"There something in you heart, milady," he say then. "Ha! ha! you in love!" he say, slily.

Then she laugh, and he go away.

But Mr. T., her brother, he come to visit her, and ask her why she so nervous and sad, and she tell him all about Charlotte, and she

say: "Henry, I am miserable wizout Hudsonne, but I am too proud to write and ask her to come."

"Well, well," say Mr. T., "don't fret yourself ill, my dear. That's a fool thing-a bêtise. Poof!"

But ze next day Mr. T. took a pen in his hands, and he wrote to Charlotte :

"CHARLOTTE,—I hope you not refuse to come back to your mistress ; for it is a family wish, and she ill, and not get on wizout you. Ah! " HENRY T."

So Charlotte write backwards, and say she would come, if Miss T. would pay her for the time she lose, not in place, since she left; and Mr. T. say, "Oh, you shall."

So she came, and Miss T. receive her very kind, and say,

"Oh, Charlotte-is it you? And I am glad to see your back, Charlotte."

And Charlotte say she very sorrowed to go, but if Miss T. make it comfortable, she stay till-till no time! Yes, she stay-though she want to go and take a little house, with a little business, and a servantmaid, and chickens, and a husband.

And Miss T. say, "Charlotte, you stay wiz me, and never mind marrying (which is nozing, believe me), and I leave you some provisions in my will."

So Charlotte stay. But Miss T. ask her, while she dress her hairs, who she wanted to marry; and when Charlotte not answer, she say again :

me.

"I suspect it Theodore-eh ?"

And she seem not to like it, though she would before speak well of And afterward she do bad-as I shall tell you, sir.

very

IN THE CELLAR.

Well, sir, there was one malfortunate thing. That Flannery-Kitty Flannery-the under-housemaid. She was a great tale-talker, and I think she spy upon me. I once pass three hours in a white waistcoat, on

ze top of a coal!

It was this:

Miss T. say to Charlotte while she dress her, "Charlotte, why Theodore never come to see you? You say he love you, and he come not. Poof!"

"Madam," say Charlotte, quiet, "you know no followers allowedTheodore knew your rule, and he spare your feelings."

(And so I did, sir, for I always tie my handkerchiefs round my foot, and steal down the back-area.)

"Oh," say Miss T., "that no matter. Love get through all holes, and play snap-fingers at regulations."

"Did he, ma'am ?" say Charlotte, innocent. "Very well. You know more about him than I do."

Well, sir-and so, next night, I come to the area, and that fool Flanagan, the Irish footman (a great rogue, and my friend), forget to oil the lock, and only rub the chain; so the lock go cle-e-ek, and Miss T. hear him, where she sit tea-ing wiz Lord Jones and Miss Augusta, who should marry his lordship, and she get up and come down. But we get notice-and oh! what a row!

"Here, Theodore-the scullery!"

"No, no, the chimney! Quicks! quicks!"

"No, she look there! The oven, Theodore. It nearly cool. You won't care, for ten minute."

Here, Theodore, the coal-hole-that's the place," said that spiteful Flannery. And, wiz my white waistcoat, and new black coat and wristbands, I go down to the coals.

Miss T. enter. "Who zat ?"

"If you please, 'm, it was not any person at all, 'm." "I say, who zere? I heard the area-gate squeak."

"Please, 'm," said cook, all grave, "it's the cat. She makes a noise for all the world like that ere area-gate. 'Ad rat that cat! It's my belief she does it a-puppies to tease. We're runned off our legs, we are, a-going to that area to let nobody in."

"It's very odd," say Miss T. "Well, leave these doors open. I don't mind the noise. I like to hear your cheerful voices."

Yes, please, 'm."

And Miss T. go; and she sit up till half-past twelve. Lord Jones go away; and Miss Augusta to bed; and I, in my white waistcoat, counting my thumbs, for three hours, on the top of a coal!

But I grow tired at last. All the servants go to bed, except Charlotte and that Flannery, and still Miss T. sit up. Then I hear her call for fresh candles, and ach! I know she suspect me. So I get up, open the coal-door, and walk out like a gentleman come to take my teas. Miss T. look up quiet, not surprise; and she say:

"Oh, Theodore! how you do? I'm afraid you find my cellar dull. Why you in such haste to leave us, Theodore?"

I was mad, and I say, bowing:

"Madam, you know love get through all holes, even coal-holes-but perhaps he not like to stay there always."

And I go.

:

EARLY STRUGGLES.

Yes, sir and so, at last, Charlotte resolve to go hands and feet, and we fix the day; but she promise to stay wiz Miss T. till the very morning. I take her from Miss T.'s house to the church, and then to her own.

Now, Charlotte fortune was 1807, and of that we pay 130l. for the goodwill of the café, and 30%. for rent, and 201. we put by for a showery day.

Before Charlotte leave Miss T., she say to her, spiteful, “If you had not marry a German, Charlotte, I give you a wedding-breakfast cost me 1001. Now, you take, if you wish, ze old stair-carpet; and I promise you I look sharp after my plate-chest, for I think you rent get in arrear, and Theodore pay it in silver-spoons. Poof!"

Yes, sir; and I wrote to Miss T. when I hear this, and I say:

MISS,-You say I take you spoon to pay my rents. My rent is paid! What you say to zat? You no need to say I take you spoon. “I remain, Miss, respectfully, your oblige humble servant,

"THEODORE."

But I thought it too-what you say-sharp, for a lady, sir, so I burned my letter.

Well, we were married; and, ze next day, when we get up, I say to

Charlotte :

"Well, my dears, we must get up and begin the world. Where is the money, eh? How much, Charlotte, my dears?"

(But I only laughed in my sleeves.)

She look up and say, wiz a smile that made her look so prettier than even she is:

"Eighteenpence, Theodore."

“Ah,” I say, "zat not much, eh? Lend me your watch, my dear. Here, too, is mine. I go to my bank.”

And I go to a place in Oxford-street where I know, and I say to the

man:

"Can I have 47. on these?"

The man looked at the watch, and then he look up in my eyes, and say directly,

"You can have 81.

So I run back, and pour de money into Charlotte lap, and I say:

"Charlotte, don't mind. We are honests and we are resspectables, and loyal to each other. Our Lord will care for us, and we shall walk up ze hill."

That day we open our cafe. It was painted nice, and furnished, and outside was:

Before twelve o'clock that day, there came a ring, and a party of German foreigners.

"Haben sie Platz ?"

ya-ya wohl."

"Sechs ?"

"Ya-ya."

So that very night we had six of our twelve beds occupied-everybody paying 8s. a day for food and rest and firements.

Pretty well to begin with. Ah!

"There's Wiesbaden-thank you, sir. Hè!"

Thus it happened that I arrived at the top of my hill, and Theodore at the first platform of his, at the same moment.

SEA-SIDE RECREATIONS.*

IT is daily becoming more and more sensibly felt that fresh air, saltwater bathing, long walks, and lovely and romantic scenery, by no means constitute all the resources of the sea-side. Collecting a few brightcoloured shells, searching for pebbles, and gathering what wrack and weeds and stray forms of animal life are thrown up by the tide-thanks to Harvey's beautiful little Sea-side book and to the Aqua-vivaria at the different zoological gardens-are becoming to a great extent superseded by a still more delightful occupation-the study of the curious forms, and still more curious habits, of the animated beings that abound on our

coasts.

Few persons are fully aware of the many strange, beautiful, and wondrous objects that are to be found by searching those shores which every season are crowded in the pursuit of pleasure that is perpetually vanishing, when thought to be actually within the grasp; while to the humble lover of nature, a true and legitimate source of recreation is ever present, ever renewing itself, ever springing up, even at his feet, in new and fascinating shapes. Most curious and interesting, indeed, are the forms of animal life dwelling often neglected within a few yards of where the idler stands, whose lovely forms and hues, whose exquisitely contrived structures and amusing instincts, would not fail to attract his attention and afford him interest, were he only cognisant of their existence.

Here is Mr. Gosse, a naturalist who has before earned distinction by a careful study of the wonders of creation in inter-tropical countries; he comes home, studies too hard, and, as a natural consequence, loses his health; he is ordered change of air and exercise; he repairs to the coast of Devonshire, and finds on his own shores as much, if not more, to amuse him, to occupy his time in healthful recreation and to write about, as if he had spent the same time on the unexplored shores of Africa.

This is the tone of mind with which to enjoy the sea-side. How popular will these delightful rambles on the sea-coast become! One glance on arrival at the bluff red headlands marshalled out by Petit Tor, the white houses of Exmouth shining in the full afternoon sun on the blue hazy shore, irregular rocks, with strong iron bars driven in here and there as a fastening for herring nets, sand and shingle, with young dogfish putrefying as useless, a wilderness of boulders beyond, and then down we go among the rocks and amid the boulders to peer into the pretty tide-pools, full of pure sea-water, quite still, and as clear as crystal. From the rocky margins and sides of these little tide-pools the puckered fronds of the sweet oar-weed (Laminaria saccharina) spring out, and gently drooping, like ferns from a wall, nearly meet in the centre; while other more delicate sea-weeds grow beneath their shadow. Sea-anemones, with slender tentacles set round like a fringe, of an olive colour or a deep rich red, sometimes brightening into blood-red, are

*A Naturalist's Rambles on the Devonshire Coast. By Philip Henry Gosse, A.L.S., &c. John Van Voorst.

scattered about the sides. The bottom is paved with small muscles, and fringed with dwarf fuci, ulve, and coralline-representatives of the olive, green, red, and stony sea-weeds. Under the great boulders are found whole colonies of the smooth sea-anemones and curious dense sponges. Beyond these, again, are great blocks of stone invested with a clothing of slippery sea-weeds, or covered at the edges with shells of serpulæ, which cruelly cut the fingers in turning them over-yet what a harvest below! whole colonies of those elegant creatures, the nakedgilled mollusca, are there awaiting the return of the tide. There is the large grey Eolis papillosa, there the little Doris bilamellata, there the pretty green Polycera ocellata, and the most lovely of all, the exquisite Eolis coronata, with tentacles surrounded by membranous coronets, and with crowded clusters of papillæ, of crimson and blue that reflect the most gem-like radiance. When these pretty captives are taken home and placed in what might be called a compensating vase, that is to say, a vase of sea-water, in which there is just so much vegetable life as will compensate for the consumption of aeriform gases by animal life (and all young naturalists should know how to make their own aquæ-vivaria), they will live almost any time. Place among these active Eolides a large but sluggish Anthea, or a helpless Actinia, and they will attack them at once, eat holes in their sides, or actually devour their tentacles. Thus, even in these apparently placid, tranquil tide-pools, there is the same war, the same system of compensations going on as everywhere else, and one portion of the humblest creatures that are endowed with organic life are busy destroying another portion. So it is in the whole scale of creation up to man, who is never long happy without an occasional onslaught of races against races-families of men madly destroying other families of

men.

To turn, however, to topics suggestive of more agreeable ideas, we have on the Devonshire coast the rock honey-combed into a thousand little cavities by a stone-boring shelled mollusk, Saxicava rugosa, which, as it only attacks limestone, is probably assisted in its operations by an acid secretive power, and these honey-combed structures extending to beyond the reach of present tides, so it would appear that the rocks have been elevated since the existence of these stone-borers.

In the larger and lower tide pools, that are separated from the sea only at spring tides, large prawns swim at freedom among great oar weeds and tangles. It is curious that in the aquæ-vivarium the prawn loses his fine zebra-like colours in a few hours: he cannot bear the light, living as he does in a state of nature in the obscurity of deep holes and rocky pools. At Brixham, a handsome shell, very regularly conical, Trochus ziziphinus, is found under the large stones at low water, as is also the beautiful scallop Pecten opercularis. Mr. Gosse ascertained that the animal of this shell possessed the power of leaping. At Petit Tor is found also the Rosy Feather Star, and at Watcombe, the Sea Lemon, Doris tuberculata, the largest of our naked-gilled mollusca.

Mr. Gosse's great natural vivarium at this part of the coast was a certain rock-pool at Oddicombe, which he thus graphically describes :

I took another look at my pretty little rock-basin at Oddicombe. It is a deep, oval, cup-like cavity, about a yard wide in the longest diameter, and of the same depth, hewn out, as it were, from the solid limestone, with as clean a Nov.-VOL. XCIX. NO. CCCXCV.

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