"spacious corridor," &tc., says the guide-book,
of course, in a delirium of rapture. It is
certainly well placed, as it wer , on the sea-shore,
with pleasant grounds about it, where the duke
and the duke's family, of course, wandered and
saw company. Still, with all these older glories
and distinguished memories, it is what Porthos
calls rather a "shy" place. Much violence has
been done to the duke's state-rooms, each of
which has been carved up and partitioned, off
into half a dozen smaller ones, and, as Aramis
remarks, the walls can't be very thick, when
hear your neighbour turning in his bed.
In the crounds, languid croquet goes on all day
long; in the great reception-room a good deal
of reading newspapers, and working, and very
courageous public performing on the piano goes
on. There are infinitely more ladies than men,
and the men, Porthos says again, are " a shy
lot"— not in bearing, certainly, but after the
technical and accepted meaning. Nothing is
more amusing, and profitable, too, than to
study a little human nature at these places— at
dinner especially. To see the pride and festive
airs which families— stout mamma, two daughters,
and amiable though helpless parent— all
assume. They are unused to the life, and wish
again and again "that these tables d'hôte, as
abroad, took more root in benighted England."
A glib man beside them, whose freedom seems
charming, cordially agrees, lie quite charms
mamma, especially when he hectors the waiters.
He is most likely a clerk, or a " commercial
gent." So, too, the smart young man who sits
at the head of the table, and from a long
residence of more than three weeks, affects to be
"President." He consults thoughtfully and
"knowingly" with the head waiter, and brings
a blush of shame to a bushy-whiskered newly
married clergyman, of a very retiring disposition
for all his bushy whiskers, by calling on
him publicly for grace before meat.

IV. OUR STAGE.

Our little town is theatrical in the season
when the visitors come; and up a narrow little
street, or lane, two theatres, exactly opposite,
flaunt defiance at each other like— like two
painted and angry dames. One is the THEATRE
ROYAL, and, by a courtesy that obtains everywhere,
properly takes the pas of all others.
The HEIR APPARENT is the other. The first is
under a sort of joint captaincy— the "management"
of Mr. RIDLEY RYDER, and the " direction"
of Miss KATHLEEN LAMOTTE. It needs
no little bird to tell me that Mr. Ridley Ryder
and Miss Kathleen Lamotte are man and wife,
and have a large family; and that Miss
Lamotte's christian name is Mary, not Kathleen;
and, finally, that her maiden name never was
Lamotte, but Wrigley, or some such denomination.
Still, for the young boys and romantic
drapers' assistants, such prosy diet would never
do, and they believe that lady to be a ravishing
young princess of only eighteen, whose golden
locks belong to her own head and not to the
property-man, and who secretly believe that
Ridley Ryder is consumed with a burning desire
to possess so lovely a being.

I like the Theatre Royal amazingly. It is no
bigger than a bandbox. There are tiers of
boxes, the centre of which is so close to the
stage that an agile man could readily clear the
pit in a good jump. But room was plenty and
cheap upwards, so that the audience, which was
densely packed, seemed hung on pegs over each
other, like hats. There was no slanting or
sloping in the arrangements. The orchestra
suffered most from the straitness of room,
especially the leader, Mr. Fugle; for, to reinforce
" the band"— a cornet, flute, and violin
being but a thin combination— a pianoforte had
been introduced, the finger-board of which
literally projected against Mr. Fugle's chest, and
seemed to cut into his thighs. Yet let me not be
misunderstood: the whole was excellent, so far
as it went; there were no wrong notes, and Fugle
had arranged his forces with great skill and
judgment. I have heard more pretentious
bodies much less acceptable; and Fugle
himself warmed up his forces, and, both hands
being engaged, and very busily, top, led briskly
with his head and hair, as Miss Lamotte,
with her long golden hair, gave Sing, Birdie,
sing.

Fugle's head lay back upon his shoulders
with closed eyes, as if enraptured, but he struck
in after the shake and last note with tremendous
effect. The acting is very fair indeed, and we
have the regular round of sensation dramas,
with a ballet an 't please you. I like to see the
look of the house— the pleased faces of the audience,
who are grateful for this entertainment,
like children at a pantomime. Outside I see
our hotel buss (I must adopt the local spelling)
waiting and blocking up the whole street, and
in a front row of the boxes are a family— a
whole one, too— from our hotel, who have made
a festival of it, and have chartered the buss for
themselves— at least, papa has, who is a good
soul. He ought to be, for there are two
engaging daughters, who will be going out to the
Liverpool parties next year or so, and who are
quite unsophisticated and unspoiled as yet, and
accept the whole play with absorbing interest.
Thus, when Ridley Ryder, as a Ticket-of-Leave
Man, is ranting fearfully, and straining the
golden-haired Kathleen to his bosom (to the
dispair of the drapers' youths), roaring against
the prejudices of society, against gentlemen who
have left prison, making Aramis, Porthos,
and Athos, who have heard good ranting in
their day, laugh heartily, their tearful eyes and
ready handkerchiefs are ready to sympathise
with and actually encourage that groundling.
But for a night next week— a night
of honour, indeed— they have secured " his
Excellency the Governor," and the performance
is to be honoured by the "Immediate
Presence," whatever that may mean, of that
illustrious idol, who seems at all these realms
to be a piece ot gaudy furniture, lent about the
various " stations" of the place. This favour