KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



359 



But the times have changed ; though we have 

 not. Let us therefore pass on. 



To tell our readers what is to he done in July, 

 were idle. They must, however, live out of doors. 

 That is needful. They must also spring from 

 their couch early ; for this is the month to see 



The eyelids of the morning first awake ; 

 The dews fast disappearing from the grass, — 

 The sun rise o'er the mountains ; and the trees, 

 Moveless, stretching throughout the blue of 



Heaven 

 Exuberantly green. 



Whilst gazing with rapture on this lovely 

 picture, — 



Up from the coppice, on exalting wing, 



Mounts the gay sky-lark through the clouds of 



dawn, — • 



The clouds, whose snow-white canopy is spread 

 Athwart, yet hiding not, at intervals, 

 The azure beauty of the summer sky ; 

 And at far distance heard, a bodiless note 

 Pours down, as if from cherub stray 'd from 



Heaven. 



After this morning hymn, and a ramble through 

 the fields — your locks heavy with dew, you may 

 come home to breakfast with a real appetite. Crisp 

 bacon ("streaky") nicely toasted, new-laid eggs, 

 ham, cresses, cold fowl, tongue, or broiled 

 salmon— these delectabilities, fraternising with 

 aromatic coffee, will then descend with a relish. 

 And how you will astonish those (naughty) mem- 

 bers of the family, who, when you come in, are 

 just creeping down stairs with their eyes 

 scarcely pulled open, — yawning as if they had 

 only slept eight hours ! Oh, if we could but pre- 

 vail upon people to go out before breakfast ! But 

 we can't. We hate to see pale, cadaverous counte- 

 nances, sitting at the early festive board. It is 

 unnatural, though (malheureusement) it is 

 " fashionable." But the printer is at our elbow, 

 so we must gallop on. 



Everybody will soon be off somewhere. The 

 nets are already spread by the boarding-house 

 bearded tabbies at our watering-places. The Cape 

 wines and coloring mixtures are ordered in; and 

 the thick (extra thick) half-pint decanters are 

 ordered out. Contracts (signed " A— hem !" at 

 the foot) are entered into with the butchers for 

 "first-rate" meat; and duplicate keys are in 

 readiness for the "convenience" of kind hosts and 

 their gentle guests. As " extras " are in some 

 places "said" not to be charged, economy is 

 busily devising how to make double profit by every 

 transaction. We all know that when people are 

 " selling off at a fearful and awful sacrifice," the 

 goods formerly two guineas are then disposed of 

 for four— because the premises must be cleared.'' 

 This rule is carried out at our watering-places to 

 " a close shaving." In justice let us say, that the 

 keepers of these places and their visitor's are well 

 matched. Each party tries, sleeping and waking, 

 to " do " the other. 



Nor must we fail to do justice to the Marine 

 Hotel-keepers at the sea-side. " Fine old crusted 

 port (bees'-wing)" has been duly ordered in for 

 the City clerks and West End gents. Being 

 " manufactured purposely " (in London), and an 



eye kept on it to prove its " vintage," it can be 

 "well recommended." The usual "superior 

 wine," too, is in readiness for those who (after 

 dinner) grumble (as usual) about the quality not 

 being " quite the thing." The landlords are 

 " well up " on this point—" The Doctor," or 

 flavoring bottle, being ready for use at a moment's 

 notice. Sherries Q;a/e and brown), and Madeiras, 

 Bucellas, Hock, &c. — all these will be found "care- 

 fully prepared " for the clerks and gents.* We 

 mention this as an act of duty. As for the 

 Cognac — that too is " fine, and pale." We say 

 nothing about the bilious sand-shoes, and water- 

 ing-place gear, peculiar to these curious specimens 

 of humanity. Neither do we intend to be ill- 

 natured about the " shrouds," and other bodily 

 disfigurements worn by our women, who strive to 

 outvie each other in deformity at the sea-side. 

 These stereotyped follies are not to be eradicated. 

 Women go out "to be seen." Seen they are, and 

 (when seen) never to be forgotten I 



Our steamboats and railways are (whilst we 

 write) in great request; as are also beer, tobacco, 

 and gin. Puff! puff! puff 1 is the order of the 

 day — and night ; whilst the air on our public 

 rivers and highways is tainted, as usual, with the 

 smoke of highly-dried coarse cabbage leaves. All 

 is excitement — eating, drinking, rioting, and 

 smoking being in " seasonable " excess. It is sad 

 to look upon the pale, sickly countenances of the 

 various performers. 



Now, too, do Moses, Hyam, Doudney, and 

 other riggers-out of the summer " gents," come 



* City Clerks, and West End Gents, are names 

 given to the "fast men" on 'Change, and in 

 public offices eastward ; and to certain clerks, and 

 other " fast men," westward of London. The 

 former rejoice in " remarkable " shirts and breast- 

 pins, gigantic, weighty imitation-gold chains, shiny 

 boots, rainbow-tinted "once -rounders," cool ties, 

 short-cut shooting coats, massive fancy imitation- 

 gold rings on each hand, cigars, enormously-long 

 meerschaum pipes, and never-ending supplies of 

 tobacco. They also look just as if they had 

 " stepped out of a band-box," and are scented a la 

 civet cat. They talk much about their judgment 

 in " fine wines," and consider themselves superior 

 to all the world. The " West End gents " try to 

 copy all the above — but they lag far behind. How- 

 ever, they make up for all deficiencies by heavy 

 heads of matted hair, cut square (trimmed just 

 like the foliage of French trees) ; and they may be 

 seen at all corners of the streets (after business 

 hours), with pipes and cigars stuck in the corners 

 of their mouths. They mount sticks, too, and 

 often have a "spy-glass" grooved between their 

 nose and eyes — right and left alternately. They 

 are as "great" in their way, during summer and 

 autumn, as the "City Clerks," and feel equally 

 important. Both classes love ardent spirits, and 

 are not to be put down. The " cut " of the figure 

 is unmistakeable — the same " outfitters " equip- 

 ping the lot. Their ideas of " fun " are original, 

 — noise being the chief element." — Such is the 

 "popular description " given of the parties to whom 

 we refer. It is a good-natured sketch, at which 

 they must laugh as heartily as we have done. It 

 is, alas ! strictly true to Nature, — their nature at 

 least ! They are bike nobody but themselves. 



