Every bold rock and jutting promontory has its citizen occupants; every sandy cove or tide-washed bay has its myriads of squalling babes and red baize-clad bathing women,--those veritable descendants of the nymphs of old.

Pink parasols, donkey-carts, baskets of bread-and-butter, reticules, guides to Barmouth, specimens of ore, fragments of gypsum meet you at every step, and destroy every illusion of the picturesque." "'I shall leave this,' thought I.'My dreams, my long-cherished dreams of romantic walks upon the sea-shore, of evening strolls by moonlight, through dell and dingle, are reduced to a short promenade through an alley of bathing-boxes, amidst a screaming population of nursery-maids and sick children, with a thorough-bass of "Fresh shrimps!" discordant enough to frighten the very fish from the shores.

There is no peace, no quiet, no romance, no poetry, no love.' Alas, that most of all was wanting! For, after all, what is it which lights up the heart, save the flame of a mutual attachment?
What gilds the fair stream of life, save the bright ray of warm affection?
What--" "In a word," said Power, "it is the sugar in the punch-bowl of our existence.

_Perge_, Sparks; push on." "I was not long in making up my mind.

I called for my bill; I packed my clothes; I ordered post-horses; I was ready to start; one item in the bill alone detained me.