The Start. 2)7 



before me, with its hundreds of pretty little sails. I 

 repeated to myself these favorite lines as I stood en- 

 tranced : 



" The Bridegroom Sea is toying "with the shore, 

 His wedded bride ; and in the fulness of his marriage joy- 

 He decorates her tawny brow with shells, 

 Retires a space to see how fair she looks, 

 Then proud runs up to kiss her." 



That is what old ocean was doing that happy morn 

 ing. I saw him at it, and I felt that if all created 

 beings had one mouth I should like to kiss them too. 



All seated ! The Queen Dowager next the coach- 

 man, and I at her side. The horn sounds, the crowd 

 cheers, and we are off. A mile or two are traversed 

 and there is a unanimous verdict upon one point — this 

 suits us ! Finer than we had dreamt ! As we pass 

 the pretty villas embossed in flowers and vines and all 

 that makes England the home of happy homes, there 

 comes the sound of increasing exclamations. How 

 pretty ! Oh, how beautiful ! See, see, the roses ! oh 

 the roses! Look at that lawn ! How lovely! Enchant- 

 ing ! entrancing ! superb ! exquisite ! Oh, I never saw 

 anything like this in all my life ! And then the hum 

 of song — La-Zrt'-LA-LA, Ra-da-^^-DUM ! Yes, it is all 

 true, all we dreamt or imagined, and beyond* it. And 

 so on we go through Brighton and up the hills to the 

 famous Weald of Sussex. 



