descend, when of a sudden--he drew his head out of the water. And lo!
all these marvels had passed in a second! What if there were to be
magically crowded into those few hours all that could possibly be
seen--sea and land, old towns in different countries, strange people,
cathedrals, town-halls, streets, etc.? It would be like some wild,
fitful dream. And on the Friday I would draw my head, as it were, out
of the tub. But it would need the nicest balancing and calculation,
not a minute to be lost, everything to be measured and jointed
together beforehand.

There was something piquant in this notion. Was not life short? and
precious hours were too often wasted carelessly and dawdled away. It
might even be worth while to see how much could be seen in these few
hours. In a few moments the resolution was taken, and I was walking
down to Victoria, and in two hours was in Snargate Street, Dover.




II.

_DOVER._


Dover has an old-fashioned dignity of its own; the town, harbour,
ports, and people seem, as it were, consecrated to packets. There is
an antique and reverend grayness in its old inns, old streets, old
houses, all clustered and huddled into the little sheltered
amphitheatre, as if trying to get down close by their pride, the
packets. For centuries it has been the threshold, the _hall-door_, of