LEGEND OF TILLY WINN and DURDLE D'OR.
The winsome Lady Matilda Winn,
Was a-ris-to-crati-cal-ly thin,
With dove-like eyes. Her golden hair
Was circled with gems so rich and rare.
White and pink was the healthy skin
Of the winsome Lady Matilda Winn.
The Lord of Lulworth, a somnolent Earl,
Gave his moustache an extra curl
As he woke in the morn, and ope'd his eye,
A passing fair lady was passing by!
Then he swore to himself, "Through thick and thin,
I'll win the Lady Matilda Winn."
The Lord of Lulworth, that somnolent peer,
Gained the young lady's father's ear,
Who said, "My Tilly must me obey.
One week to-morrow shall be the day
When Lulworth's Earl shall become our kin,
By wedding my daughter! my Tilly Winn!"
Matilda Winn made signs from shore
To her pirate lover, bold Durdle d'Or.
Who came at night with ladder of rope,
For Tilda Winn had agreed to elope.
"We're privately married, so 'tis no sin,"
Quoth the beautiful Lady Matilda Winn.
But the somnolent Earl and the testy Lord
Pursued and caught, ere they got aboard
The pirate vessel, the lovers twain,
Who leapt from the boat! And ne'er again,
When past and gone was the tempest's din,
Were seen Durdle D'or and his Tilly Winn.
There is as pleasant a little hostelrie in Lulworth Cove as is to be found anywhere in a quiet sort of way, with lunch made and provided, ready for all comers, be they never so plentiful. Mind always on this coast command the lobster, he is toujours à vos ordres. Those who can be content with the minimum of variety in the way of amusement, and with the maximum of health will assuredly find it here, where they can live the life of a sort of luxurious Robinson Crusoe—bathing, fishing, walking—five or six miles from the nearest railway station, and visited occasionally by steamboats, which cannot come in quite close to shore, bringing passengers, from whom tidings may be obtained of what is going on in the outer world.
Note—Of music on board.—Almost every steamboat is accompanied by a couple of instrumentalists—a harpist and a violinist. These duettists do uncommonly well pecuniarily, and musically too, considering the difficulties presented by the sea passages. One of their more favourite performances is the intermezzo from the Rusticana. Returning from Swanage the wind rather interferes with the strings by attempting to unfasten the music paper. But the violinist, well on the alert, has foreseen the probability arising of there being "three sheets to the wind," and has nailed his colours to the mast, that is, has tied the music-paper firmly on to the stand. Still, in order to grapple with rude Boreas, he has to drop a few bars of his part in the intermezzo, a proceeding that causes no sort of inconvenience to the harpist, who ingeniously "slows off," and adapts time and tune to the exceptional situation, until the wind, being out of breath with its mischievous exertions, allows the fiddle-strings to resume their part in the concert, and kindly permits the two musicians to finish triumphantly. Their gallant efforts are well rewarded, and the musical pilgrims collect largesse in a scallop-shell. Back again to P'm'th.