horrors that she had been able to accumulate in this matter-offact world.

So our friends proceeded to the hotel to dine, and arrived just as the patience of poor Mr. Smythe was bidding fair to give way altogether. That gentleman had used up the Times and taken a few turns along the esplanade, till he was driven off by a mammouth barrel-organ. He then retreated to the sands, where, standing in a meditative position, the sea had incontinently recalled his wandering thoughts to sublunary things, by filling his shoes with water, and recoiling back as if in remorse at the dreadful deed.

The operation of returning and remedying this disaster, together with a short perusal of the Directory, got through another hour. The waiter opportunely came in with a corkscrew, which inspired Mr. Smythe with a strong desire for bottled ale, which was forthwith supplied, and, after leisurely drinking it, he again attempted to explore the neighbourhood, but was chased back by an Italian boy with a monkey, who wanted some money in very plain English, and would not be persuaded by any assurances that the gentleman had no small change. After this, there was nothing for him but to wait for dinner.

CHAPTER VI.

"Mugeres mugeres constantes

Se encuentran se encuentran mui pocas."

CANCION ESPANOL.

THE next morning a consultation took place between Buggins and Widget, which showed that something strange must have occurred. Smythe had just fastened on the Times, and Rosa and Cordelia had gone out to bathe. The night before Rosa had paid Smythe an alarming amount of attention, nay, positively, on one occasion, Widget declared they had whispered together. As for Buggins, he was unable to be certain of anything that had taken place a yard from Miss Cordelia, who had been playing chess, and very nearly check-mated him. Whibby had been talking to Rosa in such a nonsensical way that poor Mr. Smythe's head nodded, and he was supposed to be sound asleep, but no sooner did Widget leave the room for five minutes, than, mirabile dictu, the pair became as communicative as if they had known each other for a year instead of a day.

So poor Whibbleton got decidedly fidgetty, especially as he had seen Smythe, only a quarter of an hour before, go up to Rosa as

she was preparing to leave with Cordelia for the beach, and whisper something in her ear, to which she replied, in a sufficiently loud tone to be heard,-" Yes, indeed, I shall not forget, and am so much obliged to you;" which would have been comparatively harmless, had she not put her finger on her lips to imply secresy, in a manner which puzzled our friend more than he could express. "I do hope that confounded girl, Cordelia, won't be cramming Rosa's head with all sorts of romance and nonsense. Surely, that must be it; I never saw Rosa look so mysterious and designing before."

Widget, I'm really surprised at you; one of Miss Smythe's greatest charms is that exquisite intellectuality of character, that delicate appreciation of sentiment❞—

"Humbug, my dear fellow! what do you know about her character in this time? Trust to a man of the world like myself. How can you possibly account for this extraordinary change in Rosa ?"

"Really, Whibbleton," said Bob, feeling rather vexed at the depreciation of his skilful chess-partner, "I don't see any change at all, and I believe it merely exists in your imagination."

Buggins!" cried our hero, "I merely suspected it at first; but I am now confirmed in my opinion that you're positively a muff."

This assault nearly overcame poor Robert's equanimity; but, as usual in such cases, he took refuge in his philosophy, folded his arms, and addressed Widget a la Epictetus

"The soul, my dear Whibbleton, resembles a vessel filled with water. The appearances of things resemble a ray falling upon its surface. If the water is moved, the ray will seem to be moved likewise, though it is in reality without motion."

Here Widget made for the door, but Buggins stopped him, and rapidly and effectively concluded

"Recollect, then, my dear friend, that if you are seized with a swimming in the head, it is not the realities of things which are confounded; but your mind, in which they are; and if this recovers its composure so will they likewise."

Whibbleton struggled violently, and managed to escape just at the conclusion of the last sentence. Buggins having delivered himself of so notable a scrap of wisdom, became as perfectly contented and complacent as any stoic.

Widget thought, all things considered, as water proved so large an element in the philosophic advice, perhaps the best thing he could do to set himself right would be to go and bathe, and,

accordingly he picked out a machine from among the others on the beach, and summoning his courage and resolution, was soon jolting amongst the pebbles, on his way into the surf and cool dashing waves.

Of all ludicrous positions, there are few more so than that of a man on such a journey, especially if, like our friend, he is necessarily making preparations all the time for the dread plunge and somewhat chilling embraces at first of Father Neptune-hopping about in desperate struggles to get a boot off, thrown against his own hat as soon as it is deposited on the peg of safety, knocked over and sent on his back by the lurching of the vehicle when his arms are entangled in his coat or waistcoat, now astonished to see. a general upset of his money, then horrified to behold his watch drop from the nail in the side, with a fearful crash, glass downwards to the floor. The true "infernal machines" are the bathing machines after all.

So thought poor Whibby, who halloed through the tantalizing little windows, and vowed vengeance on the driver, and pulled all the signal cords he could discover, one of which proved to be that belonging to the little flag which is hoisted on the top of the machine when the occupant wishes to be brought to shore again; and a second, the rope which is attached to the wood-work at one end, that it may be taken into the sea by the timid and inexperienced. A third cord, which was desperately twitched by Widget, was the end of the driver's lash, which came in at one of the little round holes of windows by mere chance. The driver shouted, Widget halloed, and the surf dashed and roared around the machine, which, at last, was still, resting on the sands, and our hero was left to his fate.

After a short time he grew quite bold, found the waves less powerful than he imagined, and the surf almost warm-waddled about watching others who were performing the usual bathing evolutions, walked an amazing distance, taking care to keep the bottom, as he could not swim, and persuading himself that he had been out nearly half an hour, returned among the machines.

But, alas! everything was changed; nowhere could he find the peg whereon he had carefully twined his delicate blue tie; in vain he eagerly looked on every side for the light drab coat and other articles of dress of no less importance to a decent member of society. If he attempted to enter one machine, he was wrathfully put out by a rubicund man with terrific whiskers-if he examined another, he was denounced as an impudent scoundrel; and, on invading a third, he was compelled to desist by a pair of mous

taches, which emerged from the wave with the awkward question "whether the fellow wanted kicking, or if he preferred drowning?" For a long time this seemed quite incomprehensible, but at last, the fact flashed across our hero's mind that his machine had been taken away and put up, in consequence of the unlucky flag signal, whilst he was too much engaged with the salt water and efforts to preserve his equilibrium, to pay any attention to shore matters.

The thought was distracting enough, but who shall describe the state of poor Whibby's mind, when he found it was the real interpretation of his difficulty. There, a long way off, on the unapproachable beach, was the abominable house on wheels, with one door open, and something plainly to be seen of a light colour, which was probably the drab coat. Widget made a fruitless rush into the sea, dashed about so furiously as to bring even some of the suspicious ones to his rescue, under the impression that he was drowning, and was nearly at his wit's end.

At last he determined to shout vigorously, and insist on his machine being brought back; but, at the first cry, so many people turned their heads from the distant esplanade, and Whibbleton felt so convinced Rosa and Cordelia would be amongst them, that he desisted, and plunged about in greater distress than before,

This could not go on for ever. Some more machines went off; our poor friend got cold and dispirited, and humbly related his case to the rubicund gentleman, who forthwith sent forth such sounds, with such stentorian lungs in his assistance, that before long the mistake was remedied, and very glad to escape further anticipations of being turned into a merman, Whibbleton patiently suffered another series of jolts, dressed, fondly adjusted the blue tie that he had almost given up for ever, and sallied forth “a sadder and a wiser man!"

As he entered the hotel Buggins was coming out

"Why, Widget, what a while you have been. I've exhausted myself looking for you everywhere-thought you had gone a walk -how wet your hair is. When I got back here I found that Rosa and Cordelia had been having lunch, and Smythe had taken them both out with him."

"Confound that Smythe," ejaculated Whibby, "look! there he is; ah, I knew they were there, on the esplanade; look! there he is, talking to Rosa, and how she smiles and laughs, and Cordelia Look they see us, and now they have got quite grave, preternaturally so, upon my word. Can't you see, Buggins.Pooh! you a philosopher!"

too.

"Well," remarked Robert, who had been attentively watching, "it is strange, after all.”

This speech made the two companions friends again, and it was agreed that all their philosophy and lucidity should be exerted to get to the bottom of the mystery, if there was one. Mystery, however, gets darker and thicker, like raspberry jam, for keeping, and a delay of a month in the elucidation may, probably, do no harm to the flavour!

(To be concluded in our next.)

BALA LAKE.

O WHAT a soul of music in thy waters dwells,
Thou grand and glorious lake;

As wavelet ever o'er its fellow wavelet swells,
And on the stones doth break.

The sun as if entranced by thy melody,
Lies on thy swelling breast,

And with each undulation sparkling joyously,

Silvers each wavelet's crest.

And through the vale, and up the neighbouring hills, thy song
The grateful breezes bear,

Who kiss thy waves, and scatter from their pinions strong
Sweet showers upon my ear.

A rainbow lies upon the bosom of the hill,

And tints thy silvered breast,

Thy music must have charms to make him linger still,

So long he seems to rest.

And all the trees, as if enamoured of thy sound,

Wave trembling to and fro,

And sweeter even than their wonted song is found,
The responses they blow.

Then on thy banks reclining in sweet reverie,

I thy entrancements feel;

Like Nature's mightiest joys unconsciously

They o'er my senses steal.

Great God, such rapture unto man is rarely given,

To seem absorbed in Thee;

But here my soul is filled with all the bliss of heaven,
And prayerful ecstasy.

Oh, silently the deep devotion doth arise,

From heart, and not from tongue;

How could I hope, O God, to sing, when from the skies
Thyself hast sent the song.