bourg. (Here he arrives at the end of his tether, and winds up generally.) And then we could look about, see what was to be seen, and return by -by-(forgets the names with which he had intended to inpress Mrs. B.) -by lots of places, and so home.

'Mrs. B. (liking the idea, and allowing herself to be slightly taken in). But what could we do with t the children?

'Mr. B. (who has foreseen this loophole from the first). Ah, that's it! We can't take them with us. Fancy

caravan- -(seeing that his wife doesn't enter into the humour of the idea, he fancies the rest to himself, and is much amused).

'Mrs. B. (inspired). We might get them a little cottage somewhere, where they'd be perfectly comfortable, and then go away.

'Mr. B. (with an eye to the probable expenses of such an arrangement, and the certain curtailment of his own personal enjoyment). Yes, that wouldn't be a bad notion. But(doesn't quite see how to frame an objection)—but, it's expensive.

'Mrs. B. Oh dear, no; not a bit more than if we were all at Brighton.

'Mr. B. (dubiously). Oh! it would be, though. Besides (adroitly touching a chord in the maternal heart), we shouldn't like to be away so long from our children.

'Mrs. B. (trying to steel herself). Oh! they'd be perfectly happy with nurse. Nurse is very fond of them.

'Mr. B. (following up his cowardly attack). Yes, she is. Why the baby last year, while you were away for a short time, got so fond of her that she wouldn't take to you at all— would she?

"This last hit settled the business. Boulogne, Calais, Amiens, Ronen, Strasbourg, Strasbourg Cathedral, all faded away like a dissolving view, and in their place came Brighton. *(Mr. Bingle's

'May 25: * * diary for this day was put in and read.) ** Settled the matter at last. Brighton is not our destination.

We shall try Littlebeach, in Sussex. Somebody dropped in and said, "Why don't you go to Littlebeach?" We looked at one another. The thing was simple enough. Why didn't we go to Littlebeach? We

gave it up, like a riddle. Our friend said, "Littlebeach is the place. Such an air! nice houses; very quiet; sands; no shingle to speak of; soon over at Mowbray Castle." What was Mowbray Castle? "Not know Mowbray Castle! Beautiful grounds, artificial lake, gardens, lawn, keep, band on Sundays, pic-nics, old helmets, spears, hunting-horns, portraits by Holbein and Van Thingummy, you know, in Henry the Eighth's time--ah, no matter-well, portraits of all the old dukes; and stags, deer in the park, and a dairy -beautiful Gothic dairy; stable,in fact you never saw such a charming place. Oh! you must go and see Mowbray Castle!-but of course you will if you're at Littlebeach." And for children? "Oh! the best place for children. No horses nor carriages; a large green, where they can play about all day without the chance of being run over. Expensive? oh dear, no! if you get your rooms now; but of course, in the season-' 'Oh! then there is a season?'

It is, perhaps, scarcely necessary to remark that it was the male interest that suggested this last inquiry. Littlebeach, however, seemed to accommodate all parties. There was quiet, and rest, and small expense for Paterfamilias (I don't mind speaking of myself under this title, but I do not care about anybody else applying it to me); there was a sort of Happy Huntingground for the children, and a Season for the female interest.

'Then said we, with one voice, "Let us decide on Littlebeach ;" and so on Littlebeach we accordingly decided.'

Thus far Mr. Bingle's diary, which treats chiefly of his reasons for choosing Littlebeach in preference to any other beach. The Commissioner asked the witness whether Littlebeach came up to his expectations, and whether which was the important point for the public out of doors-whether he could recommend Littlebeach as one of the best, if not the best watering-place, for a sojourn during the summer and autumn months?

The witness replied that Little

beach quite came up to his expectations, in fact exceeded them; he begged to explain that he meant in point of expense. If his evidence would be of any service to the public out of doors (though as regards the beach and green those might be enjoyed gratis), or to the public indoors, which was of more importance in the way, for instance, of lodgings, he would be delighted to give it.

Might he read extracts from his diary? He might. Very good. Then the public would be able to judge for itself. He would call his extract generally Littlebeach. He would first treat of the geographical position of, and the means of reaching, Littlebeach.

(Extract from Diary.)

'Littlebeach is on the Sussex coast. As I've from day to day postponed buying a map I am unable to state exactly where it is. It is not far from Worthing, because I've driven there from Littlebeach, and a lovely drive it is; in fact, I think you pass Worthing in the downtrain from London, or pass London in the up-train from Bognor, which stops when there on notice being given by somebody. This is the

reminiscence of something in "Bradshaw," but not having his Guide at hand I cannot be certain of my quotation. Littlebeach has no shingle to speak of but plenty of sand miles of sand. There's a fine green that serves for the children, divided by a gravel-walk that serves for a promenade. There's one row of houses with the advantage of facing the green and the sea, and behind it another row of houses without any advantage at all. The first are very expensive but very fair; the latter, comparatively, more expensive, and, beyond all comparison, very unfair. There is a charming little inn, called the "Beach Hotel," or "The Beach Hotel Inn," as if the proprietor had not yet made up his mind as to the style of his house. I fancy that now Littlebeach has a railway station all to itself (formerly it divided the convenience with Mowbray, inland, where the Castle is), the question is settled, and "inn" is altogether

dropped, as too plebeian. By the way, members of the Roman Catholic body will find a chapel here. They used, the waiter informed me, to havo mass said every Sunday morning in a private room of the inn, at 7 A.M., these veritable Early Christians! The Lady of Mowbray Castle is the patroness belonging to the ancient faith. What made me think of this was, that an Established Anglican clergyman keeps a school or takes pupils here, and lives in a beautiful house at the end of the advantageous terrace, and the boys have a capital cricket field bounded by a low sea-wall of flint. There's no difficulty in getting to Littlebeach when you've once taken your seat in the right carriage. There is a difficulty in finding the right carriage, as some go through and some don't, and both look, to the inexperienced eye, exactly alike. Care must also be taken as to what official you seek out in order to make inquiries. Some officials know a little about it, a few know something less about it, and others know nothing about it. It is safest to consult the last, as they'll set about asking questions of others as much for their own information as for yours. Some guards go all the way, others only go part of the way; neither will be of any service to you: this is my experience.

Moreover, you will do well not to rely upon any information with which the ticket-clerk may furnish you. Observe that when he replies to your question it is with an answer that he has been obliged to obtain from a fellow-clerk, and goodness knows where he got it from. The sum of all is, put this and that together, and you'll get comfortably down to Littlebeach. When there, drive at once to the "Beach Hotel," where you will be unable to obtain a room, because they are so full, and so very busy that a waiter can only give you half an answer as he is rushing into one room with the duck, and the other half when he is running out to fetch the green peas that have slipped his memory. The people in the bar will be disinclined to answer you at all, but after some deliberation think it not

improbable that you may be able to get lodgings at No. 3, in the advantageous terrace. On the whole, their opinion is against the possibility of your obtaining accommodation anywhere. The improbabilities and impossibilities generally resolve themselves into the landlady managing, somehow or another, to get you something at Mrs. Grigson's cottage, not a hundred yards off, until a family now apparently filling the entire hotel, has departed. You take what you can, and find that, if you'd gone to look for yourself, you could have had a choice of almost any number of rooms (if at the end of May) in the advantageous terrace. Don't take a cottage at Littlebeach, however attractive it may appear, until you have ascertained that there are no draughts, no mice, no rats, that all the windows and doors can be fastened, that the rain won't come in, that the chairs won't break down, that the kitchen range will cook something besides chops, that the sanitary arrangements are satisfactory, that the garden belongs to the temporary tenant, that there is water on the premises, and a few other little matters all more or less tending to the comfort of the lodger. This is for the guidance of the in-door public. I think there is more rain at Littlebeach than anywhere that I know of-at least there was during our stay.

'There is a depôt of soldiers encamped on the other side of the river Mow, which runs into the sea by Littlebeach. These bold militaires are very pretty and flashy, in the sun, at a distance, and in the matter of bugling they must have arrived at a greater state of perfection than has any other branch of her gracious Majesty's service. You will get some idea of the delights of Littlebeach from the following very brief notes made in my journal at the time :

Hate luggage. Ha! there are the soldiers bugling; how delightful it sounds: so mellow. Possibly that's the réveille; let me see-it is the réveille in the evening, isn't it? or the morning? Both perhaps. I will ask that old gentleman, doubtless an old inhabitant. "Can you inform me, sir, if that is the réveille ?" I repeat my question, "Can you inform me ?" and so forth. He cannot, because, as he explains, he is deaf. I apologisehe doesn't hear me. Deaf men shouldn't be allowed to go out on promenades when bugles are playing. Ah! lovely, boundless ocean! What's the time? Dear me, past nine I declare. In to supper or dinner-supper, for I'm very hungry, and then, after a mild cigar, to-bed.

'9'30.-In Mrs. Grigson's cottage. "Before supper, I should like to wash my hands. Some hot water?"

-"Is none." "Well then" (being in a good humour, and willing to rough it), "say cold water." 'Oh, nonsense, there must be cold water." -"There isn't." "Oh! I say, come, this won't do."-" Boots said he'd bring some, and he hasn't." "What do you mean by bring some? Why isn't it here? Why, I ask, isn't it here? Good gracious! isn't it enough to make a saint angry? I don't complain without cause, my dear." (This to my wife, who says I do.) "Well, where's the Boots?" I go off, fuming with rage, to find the Boots. My demeanour, I've been since afraid, was that of a man bound to take Boots' life. I meet Boots on the road; he is coming from the "Beach" laden with pails. "Where are you going to my pretty maid?'-I mean you-youBoots?" Words fail me, and I merely call him Boots. Somehow, meeting him seems to calm me down. His explanation, which I am afterwards totally at a loss to understand, does at that moment appear as satisfactory as it possibly can be. I tell him to be sure I have a bath brought to me in the morning. He promises faithfully. I tell him to order supper for me at the "Beach," and I'll come in. I remind him of my bath, and he says it shall be all right. Useful fellow,

Boots. I walk up to the beach; there is bugling again. That sound, I tell my wife, is the réveille. She wants to know what a réveille is. I tell her something on a bugle. She is very curious about it-women are-and I am a little annoyed at being unable to give a correct account of the réveille. It's sounded at night, it's the last call, to bring the soldiers in, or the first call in the morning to get them up; in fact, something of that kind.

11. We have had a very comfortable supper, a walk, and a cigar -that is, I have had a cigar on the promenade. We have listened to the sea; we couldn't help that, I imagine. We remarked, that it had quite a mesmeric effect, and we heard the soldiers' bugle in the distance. My wife said that that must be the réveille. I said, "Yes, it must;" but I confess that my mind was not by any means made up on the subject. But there is something so cheering and stirring about a bugle-call. My wife says it's lively to have soldiers about. I think so too.

'11 30.-Bed. Ah! don't want a blind to the window to shut out the sea. I open the window to give one last look at what sort of night it is. Ha! the bugle in the distance as fresh as ever: that must be the réveille. My wife says, "Don't bother!"

Next Day, 5 A.M.-"Eh! what's that? Oh, the sun. Draw the blind." "Can't-there's not one." One does want a blind. "Ha! there's the bugle. Pretty sound. Can't be the réveille." On second thoughts, this is the réveille.

'5'45 A.M.-I've dozed. Ah! how powerful the sun is. I know what I'll do: a towel shall be pinned up before the window. Where's a towel? Where are pins? My wife wishes I'd be quiet. Hang the pins! Catch me trying to stick up a blind again. More bugling. Two bugles, I fancy, at once. Hallo!

bugles springing up in different places. What between the sun and the bugles I shall never get to sleep again, and then I shall have a headache.

'6'15.-Bugles and shouting. Sun stronger than ever.

'6'45.-More shouting, less bugling. Sun simply scorching. '7.-Bugling, shouting, clashing of arms. I shall get up. My wife asks me 66 'Why don't I go and bathe ?" I answer, "Because I don't care about it." I'll take up my bath, however, and thenhalloa! no bath? Now this is too bad. I told Boots to be particular about my bath-a hip-bath, if he could get one, I said, or any bath. Oh! this won't do. I must go and find Boots. What a row these bugles are making! Don't like too much bugling. They can't want it.

720.-Met Boots coming from the "Beach" with a large tin pan: this is my bath. He says he quite forgot it; he thought I'd have bathed in the sea. Did he? he had no business to think. I am mollified, however, and he swears it shan't happen again. Bother those soldiers!

'7'45.-Bugles. A small review. Firing, shouting, clashing; headache.

'8.30.-Bugles ought to be abolished; they're a nuisance. There's nothing pretty or stirring in them whatever; except early in the morning, then they're stirring enough. I shall write to the colonel, if there is

one.

*

'Evening.-* * Yes, I must write to the colonel. Two soldiers, drunken rascals, insulted Mrs.Bingle on the promenade. "My dear Colonel-.: No, I'll wait till tomorrow. My wife insists upon my taking notice of it. Women are so impetuous. P'r'aps the case wasn't so bad as she makes out. My wife says I've no spirit. I say "Oh yes,

I have." She requires me to call on the colonel. I undertake to call on the colonel. In my own mind, I fancy that the colonel will take my charge as an insult to his corps, and call me out. Well, I won't fight. Oh! I must fight though. I wish my wife wasn't so impetuous. More bugles. Hang the bugles, and the soldiers, and the colonel!

'Day afterwards, 6 A.M.-My wife starts up; some one in the house. "Burglars?" I say "No." I must get up and see. Pooh! it's the bugles that awoke her out of a dream. There is some one in the

garden, though, digging. I ask him what he is doing there. He replies, "Digging." I could have told him that. I tell him to go-he's trespassing. He says he ain't; he adds that he's digging for Mrs. Grigson talking of Mrs. Grigson as if she was potatoes. It subsequently appears, from his always being all over the place for Mrs. Grigson, that he is in that lady's employ. Bugles, clash, holloaing, shouting, as usual.'

'Yes, sir,' said the witness, closing his book of extracts,' Littlebeach is all bugles, shouting, soldiers, and officious emissaries of Grigson.' What do the out-of-door public say to Littlebeach?

The witness stepped back to say that Mrs. Bingle could recommend Little beach for the children.'

Mrs. Bingle, who volunteered evidence for the benefit of the married female public out of and in doors, stated that Littlebeach would have been very pleasant but for the Miss Jonesses, who dressed so, just as if they were at Brighton, and were always flirting with the officers. You couldn't walk about anywhere but what you came upon a Miss Joness-there were three of them--and an officer. Disgraceful! The clergyman called on her soon after she came, and so did Mrs. Woberts, his wife. Mrs. Woberts was a very jealous wornan, they said, and Mr. Woberts was a very handsome man. She hates scandal; but you really could'nt go a step out of your house without being talked about The things that were Isaid of her behind her back-never mind how she heard them--were disgraceful. Mr. Bingle didn't care, of course not; it didn't matter to him. They might say anything of her they liked, and nasty drunken soldiers might insult her, and trample on her, and then get talking about her at night over the garden rails with the nursemaid. But she wouldn't go again to Littlebeach if she knew it.

This witness, who was in a very excited state, returned to say that she could recommend the place for children, who didn't know any better, and whose parents didn't care about their being neglected;

but it was the last place in the world for giddy nursemaids.

On being asked why, the witness promptly replied, on account of the soldiers, especially the bugler. It was the bugler, she had found out, who had talked over the garden palings.

MUTCHBEACH.

Mutchbeach your commissioner visited in person. A delightful place, also on the Sussex coast, beyond Rottingdean, at the foot of the Downs, and about ten miles from Brighton. Mutchbeach is the healthiest place in England. The dogs live up to any age. The labourers at the age of a hundred don't die; they simply walk away over the downs and disappear. The drainage of Mutchbeach is imperfect: this is a drawback. One of these days Mutchbeach will rival Brighton. Your commissioner will never go there then. Now the fashionable costume for the out-of-door public-if the public likes to adopt it-is flannel shirt, belt, no braces or waistcoat, light shooting-coat, and a slouching hat. No collars admitted. Mutchbeach possesses an inn. This is a favourite resort in the evening for labourers. The population of Mutchbeach is at the mercy of the butcher. He'kills' twice a week, and they are obliged to eat whatever he kills. Just for the sake of form, you are asked by your landlady in the morning what you will have; and merely to keep up this ancient ceremony, you say, 'Well, I should like some beef to-day for a change.' Of course you cannot have that, as to-day is Wednesday, and the butcher only kills on Thursday. You do not understand it - you never do-no one does, except, perhaps, the butcher, and you leave it to your landlady. Prawns are plentiful in Mutchbeach, shrimps scarce. There are, if I remember rightly, six lodging-houses-I mean there were; for since Mutchbeach has become a station, I dare say lodgings are in greater request. Mutchbeach is a Cinque-port, though you need not waste time in trying to find its name among the five. Mutch beach has its own council, its councillors, its prison-house, its court-house,