And filled to flood their hope's high tide.
Now all is hushed,—save the sad voice
Of admiration and regret,
Which, spite of faction's spleenful noise,
Ne'er failed stout son of England yet!
He took a house in Hampshire. Why? Because he said he liked to visit his old Hants.
A FEELING PROTEST.
Sir,—I have recently seen letters and paragraphs in various newspapers instigating travellers going abroad to choose the Folkestone and Boulogne route instead of going viâ Dover and Calais. I forget what particular reasons are given for advocating this substitution, nor do I care what they are or what they may be. Why? Because, first, undeniably viâ Dover to Calais is the shortest route, and to those of Britannias's sons and daughters—gallant islanders all—who detest the sea as much as does the humble individual who now addresses you, the saving of twenty minutes or half an hour, or in some instances it may be even more, of the sea-passage would be well worth any extra expense (if extra expense there be, which, an' I remember rightly, is not the case), especially when aboard such steam-vessels as are now provided; though, be the steam-vessels what they may, there is still in one and all of them that peculiar flavour and motion about which I would rather not speak, or even think, lest I should be unable to finish this important letter.