(and a little more) in gales of wind on cliff and pier and parade, or
climbing the Malvern Hills. When she puts on goloshes it nearly breaks
his heart, and he would fly to other climes! He revels in her
infantile pouts and jealousies and heart-burnings and butterfly
delights and lisping mischiefs; her mild, innocent flirtations with
beautiful young swells, whose cares are equally light.

She is a darling, and he constantly calls her so to her face. Her
favourite seaside nook becomes the mermaid's haunt; her back hair
flies and dries in the wind, and disturbs the peace of the too
susceptible Punch. She is a little amazon _pour rire_, and rides
across country, and drives (even a hansom sometimes, with a pair of
magnificent young whiskerandoes smoking their costly cigars inside);
she is a toxophilite, and her arrow sticks, for it is barbed with
innocent seduction, and her bull's-eye is the soft military heart. She
wears a cricket-cap and breaks Aunt Sally's nose seven times; she puts
her pretty little foot upon the croquet-ball--and croquet'd you are
completely! With what glee she would have rinked and tennised if he
had lived a little longer!

[Illustration: "IN THE BAY OF BISCANY O"

The Last Sweet Thing in Hats and Walking-Sticks.--_Punch_, September
27, 1862.]

She is light of heart, and perhaps a little of head! Her worst trouble
is when the captain gives the wing of the fowl to some other darling
who might be her twin-sister; her most terrible nightmare is when she
dreams that great stupid Captain Sprawler upsets a dish of trifle over
her new lace dress with the blue satin slip; but next morning she is