its home-made origin most unmistakably. It
was composed of brown wicker, and it was
packed with straw. We had forgotten to
provide ourselves with a champagne opener, and,
as Mr. Gandy wouldn't hear of knocking the
tops of the bottles off, we were fain to allow
George to operate upon the wines with an
instrument which he usually employed to pick out
stones from the horses' feet. We had omitted
to bring champagne glasses, and were obliged
to drink the bubbling wine out of tumblers,
which was quite as agreeable to ourselves, but
may have looked like pale ale to our neighbours.
A leg of lamb, with salad and mint
sauce, was substantial, but it rather paled its
elegance beside fowls tied up with white
ribbon, Yorkshire pies, and decorated lobsters.
We were very quiet at lunch, and I am sure no
one could have said that we were other than
most genteel and respectable people, if George
had not insisted upon thumbing his cold lamb,
instead of eating it from a plate. George was
incorrigible. He sat down upon the hamper, and
smoked a short clay pipe under our very noses,
and, what was worse, under the very noses of
the drags. He leant familiarly over the side of
the pheeayton, and proposed that we should get
up a sweep among ourselves, "just to give an
interest to it, like;" a proposal which I need not
say was indignantly rejected.

Every time the bell rang we stood up in the
pheeayton, but could see nothing except the
backs of the people on the drags immediately
before us. Nevertheless, we preserved our
gentility to the last, which was the hour of six,
when George, with the aid of many volunteer
ostlers, hauled us out from the mass of vehicles
in which we were imbedded, and put us on the
road. The horses were put to, George mounted
the box, and away we went homewards.

It was not long before we were assailed with
a shower of chaff and peas. George was commanded
for the hundredth time to come out of
his hat. Miss Croucher was asked for a lock of
her hair, and frequent inquiries were made of
Mr. Gandy and myself if we didn't feel very well.
This last being a sarcastic allusion to the rigid
gentility of our behaviour. Miss Croucher laughed
outright at a joke once, and was severely reproved
by Mrs. Gandy. She didn't laugh
again for two miles, no more did I, and the consequence
was that the jokers were more severe
upon us than ever. " Was we so werry ill?"
"Would we take a drop of summut to cheer us
up?" " Had we lost heavy on Breadalbane, or
what was it.?" And when a van fell behind,
and caught us up again, the people cried, " Slap
bang! here we are again!" and sang, " So jolly,
so jolly, oh!" in mockery. Even the Mossoos,
elated with the success of Gladiateur, chaffed
us in broken English. Dreading three more
hours of this, I came to a secret understanding
with Miss Croucher. It was, that we were to
smile privately at our assailants, with the view
of conciliating them. This we did most elaborately,
grinning like Cheshire cats at all the
jokes, and playfully, in a kitten-like way, putting
up our paws to ward off the sportive peas. We
winked also, and nodded our heads significantly,
as much as to say, " There's a stiff-backed old
gal here who won't allow us to lark; but we're
the right sort, so don't be too hard upon us."
This had some effect in mitigating the violence
of the dead set that was everywhere made
against us, and we managed to reach Clapham
without coming in contact with either flour or
oranges.

Miss Croucher was bound, in courtesy, to
say that she had never spent a pleasanter day in
her life; and so was I; but we nudged each
other and exchanged winks as we said so; and,
escorting Miss Croucher home afterwards, I
told her how I had once gone to the Derby in a
van, and enjoyed myself very much; and Miss
Croucher was delighted with the narration, and
said if I would go that way next year, she would
put on a thick veil and accompany me on the
sly.

OLD BLUES ADRIFT.

WHEN the Sylph, or Waterman No. 1, takes
you down the river, do not imagine that the
magnificent frontage of Greenwich Hospital—
more worthy of the name of a palace than most
buildings in England usually known by that designation
—exhibits the windows of the old seamen's
rooms. The officials can tell you better
than that. Bounded on the west by the temple
of whitebait called the Ship, and on the east by
the other temple of whitebait called the Trafalgar,
the façade is so managed that the nicest
bits fall to the lot of those who, really or professedly,
look after the old men. Passing a
piece of garden ground, we come to the north-
westernmost of four clusters or quarters of building,
named after four sovereigns who mainly
supplied the funds for erecting them. This is
King Charles's Quarter, the whole river frontage
of which is given up to the governor and
lieutenant-governor—lucky fellows! Then comes a
beautiful open quadrangle, the view of which is
bounded southward by the Naval Schools and
the Observatory. Then another cluster called
Queen Anne's Quarter, the frontage of which is
in like manner given up wholly to officials. The
south frontages of both of these clusters tell the
same story—official; while the wards of the old
salts occupy the lateral portions. Then, still
further south, are the other two clusters known
as King William's and Queen Mary's Quarters;
one containing the Painted Hall, the other the
Chapel; and each comprising officials' apartments,
pensioners' wards, a kitchen, and a
dining-hall. Then, round about in other places
are the infirmary, the helpless ward, the brewery,
the bakery, the gas-works, and other departments.
And, as a background to the whole, is
the Royal Naval Schools, with the play and
drill-grounds, the ship in which the boys play
at shrouds and maintops, and the residences
and pleasant gardens of the officials. View it
whence we may—east, west, north, or south—