington, as his shrewish wife, acted with an established journalist, also one of the staff on intensity and truth that were of great assistance. “ Fun.”

The other characters, with little or no opportuWhen we fancied that every one was out of nity for display, were well supported, and the town we visited the Princess's to see “ Arrah na piece has been liberally put upon the stage. At Pogue,” and had some difficulty in finding a the termination of the drama Mr. Jefferson, on seat. The chief attraction to us) was the excel-being recalled, made an extremely modest speech, lent performance of Mr. Dominick Murray, in in wbich he expressed his obligations to Mr. the disagreeable character of the sneaking pro- Boucicault, Mr. Webster, and the audience. cess server, and the last scene (we mean that! In concluding this small instalment of Lonsucceeding the gymnastic efforts of Shaun the don “Mems," we would protest, in no measured Post) we thought equalled, if not excelled, any- terms, against the reprehensible conduct of Mr. thing we had ever witnessed in the way of scenic Levy, the “ Levy-athan” cornet-player at Mr. effect. Mr. and Mrs. Boucicault bave parts Mellon's concerts. When that gentleman is not much on a par with those they performed in playing he has so little respect for his audience “Colleen Bawn. The “ pisantry” being enacted and his conductor that he turns his back upon by such as are well up in the brogue, is of great them. We have even seen him read a newspaper value to the play, the weak points of which ap- n the orchestra when his services were not repeared to us to consist in the scenes between Mr. quired. Vandenhoff and Miss Oliver. There are por




have appeared in France, in spite of the great

precautions our Government takes to prevent the We shall certainly be all roasted before the | introduction of any animal coming from England summer ends. In vain we also have abandoned

or Germany. Several cases of illness from the capital for shady groves and refreshing

eating chickens attacked with a similar disease, streams. The heat is intense everywhere, and

have appeared in the hospitals in Paris. This the generally cool climate of Normandy is as

unseasonable weather is said to be the cause of sultry as that of Paris-not a breath of air any

the distemper amongst the poultry, in the where! Oh for a good shower of rain to

environs of the capital ; so that you see cooler moisten the parchy earth! And yet how beautiful

| weather is requisite in every way. the country looks, here, with its gently sloping The brothers Davenport have found Paris hills covered with trees, its smiling little valleys, rather hot also, and, although they try to brave so fresh and green, in spite of the drought, and the storm, I fear that their spiritism is on the strewed with apple-trees loaded with rosy, but

fall. Their first representation in public caused treacherous fruit !-proof that we are in a cider

quite a tumult in the room. They themselves country, and that what is good for drink is not were obliged to escape ; and the money was good to eat.

returned to the audience, whom seven or eight Château la Motte is full of sportsmen, come policemen were forced to calm. It appears that from far and near, for the opening of the their supernatural powers became transparently shooting season : they pretend that the heat is natural, in the eyes of our clear-sighted Parisians; the cause of their ill luck; that the game seeks and our famous Robin, without pretending to any shelter from the sun's rays in the standing crops kind of prepotency above his fellow-men, after of buckwheat, whence their dogs are excluded; once seeing the brothers Davenport perform, and that we shall have no hares or partridges, produced the same wonders amidst the hilarity until the air is cooler. They do look most of his audience, to whom he explained the awfully crest-fallen. When at dinner, the ladies American-mediums' tricks. These latter gentlequiz them, and enquire the result of the day's men have protested, and try to deny the facts of sport, they prefer entertaining us with recitals of second cards and moving pieces of wood in their the ruinous losses England is now sustaining by spirit-box : they declare that their intention is to the cattle plague; of which it seems, a few cases continue their invocations of noisy little demons

in the dark, until the Parisian public is converted, the expectations of those who had been present to spiritism.

at the rehearsals of the piece before-band. The The Sandon affair, which I mentioned in director and all wbo had been instrumental in my last letter, is causing great emotion; the bringing Mathews over here, trembled as they medical students having declared that after the witnessed the bad way in which your celebrated present vacations they will summon Dr. comic mumbled over his part the day before the Tardien, who is their “doyen," to answer Mr. débút; and great indeed was their surprise when Sandon's accusation, and will refuse to listen to Mathews, putting forth all his powers at the his lessons until he does. A young doctor with first representation before the public, called forth whom I was talking about the case, answered the most enthusiastic applause, which increases me, “ Oh yes, it is an abominable thing alto- nightly. Talking of theatres, that at Lyons has gether, and Tardien is a villain ; but then he is almost been the cause of an insurrection. This such a clever fellow, he will answer the young old town was for several days in a great state of students, and bring them over to his side uproar, because the director would not let a without any trouble; besides, after all, Sandon débutant, protected by the young heads of Lyons, annoyed Billault, and it is no wonder that he appear on his stage. The police got roughly should try to get rid of him!” So if a powerful handled in the fray: they were thrown down minister has an enemy, it is quite legitimate that and rolled on the stones, amidst the hisses and he should send him to a mad-house for life, and screaming of the youths, always foremost on such that in a country of egality!

occasions. “Hiss as much as you like," said General Lamoricière is gone to his last home. one of the sergeants de ville, as he managed to He was one of the conquerors of Abd-el- extricate himself, covered with mud, from his Kader ; and it is remarkable, that at the moment assailants, “but don't roll us on the ground; it that the vanquished left Marseilles in state, dirties one's trousers !” “Bravo ! bravo ! vice Lamoricière died in an obscure corner in France, le sergeant de ville !vociferated the mob, and almost unnoticed. He was, however, buried at they carried the policeman home in triumph! Nantes, with military honours. Waleswski is The director was obliged to give in, and peace named president "du Corps Legislatif," and now was restored. occupies the former residence of Mr. de Morny. | A very curious affair occupied the police the

Their Majesties are at Biarritz, and have other day. Some time ago a young lady-very received the visit of the King and Queen of pretty, very accomplished, but very poor, al. Spain. It was hinted that they wanted to con- though belonging to a good family-had been clude a match between the Queen's eldest under the necessity of giving lessons on the daughter and Prince Amedee of Italy; but that piano for a living. During that time she the marriage is not to come off. During the had been rather flirty; and, although nothing Emperor's visit in Switzerland, he was charged, could be said against her virtue, yet she had they say, 30,000 francs for one night and one written several letters on the tender passion day, by the landlord of the hotel. Imperial that might render a husband jealous. A visitors are rare I should think in those parts, German baron, smitten by Malle. Edith, of. so hotel keepers make much of them when they | fered her his hand and fortune, which were acget the chance, The Empress stayed several days cepted. When married, the young Baroness, longer than the Emperor on this trip, on account remembering the letters written to another, beof the accident which occurred to three ladies of came very much alarmed, and used every straher suite, when their horses ran away. It was a / tagem to get them again, and succeeded; but wonder it was not more serious: the Princess whether she had wished to read them before Auna Murat had a rib broken, the Duchess de burning, or whatever other motive, instead of Montebello her shoulder-bone, and the beautiful destroying them she locked them up in a secreMalle. Bouvet, reader to the Empress, a few tary for a short time. One morning, about two bruises only. Her Majesty telegraphed regu- 1 months ago, she perceived that the letters had larly twice a day to Madame Bouvet, on her | been stolen ; she had discharged her maid the daughter's health, which, of course very much day before, so concluded that the woman, for flattered the latter lady. They already begin to some bad purpose, had taken them, and was in talk of a wife for the little Prince Imperial. It is a great state of anxiety; when a few days ago a time : he is rather more than nine years old! Iman desired to speak to her in private. He

The intensity of the heat does not prevent our announced himself as a homme d'affaires, and theatres filling every night ; and in spite of all declared to the lady that he had bought her letthat has been said on the “ Africaine,” it still \ ters of her former maid for a very large sum, remains the event in the musical world : thel and that if she did not pay him the price he refirst fifty representations produced 550,000 quired for them, he should give them to the francs, and the opera-house is still as full as | Baron. The fellow was so insolent, and pat ever. Mr. Carvalho, at the “Théâtre Lyrique" such a price on them, that the Baroness, in inhas announced a new opera in three acts, dignation, ordered her servants to put him out “ Deborah”-words by E. Plouvier; music by of doors. Scarce had the man arrived home, Devinc-Duvivier, pupil of Halévy--for after the when a friend called in, and he related the cirholidays. Charles Mathews is adding to his cumstance to him, and the vengeance he intended laurels by nightly success at the “ Vaudeville," to take. A young clerk overheard the converin “L'Homme blasé” and that much against sation, and, burning with indignation, determined to baffle the rogue's designs; so, in his / At Montfermeil, a village near Paris, was turn, stole the letters, and immediately carried | born, about twenty-five years ago, on the same them to the Baroness, without ask)ng any re- day, a boy and girl, one with its head leaning ward. But the grateful lady, knowing that he to the right, the other leaning to the left. As would lose his place, rewarded him handsomely, they grew up, a kind of sympathy drew them to She then revealed to her husband what bad seek each other's society, although of no relahappened, and gave him the letters which had tion to each other. A litile while ago, some one rendered her so unhappy; but the Baron, con- | undertook to cure them by electricity, and, after fident in his wife's virtue, refused to read them, twenty trials, their heads now are straight on and threw them in the fire before her. The their shoulders, like the rest of their fellowman, in the mean time, discovered that his prey creatures; which happy event was crowned last had escaped him; and without think- week by a marriage between them, and was a ing of what he was doing, went to the public féte in the village. police, and had his clerk arrested for thest.

With kind compliments, yours truly, The whole affair, after investigation, came out, and the biter has got bit; the homme d'affaires

S. A. is in prison hiinself, accused of swindling.


LENA’S COUNTRY VISIT. “Hurrah! we're agoing at last," sung out a

small boy on the other side of the carriage, at BY NETTIE CARLISLE.

which his mother looked daggers at him, but

young hopeful did not appear to care in the One morning in June the bright sun, as he least. proceeded on his daily journey, took the liberty

Yes, going they were, slowly at first, through of peeping into the room where little Lena / the dusty city suburbs, till at last they swept Graham lay asleep, and was actually bold enough out grandly into the free air and sunshine of to send one of his beams full across her pillow. I the open country. Lena almost held her breath A moment it rested there, lighting up the pale

with delight as she gazed on the beautiful scene, face and clustering brown curls with a golden

| lighted up by the gorgeous June sunshine ; the glory, such as we see in the pictures of the

green fields covered with daisies and buttercups, saints; the next minute two blue eyes opened,

where happy little lambs frisked around their and took a sleepy survey of the room, then all

mothers; the groves where the little birds were at once became wide awake, and Lena sprang up, exclaiming, with a happy smile, “How could looked down on the sunny slopes.

twittering; and the stately mansions, that I forget? I'm going into the country to-day!" Quickly the little busy fingers adjusted the

Then they passed grand old woods, where the morning dress, and then Lena ran down-stairs

sunlight seemed to sleep on the waving treeand jumped into her father's arms, saying, “I

tops, while all beneath was so dark and still am so glad, I don't know what to do," then

that you could scarcely catch the faintest quiver stopped suddenly and added, “But you'll miss

of sunshine through the interlacing branches.

But all things must come to an end, and so me, wont you, papa?” “ Very much, my darling," he answered, and

ling" he answered, and did the pleasant ride. When the travellers the manly voice trembled; "but you must put alighted at the little country station, they found some roses into these pale cheeks, and then cousin Joe waiting for them, a great awkward you'll come back to be papa's pet again. But boy, very sunburnt, and with rough hair which here comes mamma, to say that breakfast is uiterly refused to be brushed down, but goodready : and unless you hurry, the train will be off | natured and obliging, and now quite lost in without you."

admiration of the little fairy, in her straw hat Half an hour afterwards, Lena was seated by and blue ribbons. her mother in one of the railway carriages, They stepped into the old family chaise, a waiting in the station, for the train to start. vehicle apparently as ancient and nearly as Papa lingered by their side as long as he could, roomy as Noah's Ark, which was drawn by an till the locomotive gave what Lena called “an old brown horse, rejoicing in the name of awful squeal,” warning him that he must be off, Zachariah, or Zach for shortness, as Joe said. and with one last kiss on the little pale face, he Joe touched the lazy old fellow lightly with the was gone

whip, and away he jogged, rather a slow mode

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