I went into Bumpus's stable at the stated
hour next morning; entered suddenly, and the
first thing I got was a tremendous box on the
ear from my friend's foot. He was legs up, and
astraddle, head down, balanced on the point of
a revolving pyramid, and going round like a
great bone teetotum. In a moment he flew
off his peg, and came round on his feet with a
somerset to beg my pardon, and regret that he
hadn't eyes in his boots. "It's a mercy," says I,
"that you've left eyes in my head."  "Now,"
says he, "what'll you have? Take a Turnover.
Here's my Director of Exercises, the
Herr Gymnast Umgedreht, at your service and
mine. What'll you take? A Free Exercise
for one, or some light little combined exercise
for two. Carrying Exercise, if you like—
provided you'll carry me."

"Von shingle exercise, dear sir," says
Herr Umg——. "Dis shentlemans will take one
balancing position so, mid dis leg up so, stand
on von leg, so. Now on von leg, tiptoe—
stand! Vare good; balance mid arms, before
falling into fundamental position—ah! you are
down on your broad back. Good. Stand not
up. Here is von goot exercise to lie on back
and rise widout using de hands. You cannot.
Well den, see how I get you up. I stride over
your neck, I grasp your legs. Now grasp you
my legs. Now wheel so. You are heavy, but
I am strong. Wheel u—u—ugh, round you
go, and now I have you on my shoulder. Do
I totter?  No. You shall stand upon my head
and waggle, and I will so balance that you shall
not be able to tumble. Or this you shall do to
me. See." The fellow hooked one of his feet
in my neck, stuck the other against my knee,
and threw himself out afloat in the air at
right angles to my body. Then down he came
on his legs again, and begged that I would do
the same by him. Before I could answer him,
he was hoisting me over his shoulders,
preparatory to spinning me like a teetotum, heels
upwards.

"Put me down," I roared. Down I was in
an instant, and Meinherr was again flying
over my head, to alight, grinning like a
monkey, on the back of the wooden machine
they call a Vaulting Horse. What appeared
to me was, that this maniac seized upon
me as if I were a new gymnastic property, to
be lifted and jumped about. In half a minute
he had got me in the air, seated on both his
hands, and had hurled me—well, I am happy
to say that he hurled me upon the toe
of Bumpus, who had just come down fron
the Rack, and was laughing demoniacally as
he danced up and down before me. "Enough,'
I remarked, by way of apology to him. "If
ever you catch me taking a turn over to
your stable again, you and that fellow may play
shuttlecock with me for the rest of your existence."
I went home, and have set down what
you see here. There's only one conclusion I
could come to, which is to have no more of
this nonsense. The thing is overdone. Bumpus
overdoes it. Boating, cricketing, and hunting
men overdo it. Young fellows at college overdo
it and some of them get injured for life. I
won't do it again.

HOLIDAY ROMANCE.

BY CHARLES DICKENS.

IN FOUR PARTS.

PART II.

ROMANCE. PROM THE PEN OF MISS ALICE
RAINBIRD.*

* Aged Seven.

THERE was once a King, and he had a Queen;
and he was the manliest of his sex, and she was
the loveliest of hers. The King was, in his
private profession, Under Government. The
Queen's father had been a medical man out of
town.

They had nineteen children, and were always
having more. Seventeen of these children took
care of the baby, and Alicia, the eldest, took care
of them all. Their ages varied from seven years
to seven months.

Let us now resume our story.

One day the King was going to the Office,
when he stopped at the fishmonger's to buy
a pound and a half of salmon not too near the
tail, which the Queen (who was a careful
housekeeper) had requested him to send home.
Mr. Pickles, the fishmonger, said, "Certainly,
sir, is there any other article, good morning."

The King went on towards the Office in a
melancholy mood, for Quarter Day was such a
long way off, and several of the dear children
were growing out of their clothes. He had not
proceeded far, when Mr. Pickles's errand boy
came running after him, and said, "Sir, you
didn't notice the old lady in our shop."

"What old lady?" inquired the King. "I
saw none."

Now, the King had not seen any old lady,
because this old lady had been invisible to him,
though visible to Mr. Pickles's boy. Probably
because he messed and splashed the water
about to that degree, and flopped the pairs of
soles down in that violent manner, that, if she
had not been visible to him, he would have
spoilt her clothes.

Just then the old lady came trotting up.
She was dressed in shot-silk of the richest
quality, smelling of dried lavender.

"King Watkins the First, I believe?" said
the old lady.

"Watkins," replied the King, "is my
name."

"Papa, if I am not mistaken, of the beautiful
Princess Alicia?" said the old lady.

"And of eighteen other darlings," replied
the King.

"Listen. You are going to the Office," said
the old lady.

It instantly flashed upon the King that she
must be a Fairy, or how could she know that?

"You are right," said the old lady, answering
his thoughts, "I am the Good Fairy