that sultry, melting air of the parks and the tropical look of the
streets. The pavements seemed to glare fiercely like furnaces; there
was an air of languid Eastern enjoyment. The very dogs 'snoozed'
pleasantly in shady corners, and all seemed happy as if enjoying a
holiday.

How delightful and enviable those families--the father, mother, and
fair daughters, now setting off gaily with their huge boxes--who
to-morrow would be beside the ever-delightful Rhine, posting on to
Cologne and Coblentz. What a welcome ring in those names! Stale,
hackneyed as it is, there comes a thrill as we get the first glimpse
of the silvery placid waters and their majestic windings. Even the
hotels, the bustle, and the people, holiday and festive, all seem
novel and gay. With some people this fairy look of things foreign
never 'stales,' even with repetition. It is as with the illusions of
the stage, which in some natures will triumph over the rudest,
coarsest shocks.

Well, that sweltering day stole by. The very cabmen on their 'stands'
nodded in blissful dreams. The motley colours in the Park--a stray
cardinal-coloured parasol or two added to the effect--glinted behind
the trees. The image of the happy tourists in the foreign streets grew
more vivid. The restlessness increased every hour, and was not to be
'laid.'

Living within a stone's-throw of Victoria Station, I find a strange
and ever new sensation in seeing the night express and its passengers
starting for foreign lands--some wistful and anxious, others supremely
happy. It is next in interest to the play. The carriages are marked
'CALAIS,' 'PARIS,' etc. It is even curious to think that, within three