To clutch in frenzy at a man of straw,
And cheer a heart with the hand's amity,
That in the way of business would stab it—
Or is it only an absurd bad habit?
A PUFF AND A BLOW.
Should tropical weather continue, let dusted, wooden-pavemented, sore throated, weary Londoner, take train Sunday Morning 11 a.m. Victoria, or rather let train take him, right away to Dover, where he will at once step on board the Calais-Douvres, and get one hour and a quarter's worth of ozone into his system. Then at 2.15 he will land at Calais, when, free of baggage, wraps, and all such-like impedimenta, he will walk into the buffet of the hotel, and having made his choice from many excellent things there set before him, he will proceed to walk into his déjeuner à la fourchette, for which meal he will have ample time, seeing that the Calais-Douvres does not start on its return voyage till 3.45. After déjeuner comes the fourchette, or "fork out," which, if the voyageur be wisely content with the ordinaire, will amount to a very moderate sum. Then, exclaiming with the ancient pirate of bye-gone nautical melodrama, "Once aboard the lugger and we are free," he will saunter, leisurely, with cigar, pipe, or cigarette, according to the taste and fancy of the smoker, down to the boat. There, if he be wise and wary, he will at once re-embark, in order to secure a comfortable arm-chair in a good position, long before any trains bearing hot and dusty travellers from Belgium or Paris shall appear. There he can sit, smoking calmly under a cool sunshade, placidly watching the shooting of the luggage, which is unattended by any danger, each box going off with a very slight noise, and he can calmly wonder at the anxiety of the passengers. Then, farewell France, welcome back to the shores of Old England, and the adventurous Briton will find himself landed at Victoria Terminus by 7.15 or it may be 7.20, with another ozonised appetite, ready for a dinner chez lui,—or chez anybody who'll give him one,—and afterwards, sufficiently tired, neither fagged nor weary, he will be certain of a good sleep at an early hour, and sure to wake in the morning all the better and fresher for his outing and his inn-ing.
[N. B.—Fine weather and gentle breeze taken for granted.]