TOWN VERSUS COUNTRY.
(An Intercepted Letter.)
My dear Bob,—I have got your note, sympathising with me on my sad fate of being "tied to town" in August. Don't cry while you are in the wood. I can assure you that bricks and mortar are just as pleasant as green leaves. Not that we do not have the latter. Hyde Park is at its best, and Battersea is beautiful beyond compare. And mind you, my lad, it is unnecessary to stroll through either in the height of May Day fashion. The House is sitting, and the Irish Members are quite equal to keeping both sides on the move.
And at night we have plenty of gaiety, not only in the Strand, where The Shop Girl is as popular as ever, but at the Lyric too, where The Artist's Model is a pattern of prosperity. Then there are the halls of dazzling delight. Titania, at the Alhambra, and Faust, at the Empire, leave nothing to be desired save a lot more of them. So, my dear young friend do not condole before you have reason. London is going well and strong, and, while this happens, I can dispense with the jocular joys of Shrimpington-on-Sea.
Yours, cheerfully,
Dolly.
M'Carthy's Motto (the wish being father to the thought).—"Sic transit gloria Redmondi!"