And trust me, 'tis not an unpleasant thought,
To think that after rambling a whole day
Thro' scenes for pleasure's gay enchantment sought,
And as we're plodding home our 'weary way'.
Our dinner is not to be sought and bought

And cook'd and serv'd up after much delay;
But that the savoury steams at once impart
A rich repast, and welcome to the heart.

I therefore have a few things more to telf,
Ere I my boat and passengers forsake ;
We're safe arrived, and so far all is well,

But we must soon another voyage make :-
Time stands not still, but will at last compell
The fondest friends a sad farewell to take:
And pleasure's day soon passes when we roam,
'Till evening's chilly breezes whisper "home."

I left the passengers upon the beach

All hurrying on to gain their destin'd goal, Some winding up the steep ascent to reach

Devotion's shrine, and pour out all the soul
In prayer and hear their favourite preachers preach,
Others, the pangs of hunger to controul,

Went to take lunch-some parties hir'd a sail boat,
And some a four, and some a six oar'd whale boat.

It happen'd that among the many who

Came down to share the pleasures of the day, To sail, see, chat, and eat and drink, were two Respectable old housekeepers, and they

As if the engine's curious works to view

Sat down on that equivocal half way
That makes it doubtful whether you belong
To the full-fare, or the plebean throng.

Knowing the force of hunger and of thirst,
They deem'd it prudent to provide a lunch,
Not a small cruise of water and a crust,

But something more agreeable to munch,

Such as cold ham and fowl,-and lest the first

Should make them thirsty, they fill'd up with punch,

And Beamish's best porter-two quart bottles

Which o'er the packing raised their jetty throttles.

And underneath the seat whereon they sat

They thought the basket would have snug remained Unseen, untouch'd ;-and so it would, but that

An arch young devil soon the secret gain'd,

And while the two poor creatures were in chat

Coax'd out the corks, and half the beverage drain'd,
And with salt water made the rest a mixture
Not fit exactly for a stomach fixture.

And so the sequel prov'd-for never were
Two wretched sea sick women so unwell,
As for some moments this unhappy pair!
But all the consequences which befell
These two poor creatures I must here declare
My timid modest inuse would blush to tell-
Suffice it that they suffered each commotion
By landsfolk felt-when first upon the ocean.

One hurried on to see his darling spouse,

Praying, poor man! that he may find her better,

But entering unexpectedly, the house

Just at the door en dishabille he met her

Adieu-ing out a gentleman! A mouse

Ne'er seem'd so frighten'd when a cat beset her;

But soon composed-she answer'd his quick query"My dear, 'twas only the apothecary!"

Another went to see his only child

:

Once fair and beautiful-whose early dawn
Of youth was loveliness itself-and smil'd
Purple with health and sportive as a fawn
She bounded on, so playful and so wild,
Yet innocent, as lamb upon the lawn ;
And the sweet bud, unfolding every hour,
Gave fairest promise of a beauteous flower.

But in the gay and blooming spring of youth
Came fell consumption's cold and nipping blast,
And pierc'd her deadly as the adder's tooth,—

And the sweet blossom droop'd and wither'd fast,
Yet smiling as an angel-for in sooth

Her few short years in innocence were pass'd;
And her pure spirit trembled not with fear,
Tho' life's last ling'ring moments were so near.

And yet she knew not she was dying-for
She talk'd of pleasures, and of days to come,
And purchasing new dresses and she bore

Decay as so unconscious of its doom,

That when the eye that watch'd her would swim o'er

At the heart sick'ning thought, that in the tomb
So soon she must be laid-she'd gaze and sigh,
And ask the cause, alas! and wonder why.

Oh! these are fearful moments when we bend
O'er the departing spirit-as serene

It quits its mortal mansion, to attend

Death's summons and we think on what has been

Its past career-its future-and the end

Of life's sad pilgrimage-and the last scene

'That ends this strange eventful history'

When heav'n appears-or hell's no more 'a mystery!'

But hark! we hear the bugle's merry note

Of invitation sound along the shore-
And the smoak's pitchy volume shews the boat
Prepar'd to cut the briny wave once more,
And with some thirty passengers afloat,

Anxious the harbour's beauty to explore,

She turns, and 'off she goes'-and kissing hand,
The Captain smiles adieu to all on land.

'Merrily goes the bark,' and merrily

Go all within her: 'tis a pleasant trip
To sail 'twixt Camden and Carlisle, and see
These ancient centinels upon their steep
And cannon'd battlements. There may they be
For ever undisturb'd by hostile ship;
Nor pour their thunders forth-save to display
A Viceroy's visit, or a King's birth day.

Now from the lofty heights quick hurrying down

In fashion's fantasies the groups draw near,

And on the burning beach the crowded town

Pours forth its beauteous maids, whose eyes appear

Sparkling like diamonds in a royal crown,

Bright, brilliant, dazzling.—Suddenly we hear

Music's soft swelling strains and to the quay

Th' attractive sounds soon hurry us away.

Where is the shady walk, the sweet retreat

For invalids to breathe the balmy air, Unhurt by cold, or unopprest by heat?

Alas! no such retreat can we find there.

Where are its rural rides with cottage neat

O'erspread with roses or sweet woodbine? where

Its' gardens'' crescents,' 'buildings,' 'squares,' and 'places,' Its evening theatre, and morning races?

Where are its spacious taverns and hotels,

Where rank may rest, and wealth its wants supply ? Where is its boarding house, which both excells

For comfort, quiet and society?

Where are its rooms' where am'rous beaux and belles
May ogle, waltz, quadrille, make love and sigh?
Where are its splendid banquets' groaning tables→→→→
And where, even where its coach houses and stables ?

Where are its libraries for books and news,
Where invalids love both to be perusing?
Where are its exhibitions' various views,

To connoisseurs and idlers so amusing?

Where are its daily auctions-where we lose

Such heavy sums, from want of time for choosing?

Where are the thousand other gay attractions

That move mankind, and influence our actions?

Supply these wants which in the sister isle

At every Spa and sea port are supplied;
Hang out the gay allurements and beguile
The splendid votaries of wealth and pride:
Let the sweet sparkling eye of pleasure smile→
Give room-'tis sadly wanted but denied!
Where can the noble stranger find a place?

Where can you lodge "his Lordship" or "her Grace?"

Supply these wants- the Commoner and Peer
Will then delight to seek thy happy shore;
Supply these wants-and each succeeding year
The tide of wealth, increasing more and more,
Will roll its treasures in,-and we shall hear
Of those enchantments mankind so adore.
Yes I repeat-these various wants supply-
And then shall Cove with Cheltenham proudly vie.

Shame on its rich proprietor! oh! shame

Who draws the life blood from its flowing veins, Without a feeling for the weighty claim,

It has upon him for his yearly drains!

Why builds he not one 'house' at least, 'to fame,' Why not promote his own and others' gains? Why ask a generous tenantry to spare

Their all for him and for his future heir?

Three lives and one and twenty years! it sounds
Like an eternity!-But in the grave

The three poor mortals must be laid-and bounds
Set to their earthly tenures. Still we have
Twenty-one years! Yet these will fly their rounds
Scarcely without perception. Who'd conceive
That thirty years have nearly pass'd away
Since France invaded us in Bantry Bay?

But I must quit the subject and the place;
I've giv'n a hint, let others profit by it.
I've shewn the way its treasures to increase,
'Tis surely worth the trying-let them try it.

I cannot now say more. The little space