If he knew of any other watering place of which as much might be said, he would mention it--but he don't.
NOTES FROM CHICAGO.
"In the spring a young man's fancies lightly turn to thoughts of Love," and Picnics--and this is the time for them; consequently, the attention of the Western public is turned thoroughly and religiously to what may be considered as one of the most important results of civilization and refinement. We (the Western public) regard picnics as highly advantageous to health and beauty, promoting social sympathy and high-toned alimentiveness, advancing the interests of the community and the ultimate welfare of the nation. In the first place, they are the means, working indirectly, but surely, of encouraging the domestic virtues and affections, the peace and harmony of families, because on these festive occasions, the lunch is the most striking and attractive feature, and, in order to obtain this in its highest perfection, the culinary abilities of the lady participants are necessarily called into action--those talents which have fallen somewhat into disrepute, notwithstanding Professor BLOT'S magnanimous efforts to restore the glories of the once honored culinary art. Therefore a picnic may be considered as a great moral agency in promoting domestic happiness; for what is so likely to touch the heart and arouse the slumbering sensibility of a husband and father, as a roast of beef done to a charm, or an omelette soufflée presenting just that sublime tint of yellowness which can only be attained by means of the most delicate refinement and discrimination? No other attention, however flattering, is so soon recognised, or gratefully appreciated.
After one of these innocent festivals has been fully decided upon, then we always select a day when gathering clouds predict, most unmistakeably, a coming storm, because, what would a picnic be without some excitement of this kind? A pudding minus the sauce, a sandwich without the mustard, a joke without the point. What pleasure could there be in a dry picnic? Ladies never appear to such excellent advantage, never are so utterly bewitching, as when, with light summer dresses bedraggled and dirty, they cling helplessly to their protectors, or run in frantic haste to some place of shelter--for it is only when a woman (or a gentle bovine) runs, that the poetry of motion is fully realized. Then the gentlemen! Under what circumstances are they ever so chivalric as during a pouring rain, when, wet to the skin, they assist the faintly-shrieking beauties over the mud puddles, and hold umbrellas tenderly above chignons and uncrimping crimps! To be sure they do not often act as Sir WALTER RALEIGH did, but then they do not wear velvet cloaks, and what would be the wit of throwing a piece of broadcloth or white linen into the mud?
We have champagne picnics, lemonade and cold water picnics, and some, which, although they cannot be classed under the head of hot water, still manage, before they are through, to get all the participants into it. We have widows' and widowers' picnics, a kind of reunion for the encouragement of mutual consolation, where, meandering through green fields and under nodding boughs, they can talk or muse upon the virtues of the "dear departed," and the probable merits of the "coming man," or woman.
Then the anti-matrimonials have theirs, too, always exceedingly select, where the men look frightened, and the women indignant, and which partakes somewhat of the character of a Methodist prayer-meeting, the gentlemen all clinging to each other as if for protection, evidently in bodily fear of another Sabine expedition, with the order of the programme, however, a little reversed in regard to the two sexes. The Sanitary department also indulges in a little treat of this kind, and in such a case, it becomes really a duty. After guarding the city's health for so long a time, after sternly following up Scarlet-fevers, Small-poxes, and Ship-plagues, and driving them forth from their chosen haunts, it certainly needs to look after its own constitution a little, and sharpen, by country airs and odors, the powers probably deteriorated amid the noxious vapors of city alleys and by-ways.
The Teachers' Institute, too, looking at the thing physiologically, psychologically, and phrenologically, after mature deliberation, conclude to descend to a little harmless amusement, contriving, however, to mingle some instructive elements with the frivolous ones that less enlightened spirits delight in. For instance, the flowers, that are truly the "alphabet of angels" to the simple souls that love the violets and daisies for their own sweet sakes, offer a very different alphabet to the "Schoolma'ams" and Professors. They are no longer flowers, but specimens, each bud and blossom pleading in vain for life, as ruthless fingers coolly dissect them to discover whether they are poly or mollyandria. And what an ignoramus you must be, if you do not know that a balloon-vine is a Cardiospernum Halicactum. The "feast" on these occasions is that "of reason" alone, encyclopedias and dictionaries being all the nourishment required, although a stray bottle here and there might hint at "the flow" of a little something beside "soul."
Then there are the Good Templars' picnics, where "water, cold water for me, for me," is supposed to be the sentiment of every heart, mixing the beverage sometimes, however, with a little innocent tea, or coffee; and the Masonic festivals, where pretty white aprons and silver fringes, shining amid green dells and vales, present quite a picturesque and imposing appearance; and the Fenians, looking sometimes greener than the haunts they are seeking.
Then every distinct and individual Sunday-school in the city has a picnic, which it would be well to attend, if you are anxious to see the diversities and eccentricities of youthful appetites fearfully illustrated.--When the loaves and fishes were distributed, there could not have been many growing boys present.--And beside these, the family picnics, most cosy little affairs, represented by one big fat man, one delicate-faced woman, one maiden-aunt, four graduated boys, and five graduated girls, all piled into one big fat carriage, drawn by two big fat horses. But it is the Germans who take the palm, and here language fails, though beer doesn't.