They've seen the surges rolling in
With slow, reluctant roar.
Or shouted to the ceaseless din
Along the rocky shore;
And others in the woodland way,
Or on the breezy down,
Have gone excursioning astray,
While I have stayed in Town,
And wished that I was dead and bu-ri-_ed_,
For all my Sunday gown.

And little BOBBY'S hair is curled
By country breezes sweet;
And LIZZIE'S heart is full of light,
Though heavy are her feet.
Father and mother face their plight
More hopeful for the treat,
And bless the God who made a world
Beyond Great Gasworks Street.

* * * * *

[Illustration]

WHERE AND HOW TO SPEND A HAPPY DAY, WEATHER PERMITTING, OF COURSE.--Go
to Sevenoaks; lovely drive, see Knole Park and House, drive back _viâ_
Farningham--prettiest place possible, and one that the broken-hearted
_Tupman_ might have chosen for his retreat from the madding crowd--to
Dartford, where dine at the ancient hostelrie called "The Bull."
Recommended by the _Punch_ faculty, the Bull and no mistake. Then up