the name of the most eminent sculptor of
the day.

Everything prospers with the Smallport
Monte-Cristo. The party on coming on shore
find that universal regret is being expressed
that there are no fireworks to be got with
which to conclude the day's amusements. In
an hour printed hand-bills are in circulation
requesting the company to be on the Esplanade
at eight o'clock, and to direct their
attention towards the centre of the little bay
which that promenade surrounds. At the
hour named, after a magnificent display of
fireworks from on board, the yacht appears
decorated with myriads of lights following
the lines of her rigging. In the darkness
which surrounds her, she appears to be
outlined in fire.

"It was an idea of my Indian servant,"
remarks the count carelessly, in answer to
the burst of admiration which this beautiful
sight calls forth. "He is an ingenious fellow
enough."

But perhaps the most effective thing of all
was the manner of the count's departure.

A group of the principal inhabitants of
Smallport was assembled one morning on the
pier, watching (as is the manner of those who
frequent watering-places) the bathers in the
bay. The jetty at this little town is admirably
adapted for this purpose, seeing that it
curves round in front of the beach enclosing
the water in which those who are bathing,
frolic, almost in a circle, so that the amateurs
who muster here in considerable force, can
examine the bathers in great comfort. From
this spot also Paterfamilias can superintend
the ablutions of his family, giving directions
in a loud and rich tone of voice.

"Emily, go out of the water at once, you
are staying in too long—Kate, where is your
bathing-cap? Go back into the machine and
put it on immediately."

His little boys will next occupy his attention,
and he will give the benefit of his remarks
to the bathing-woman who has them
in hand.

"Mrs. Swasher," he will say to this
functionary, who is struggling with a skinny and
timorous youngster, "Mrs. Swasher, I beg
that you will get that boy's head under water
directly—I am quite sure that Tommy has
not been ducked, his back is as dry as a
bone."

It was at the moment when scenes of this
and the like interesting kind were going on
that the figure of the count was observed
sauntering slowly to the end of the pier.
Taking one rapid glance at the water, he
turns to his servant, and says:

"Let my crimson silk swimming dress be
in readiness. I shall swim this morning to
the Goodwin Sands. You may in two hours
from the time of my departure start with the
yacht and meet me there. I shall take
luncheon on board at three o'clock precisely."

"Are you aware, sir," says Paterfamilias,
who has listened to the count's directions
with open eyes and a fallen jaw; "are you
aware that the Goodwin is twelve miles off?"

"Sir," replies the stranger, "I think you
are mistaken. The distance to the Goodwin
Sands is exactly eleven miles and three-
quarters."

Monte-Cristo retires, and a few minutes
afterwards is seen to enter his private bathing-
machine a superb vehicle, drawn by
four highly-trained horses. The Indian
servant mounts to his station, and seizing the
reins they descend the sands—the tide being
now out—at full gallop into the sea. The
machine wheels round. The door is flung
open, and the figure of the Count, attired in
a crimson dress of spun silk, leaving the arms
and feet bare, plunges into the sea. Once he
turns his back and waves his hand in farewell
to Smallport, and then addresses himself
in earnest to his colossal undertaking.
Eagerly is his diminishing figure watched as
his incredibly rapid progress removes him
farther and farther from the shore, till at
last scarcely more than a speck is visible
mounting at intervals on the crests of the
waves. "The speck gets smaller and smaller,
till—till     *     *     *     *     *

"My dear fellow, what in the world are
you about—you've been sitting for two mortal
hours without moving, on the end of the
pier? We have been watching you from the
cliff where we have been walking, and
wondering what could possibly be the matter
with you?"

It was the voice of my half-brother which
thus recalled me so suddenly to my senses.
And as we walked back, arm in arm, to
dinner, I explained to him as well as I could
the subject of my day-dream.

"I was thinking," I said, "of the prodigious
successes that might be achieved here by a
sort of watering-place Monte-Cristo."

AMATEUR HORSE-TRAINING.

THE history of horse-tamers past and
present formed the subject of a Household
Words paper.* While that article was in the
press the outlines of Mr. Rarey's method of
dealing with violent horses and taming colts
became known through a pamphlet which he
printed for the use of his pupils in Ohio, long
before he dreamed of becoming the lion of a
London season; and, from internal evidence,
we should say, before he was himself fully
aware of the importance of the first process
which applies to all the animals that came
under his hands as the first and principal
lesson of docility.

The feat which established Mr. Rarey's
reputation in London, and brought crowds
of the highest rank and most extensive
crinoline as humble suppliants to be
permitted to enter the school in the back slums

* Page 82 of the present volume.