AN OFF CHANCE. 



The breakfast table in No. 2 private room of the 

 Queen's Hotel, Beachington-on-Sea, was tempt- 

 ingly spread. A grand lobster, evidently not 

 long a stranger to his ocean home, contrasted 

 with the snowy tablecloth and the crisp green 

 parsley, which set off his vividly red hue ; the 

 dehcate pink of a dish of big prawns ; the golden 

 yolks of the poached eggs on the perfectly 

 grilled ham gratified the eye and gave promise 

 of other gratifications to come ; while a couple of 

 entree dishes, whose silver covers were not 

 opened, looked as if they had something appetiz- 

 ing beneath. Altogether the table was more 

 like that of a well-appointed country house than 

 an hotel, except that before the windows the 

 sea sparkled on the other side of the broad 

 roadway and esplanade ; a pier ran out a long 

 way into the water ; and from the front of the 

 building cries of " Card or London paper, sir? " 

 from a host of boys, together with the aspect of 

 some of the men who walked or drove along by 



